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THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


u 

AL1F. 


Or?  / 

h 


THE 


PLAYS 


OF 


WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE 


VOLUME  THE  FOURTH. 


Printed  by  T.  Davison,  Whitefriare. 


THE 


PLAYS 


OF 


WILLIAM  SHAKSPEARE. 


VOLUME  THE  FOURTH. 


CONTAINING 


TEMPEST. 

TWO  GENTLEMEN  OF  VERONA. 

MIDSUMMER  NIGHT'S  DREAM. 


LONDON: 

Printed  for  J.  Nichols  and  Son ;   F.  C.  and  J.  Rivington ;  J.  Stockdale 
W.  Lowndes;    G.  Wilkie  and  J.  Robinson;    T.  Egerton;  J.  Walker 
Scatcherd  and  Letternian;  W.  Clarke  and  Sons;  J.  Barker;  J.  Cnthell 
R.  Lea;  Lackingtou  and  Co. ;  J.  Deighton  ;  J.  White  ami  Co. ;  B.  Crosby 
and  Co.;  W.  Earle  ;  J.  Gray  and  Son;  Longman  and  Co.;  Cadell  and 
Davies;  J.  Harding;  R.  H.  Evans;  J.  Booker;  S.  Bagstcr;  J.  Mawnian; 
Black  and  Co.;    J.  Black;    J.  Richardson;    J.  Booth;    Newman  and 
Co.;    R.  Pheney;     R.  Scholey;   J.  Murray;    J.  \sperne;    J.  Faultier; 
R.  Baldwin;  Cradock  and  Joy;    Sharpe  and  Hailes ;    Johnson  and  Co.; 
Gale  and  Co.;  G.  Robinson;  C.  Brown ;  and  Wilson  and  Son,  York. 

1813. 


303 


v.  ■ 


TEMPEST.* 


VOL.  IV. 


*  Tempest.]  The  Tempest  and  The  Midsummer  Night's 
Dream  are  the  noblest  efforts  of  that  sublime  and  amazing  ima- 
gination peculiar  to  Shakspeare,  which  soars  above  the  bounds 
of  nature,  without  forsaking  sense;  or,  more  properly,  carries 
nature  along  with  him  beyond  her  established  limits.  Fletcher 
seems  particularly  to  have  admired  these  two  plays,  and  hath 
wrote  two  in  imitation  of  them,  The  Sea  Voyage  and  The  Faith- 
ful Shepherdess.  But  when  he  presumes  to  break  a  lance  with 
Shakspeare,  and  write  in  emulation  of  him,  as  he  does  in  The 
False  One,  which  is  the  rival  of  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  he  is  not 
so  successful.  After  him,  Sir  John  Suckling  and  Milton  catched 
the  brightest  fire  of  their  imagination  from  these  two  plays; 
which  shines  fantastically  indeed  in  The  Goblins,  but  much  more 
nobly  and  serenely  in  The  Mask  at  Ludlovo  Castle. 

Warburton. 

No  one  has  hitherto  been  lucky  enough  to  discover  the  romance 
on  which  Shakspeare  may  be  supposed  to  have  founded  this  play, 
the  beauties  of  which  could  not  secure  it  from  the  criticism  of 
Ben  Jonson,  whose  malignity  appears  to  have  been  more  than 
equal  to  his  wit.  In  the  introduction  to  Bartholomew  Fair,  he 
says:  "  If  there  be  never  a  servant  monster  in  the  fair,  who  can 
help  it,  he  says,  nor  a  nest  of  antiques'?  He  is  loth  to  make 
nature  afraid  in  his  plays,  like  those  that  beget  Tales,  Tempestsy 
and  such  like  drolleries."     Steevens. 

I  was  informed  by  the  late  Mr.  Collins  of  Chichester,  that 
Shakspeare's  Tempest,  for  which  no  origin  is  yet  assigned,  was 
formed  on  a  romance  called  Aurelio  and  Isabella,  printed  in 
Italian,  Spanish,  French,  and  English,  in  1588.  But  though 
this  information  has  not  proved  true  on  examination,  an  useful 
conclusion  may  be  drawn  from  it,  that  Shakspeare's  story  is 
somewhere  to  be  found  in  an  Italian  novel,  at  least  that  the  story 
preceded  Shakspeare.  Mr.  Collins  had  searched  this  subject 
with  no  less  fidelity  than  judgement  and  industry;  but  his  memory 
failing  in  his  last  calamitous  indisposition,  he  probably  gave  me 
the  name  of  one  novel  for  another.  I  remember  he  added  a  cir- 
cumstance, which  may  lead  to  a  discovery, — that  the  principal 
character  of  the  romance,  answering  to  Shakspeare's  Prospero, 
was  a  chemical  necromancer,  who  had  bound  a  spirit  like  Ariel 
to  obey  his  call,  and  perform  his  services.  It  was  a  common 
pretence  of  dealers  in  the  occult  sciences  to  have  a  demon  at 
command.  At  least  Aurelio,  or  Orelio,  was  probably  one  of  the 
names  of  this  romance,  the  production  and  multiplicity  of  gold 
being  the  grand  object  of  alchemy.  Taken  at  large,  the  magical 
part  of  the  Tempest  is  founded  on  that  sort  of  philosophy  which 
was  practised  by  John  Dee  and  his  associates,  and  has  been 


called  the  Rosicrucian.  The  name  Ariel  came  from  the  Tal- 
mudistick  mysteries  with  which  the  learned  Jews  had  infected 
this  science.     T.  Wartox. 

Mr.  Theobald  tells  us,  that  The  Tempest  must  have  been 
written  after  '600,  because  the  Bermuda  Islands,  which  are 
mentioned  in  it,  were  unknown  to  the  English  until  that  year; 
but  this  is  a  mistake.  He  might  have  seen  in  Hackluyt,  1600, 
folio,  a  description  of  Bermuda,  by  Henry  May,  who  was  ship- 
wrecked there  in  1593. 

It  was  however  one  of  our  author's  last  works.  In  1 598,  he 
played  a  part  in  the  original  Every  Man  in  his  Humour.  Two 
of  the  characters  are  Prospero  and  Stephano.  Here  Ben  Jonson 
taught  him  the  pronunciation  of  the  latter  word,  which  is  always 
right  in  The  Tempest: 

"  Is  not  this  Stephano,  my  drunken  butler?" 
And  always  wrong  in  his  earlier  play,  The  Merchant  of  Venice, 
which  had  been  on  the  stage  at  least  two  or  three  years  before 
its  publication  in  HJOO: 

"  My  friend  Stephano,  signify  I  pray  you,"  &c. 
— So  little  did  Mr.  Capell  know  of  his  author,  when  he  idly  sup- 
posed his  school  literature  might  perhaps  have  been  lost  by  the 
dissipation  qf  youth,  or  the  busy  scene  of  publick  life!     Farmer. 

This  play  must  have  been  written  before  1614,  when  Jonson 
sneers  at  it  in  his  Bartholomew  Fair.  In  the  latter  plays  of 
Shakspeare,  he  has  less  of  pun  and  quibble  than  in  his  early 
ones.  In  The  Merchant  qf  Venice,  he  expressly  declares  against 
them.  This  perhaps  might  be  one  criterion  to  discover  the 
dates  of  his  plays.  Blackstonk. 

See  Mr.  Malone's  Attempt  to  ascertain  the  Order  qf  Shakspeare' s 
Plays,  and  a  Note  on  The  cloud-capp'd  towers,  &c.   Act  IV. 

Steevens. 


B  2 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED.* 


Alonso,  king  o/'Naples. 

Sebastian,  his  brother. 

Prospero,  the  rightful  Duke  of  Milan. 

Antonio,  his  brother,  the  usurping  Duke  of  Milan. 

Ferdinand,  son  to  the  king  of  Naples. 

Gonzalo,  an  honest  old  counsellor  of  Naples. 

Adrian,         >     7     7 
xp        •  >   lords. 

Irancisco,     ) 

Caliban,  a  savage  and  deformed  slave. 

Trinculo,  a  jester. 

Stephano,  a  drunken  butler. 

Master  of  a  ship,  Boatswain,  and  Mariners. 

Miranda,  daughter  to  Prospero. 

Ariel,  an  airy  spirit. 

Iris, 

Ceres, 

Juno,  [►   spirits. 

Nymphs, 

Reapers, 

Other  spirits  attending  on  Prospero. 

SCENE,  the  sea,  with  a  ship;  afterwards  an 
uninhabited  island. 


*  This  enumeration  of  persons  is  taken  from  the  folio  1623. 

Steevens. 


T  E  M  P  E  S  T. 


ACT  I.     SCENE  I. 

On  a  Ship  at  Sea. 

A  Storm  with  Thunder  and  Lightning. 

Enter  a  Ship-master  and  a  Boatswain. 

Master.  Boatswain,1 — 

Boats.  Here,  master:  What  cheer? 

Mast.  Good:  Speak  to  the  mariners:  fall  to't 
yarely,2  or  we  run  ourselves  aground:  bestir,  bestir. 

\_Exit. 

1  Boatswain,']  In  this  naval  dialogue,  perhaps  the  first  exam- 
ple of  sailor's  language  exhibited  on  the  stage,  there  are,  as  I 
have  been  told  by  a  skilful  navigator,  some  inaccuracies  and  con- 
tradictory orders.     Johnson. 

The  foregoing  observation  is  founded  on  a  mistake.  These 
orders  should  be  considered  as  given,  not  at  once,  but  success- 
ive^, as  the  emergency  required.  One  attempt  to  save  the 
ship  failing,  another  is  tried.     Ma  lone. 

8  JuUto't  yarely,]  i.e.  Readily,  nimbly.     Our  author  is 

frequent  in  his  use  of  this  word.     So,  in  Decker's  Satiromastix : 
"  They'll  make  his  muse  as  ijare  as  a  tumbler."     Steevens. 

Here  it  is  applied  as  a  sea-term,  and  in  other  parts  of  the 
BCene.  So  he  uses  the  adjective,  Act.  V.  sc.  v:  "  Our  ship  is 
light  and  yare"  And  in  one  of  the  Henries:  " yare  are  our 
ships."  To  this  day  the  sailors  say,  "  sit  yare.  to  the  helm." 
Again,  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  Act  II.  sc.  iii:  "  The  tackles 
yarely  frame  the  office."     T.  Warton. 


6  TEMPEST.  acth 


Enter  Mariners. 

Boats.  Heigh,  my  hearts;  cheerly,  cheerly,  my 
hearts;  yare,  yare:  Take  in  the  top-sail;  Tend  to 
the  master's  whistle. — Blow,  till  thou  burst  thy 
wind,3  if  room  enough! 

Enter  Alonso,  Sebastian,  Antonio,  Ferdinand, 
Gonzalo,  and  others. 

Alox.  Good  boatswain,  have  care.  Where's  the 
master?  Play  the  men.4 

3  Blow,  till  thou  burst  thy  taind,  &c]  Perhaps  it  might  be  read: 
Blow,  till  thou  burst,  ivind,  if  room  enough.     Johnson. 

Perhaps  rather — Blow,  till  thou  burst  thee,  ivind!  if  room 
enough.  Beaumont  and  Fletcher  have  copied  this  passage  in 
The  Pilgrim : 

" Blow,  blow  west  wind, 

"  Blow  till  thou  rive!" 
Again,  in  Pericles  Prince  of  Tyre,  1609: 

"  tst.  Sailor.  Blow,  and  split  thyself!" 
Again,  in  K.  Lear: 

"  Blow,  winds,  and  burst  your  cheeks!" 
Again,  in  Chapman's  version  of  the   fifth   book   of  Homer's 
Odyssey : 

"  Such  as  might  shield  them  from  the  winter's  worst, 

"  Though  steel  it  breath'd,  and  blew  as  it  would  burst" 
Again,  in  Fletcher's  Double  Marriage: 

" Rise,  winds, 

"  Blow  till  you  burst  the  air. — " 
The  allusion  in  these  passages,  as  Mr.  M.  Mason  observes,  is 
to  the  manner  in  which  the  winds  were  represented  in  ancient 
prints  and  pictures.     Steevens. 

*  Play  the  men.']  i.  e.  act  with  spirit,  behave  like  men.  So,  in 
Chapman's  translation  of  the  second  Iliad: 

"  Which  doing,  thou  shalt  know  what  souldiers  play  the 

men, 
"  And  what  the  cowards." 
Again,  in  Marlowe's  Tamburlaine,  15()0,  p.  2: 

"  Viceroys  and  peers  of  Turkey,  play  the  men." 
•Ii  flkoi,  dvipes  is-s,  Iliad,  V.  v.  529.     Steevens. 


sc.  i.  TEMPEST.  7 

Boats.  I  pray  now,  keep  below. 

Ant.  Where  is  the  master,  Boatswain? 

Boats.  Do  you  not  hear  him  ?  You  mar  our  la- 
bour;  Keep  your  cabins:  you  do  assist  the  storm.5 

Gox.  Nay,  good,  be  patient. 

Boats.  When  the  sea  is.  Hence!  What  care 
these  roarers  for  the  name  of  king?  To  cabin:  si- 
lence :  trouble  us  not. 

Gox.  Good;  yet  remember  whom  thou  hast 
aboard. 

Boats.  None  that  I  more  love  than  myself.  You 
are  a  counsellor;  if  you  can  command  these  ele- 
ments to  silence,  and  work  the  peace  of  the  pre- 
sent,6 we  will  not  hand  a  rope  more;  use  your 
authority.  If  you  cannot,  give  thanks  you  have 
lived  so  long,  and  make  yourself  ready  in  your 
cabin  for  the  mischance  of  the  hour,  if  it  so  hap. — 
Cheerly,  good  hearts. — Out  of  our  way,  I  say. 

[Exit. 

Gox.7  I  have  great  comfort  from  this  fellow: 
methinks,  he  hath  no  drowning  mark  upon  him; 
his  complexion  is  perfect  gallows.  Stand  fast,  good 
fate,  to  his  hanging!  make  the  rope  of  his  destiny 


Again,  in  scripture,  2  Sam.  x.  12:  "  Be  of  good  courage,  and 
let  us  play  the  men  for  our  people."     Malone. 

*  assist  the  storm. ,]     So,  in  Pericles: 

"  Patience,  good  sir;  do  not  assist  the  storm."  Steevens. 

6  of  the  present,']  i.  e.  qf  the  present  instant.     So,  in  the 

15th  chapter  of  the  1st  Epistle  to  the  Corinthians:  " of 

whom  the  greater  part  remain  unto  this  present."     Steevens. 

7  Gonzalo."]  It  may  be  observed  of  Gonzalo,  that,  being  the 
only  good  man  that  appears  with  the  king,  he  is  the  only  man 
that  preserves  his  cheerfulness  in  the  wreck,  and  his  hope  on  the 
island.    Johnson. 


8  TEMPEST.  act  /.- 

our  cable,  for  our  own  doth  little  advantage !  If  he 
be  not  born  to  be  hanged,  our  case  is  miserable. 

[Exeunt. 

Re-enter  Boatswain. 

Boats.  Down  with  the  top-mast;  yare;  lower, 
lower;  bring  her  to  try  with  main-course.8  \_A  cry 
within.^  A  plague  upon  this  howling!  they  are 
louder  than  the  weather,  or  our  office. — 


Re-enter  Sebastian,  Antonio,  and  Gonzalo. 

Yet  again?  what  do  you  here?  Shall  we  give  o'er, 
and  drown?  Have  you  a  mind  to  sink? 

Seb.  A  pox  o'  your  throat !  you  bawling,  blas- 
phemous, incharitable  dog ! 

Boats.  Work  you,  then. 

Ant.  Hang,  cur,  hang !  you  whoreson,  insolent 
noise-maker,  we  are  less  afraid  to  be  drowned  than 
thou  art. 

Gon.  I'll  warrant  him  from  drowning;  though 
the  ship  were  no  stronger  than  a  nut-shell,  and  as 
leaky  as  an  unstanched  wench.9 

8  bring  her  to  try  with  main-course.]    Probably  from 

Hackluyt's  Voyages,  15Q8:  "  And  when  the  barke  had  way,  we 
cut  the  hauser,  and  so  gate  the  sea  to  our  friend,  and  tried  out 
all  that  day  with  ourmaine  course.'1''     Malone. 

This  phrase  occurs  also  in  Smith's  Sea  Grammar,  1627,  4to. 
under  the  article  How  to  handle  a  ship  in  a  Storme:  "  Let  us  lie 
at  Trie  with  our  maine  course  ;  that  is,  to  hale  the  tacke  aboord, 
the  sheat  close  aft,  the  boling  set  up,  and  the  helme  tied  close 
aboord."     P.  40.     Steevens. 

9  an  unstanched  wench.']    Unstanched,  I  am  willing  to 

believe,  means  incontinent.     Steevens. 


sc.  i.  TEMPEST.  9 

Boats.   Lay  her  a-hold,  a-hold;1    set  her  two 
courses;  off  to  sea  again,3  lay  her  off. 

Enter  Mariners  wet. 

Mar.  All  lost!  to  prayers,  to  prayers!  all  lost! 

\_Exeunt. 

Boats.  What,  must  our  mouths  be  cold? 

Gojst.  The  king  and  prince  at  prayers!  let  us  assist 
them, 
For  our  case  is  as  theirs. 

Seb.  I  am  out  of  patience. 

Ant.  We  are  merely3  cheated  of  our  lives  by 

drunkards. — 
This  wide-chapped  rascal; — 'Would,  thou  might'st 

lie  drowning, 
The  washing  often  tides! 

Gon.  He'll  be  hanged  yet ; 


1  Lay  her  a-hold,  a-hold;"]  To  lay  a  ship  a-hold,  is  to  bring  her 
to  lie  as  near  the  wind  as  she  can,  in  order  to  keep  clear  of  the 
land,  and  get  her  out  to  sea.     Steevens. 

2 set  her  two  courses;  off" to  sea  again,]  The  courses  are 

the  main  sail  and  fore  sail.     This  term  is  used  by  Raleigh,  in  his 
Discourse  on  Shipping.     Johnson. 

The  passage,  as  Mr.  Holt  has  observed,  should  be  pointed, 
Set  her  two  courses;  off",  &c. 

Such  another  expression  occurs  in  Decker's  If  this  be  not  a  good 

Play,  the  Devil  is  in  it,  1012:  " off  with  your  Drablersand 

your  Banners;  out  with  your  courses."     Steevens. 

3 merely  — ]  In  this  place,  signifies  absolutely ;  in  which 

sense  it  is  used  in  Hamlet,  Act  I.  sc.  iii: 

" Things  rank  and  gross  in  nature 

"  Possess  it  merely.** 
Again,  in  Ben  Jonson's  Poetaster; 

"  at  request 

"  Of  some  mere  friends,  some  honourable  Romans." 

Steevens. 


10  TEMPEST.  act  i. 

Though  every  drop  of  water  swear  against  it, 
And  gape  at  wid'st  to  glut  him.3 

\_A  confused  noise  within]  Mercy  on  us! — We  split, 
we  split! — Farewell,  my  wife  and  children! — Fare- 
well, brother!4 — We  split,  we  split,  we  split! — 

Ant.  Let's  all  sink  with  the  king.  [Exit. 

Seb.  Let's  take  leave  of  him.  [Exit. 

Gon.  Now  would  I  give  a  thousand  furlongs  of 
sea  for  an  acre  of  barren  ground ;  long  heath,  brown 
furze,5  any  thing:  The  wills  above  be  done!  but  I 
would  fain  die  a  dry  death.  [Exit. 


3 to  glut  him.']   Shakspeare  probably  wrote,  fenglut  him, 

to  swalloiv  him;  for  which  I  know  not  that  glut  is  ever  used  by 
him.  In  this  signification  englut,  from  engloutir,  Fr.  occurs  fre- 
quently, as  in  Henry  VI: 

" Thou  art  so  near  the  gulf 

"  Thou  needs  must  be  englutted." 
And  again,  in   Timon  and  Othello.     Yet  Milton  writes  glutted 
offal  for  sivalloived,  and  therefore  perhaps  the  present  text  may 
stand.     Johnson. 

Thus,  in  Sir  A.  Gorges's  translation  of  Lucan,  B.  VI: 

" oylie  fragments  scarcely  burn'd, 

"  Together  she  doth  scrape  and  glut." 
i.  e.  swallow.     Steevens. 

*  Mercy  on  us!  &c.  — — — Farewell,  brother!  &c]  All  these 
lines  have  been  hitherto  given  to  Gonzalo,  who  has  no  brother 
in  the  ship.  It  is  probable  that  the  lines  succeeding  the  confused 
noise  tvithin  should  be  considered  as  spoken  by  no  determinate 
characters.     Johnson. 

The  hint  for  this  stage  direction,  &c.  might  have  been  received 
from  a  passage  in  the  second  book  of  Sidney's  Arcadia,  where 
the  shipwreck  of  Pyrocles  is  described,  with  this  concluding  cir- 
cumstance: "  But  a  monstrous  cry,  begotten  of  many  roaring 
voyces,  was  able  to  infect  with  feare,"  &c.     Steevens. 

*  — — —  an  acre  of  barren  ground;  long  heath,  brown  furze, 
&c]  Sir  T.  Hanmer  reads — ling,  heath,  broom,  furze. — Per- 
haps rightly,  though  he  has  been  charged  with  tautology.  I  find 
in  Harrison's  description  of  Britain,  prefixed  to  our  author's  good 


sc.ii.  TEMPEST.  11 


SCENE  II. 

The  Island:  before  the  cell  o/*Prospero. 

Enter  Prospero  and  Miranda. 

Mir  a.  If  by  your  art,  my  dearest  father,  you  have 
Put  the  wild  waters  in  this  roar,  allay  them : 
The  sky,  it  seems,  would  pour  down  stinking  pitch, 
But  that  the  sea,6  mounting  to  the  welkin's  cheek, 
Dashes  the  fire  out.     O,  I  have  suffer'd 
With  those  that  I  saw  suffer!  a  brave  vessel, 
Who  had  no  doubt  some  noble  creatures  in  her,7 
Dash'd  all  to  pieces.     O,  the  cry  did  knock 
Against  my  very  heart!  Poor  souls!  they  perish'd. 
Had  I  been  any  god  of  power,  I  would 
Have  sunk  the  sea  within  the  earth,  or  e'er8 

friend  Holinshed,  p.  91 :  "  Brome,  heth,Jirze,  brakes,  whinnes, 
ling, "  &  c .    Farmer. 

Mr.  Toilet  has  sufficiently  vindicated  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer 
from  the  charge  of  tautology,  by  favouring  me  with  specimens  of 
three  different  kinds  of  heath  which  grow  in  his  own  neighbour- 
hood. I  would  gladly  have  inserted  his  observations  at  length; 
but,  to  say  the  truth,  our  author,  like  one  of  Cato's  soldiers  who 
was  bit  by  a  serpent, 

Ipse  latet  penitus  congesto  corpore  mersus.     Steevens. 

0  But  that  the  sea,  &c]   So,  in  King  Lear: 

"  The  sea  in  such  a  storm  as  his  bare  head 

"  In  hell-black  night  endur'd,  would  have  buoy'd  up, 

"  And  quench'd  the  stelled  fires."     Malone. 

Thus,  in  Chapman's  version  of  the  21st  Iliad: 

" as  if  his  waves  would  drowne  the  skic, 

"  And  put  out  all  the  sphere  of  fire."     Steevens. 

7 creatures  in  her,']  The  old  copy  reads — creature;  but 

the  preceding  as  well  as  subsequent  words  of  Miranda  seem  to 
demand  the  emendation  which  I  have  received  from  Theobald. 

Steevens. 

' or  e'er— ]    i.  c.   before.     So,  in   Ecclesiastes,  xii.  6 : 


12  TEMPEST. 


ACT  I. 


It  should  the  good  ship  so  have  swallowed,  and 
The  freighting  souls  within  her. 

Pro.  Be  collected; 

No  more  amazement:  tell  your  piteous  heart, 
There's  no  harm  done. 

Mir  a.  0,woe  the  day! 

Pro.  No  harm.9 

I  have  done  nothing  but  in  care  of  thee, 
(Of  thee,  my  dear  one!  thee,  my  daughter!)  who 
Art  ignorant  of  what  thou  art,  nought  knowing 
Of  whence  I  am;  nor  that  I  am  more  better1 
Than  Prospero,  master  of  a  full  poor  cell,2 
And  thy  no  greater  father. 


"  Or  ever  the  silver  cord  be  loosed,  or  the  golden  bowl  be  bro- 
ken  ."     Again,  in  our  author's  Cymbeline: 

or  e'er  I  could 

"  Give  him  that  parting  kiss ."     Steevens. 

9  Pro.  No  harm."]    I  know  not  whether  Shakspeare  did  not 
make  Miranda  speak  thus: 

O,  tvoe  the  day!  no  harm? 
To  which  Prospero  properly  answers: 

/  have  done  nothing  but  in  care  of  thee. 
Miranda,  when  she  speaks  the  words,  O,  tooe  the  day!  supposes, 
not  that  the  crew  had  escaped,  but  that  her  father  thought  dif- 
ferently from  her,  and  counted  their  destruction  no  harm. 

Johnson. 

1 more  better — ]   This  ungrammatical  expression  is  very 

frequent  among  our  oldest  writers.  So,  in  The  History  of  Helyas 
Knight  of  the  Swan,  bl.  1.  no  date,  imprinted  by  Wm.  Copland: 
"  And  also  the  more  sooner  to  come,  without  prolixity,  to  the 
true  Chronicles,"  &c.  Again,  in  the  True  Tragedies  of  Marius 
and  Scilla,  1594: 

"  To  wait  a  message  of  more  better  worth." 
Again,  ibid: 

"  That  hale  more  greater  than  Cassandra  now." 

Steevens. 

full  poor  cell,']  i.e.  a  cell  in  a  great  degree  of  poverty. 

So,  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra;  "  I  am  full  sorry."       Steevens. 


sc.  ii.  TEMPEST.  is 

Mira.  More  to  know 

Did  never  meddle  with  my  thoughts.3 

Pro.  'Tis  time 

I  should  inform  thee  further.     Lend  thy  hand, 
And  pluck  my  magick  garment  from  me. — So; 

[Lays  down  his  mantle. 
Lie  there  my  art.4 — Wipe  thou  thine  eyes ;  have 

comfort. 
The  direful  spectacle  of  the  wreck,  which  touch'd 
The  very  virtue  of  compassion5  in  thee, 
I  have  with  such  provision  in  mine  art 
So  safely  order' d,  that  there  is  no  soul — 6 

3  Did  never  meddle  tdth  my  thoughts."]  i.  e.  mix  with  them. 
To  meddle  is  often  used,  with  this  sense,  by  Chaucer.  Hence 
the  substantive  medley.  The  modern  and  familiar  phrase  by 
which  that  of  Miranda  may  be  explained,  is — never  entered  my 
thoughts — never  came  into  my  head.     Steevens. 

It  should  rather  mean — to  interfere,  to  trouble,  to  busy  itself, 
as  still  used  in  the  North,  e.  g.  Don't  meddle  ivith  me;  i.  e.  Let 
me  alone;  Don't  molest  me.     Ritson. 

See  Howell's  Diet.  1660,  in  v.  to  meddle;  "  se  mesler  de." 

Ma  LONE. 

*  Lie  there  my  art.]  Sir  Will.  Cecil,  lord  Burleigh,  lord  high 
treasurer,  &c.  in  the  reign  of  queen  Elizabeth,  when  he  put  off 
his  gown  at  night,  used  to  say,  Lie  there,  lord  treasurer.  Ful- 
ler's Holy  State,  p.  257.     Steevens. 

5 virtue   of  compassion — ]    Virtue;  the  most  efficacious 

part,  the  energetic  quality;  in  a  like  sense  we  say,  The  virtue  of 
a  plant  is  in  the  extract.     Johnson. 

6 that  there  is  no  soul — ]   Thus  the  old  editions  read; 

but  this  is  apparently  defective.  Mr.  Rowe,  and  after  him  Dr. 
Warburton,  read — that  there  is  no  soul  lost,  without  any  notice 
of  the  variation.  Mr.  Theobald  substitutes  no  foil,  and  Mr.  Pope 
follows  him.  To  come  so  near  the  right,  and  yet  to  miss  it,  is 
unlucky:  the  author  probably  wrote  no  soil,  no  stain,  no  spot; 
for  so  Ariel  tells ; 

Not  a  hair  perish* d ; 

On  their  sustaining  garments  not  a  blemish, 
But  fresher  than  before. 
And  Gonzalo,    The   rarity  of  it  is,  that  our  garments   being 


14  TEMPEST.  act  I. 

No,  not  so  much  perdition  as  an  hair, 

Betid  to  any  creature  in  the  vessel7 

Which  thou  heard'st  cry,  which  thou  saw'st  sink. 

Sit  down; 
For  thou  must  now  know  further. 

'  MIMA.  You  have  often 

Begun  to  tell  me  what  I  am;  but  stopp'd 
And  left  me  to  a  bootless  inquisition; 
Concluding,  Stag,  not  yet. — 

Pro.  The  hour's  now  come; 

The  very  minute  bids  thee  ope  thine  ear; 
Obey,  and  be  attentive.     Can'st  thou  remember 
A  time  before  we  came  unto  this  cell? 
I  do  not  think  thou  can'st;  for  then  thou  wast  not 
Out  three  years  old.8 

Mir  A.  Certainly,  sir,  I  can. 

Pro.  By  what?  by  any  other  house,  or  person? 


drenched  in  the  sea,  keep  notwithstanding  their  freshness  and 
glosses.  Of  this  emendation  I  find  that  the  author  of  notes  on 
The  Tempest  had  a  glimpse,  but  could  not  keep  it.     Johnson. 

no   soul — ]    Such  interruptions  are  not  uncommon  to 

Shakspeare.  He  sometimes  begins  a  sentence,  and,  before  he 
concludes  it,  entirely  changes  its  construction,  because  another, 
more  forcible,  occurs.  As  this  change  frequently  happens  in 
conversation,  it  may  be  suffered  to  pass  uncensured  in  the  lan- 
guage of  the  stage.     Steevens. 

7  '       not  so  much  perdition  as  an  hair, 

Betid  to  any  creature  in  the  vessel — ]  Had  Shakspeare  in  his 
mind  St.  Paul's  hortatory  speech  to  the  ship's  company,  where 
he  assures  them  that,  though  they  were  to  suffer  shipwreck, 
"  not  an  hair  shoidd  fall  from  the  head  of  any  of  them?"  Acts, 
xxvii.  34.     Ariel  afterwards  says,  "  Not  a  hair  perish' d." 

Holt  White. 

8  Out  three  years  old.]  i.  e.  Quite  three  years  old,  three  years 
old  full-out,  complete. 

So,  in  the  '1th  Act:  "  And  be  a  boy  right  out."     Steevens. 


sc.  ii.  TEMPEST.  15 

Of  any  thing  the  image  tell  me,  that 
Hath  kept  with  thy  remembrance. 

Mir  a.  'Tis  far  off; 

And  rather  like  a  dream  than  an  assurance 
That  my  remembrance  warrants :   Had  I  not 
Four  or  five  women  once,  that  tended  me  ? 

Pro.  Thou  had'st,  and  more,  Miranda:  But  how 
is  it, 
That  this  lives  in  thy  mind?   What  seest  thou  else 
In  the  dark  backward  and  abysm  of  time?9 
If  thou  remember'st  aught,  ere  thou  cam'st  here, 
How  thou  cam'st  here,  thou  may'st. 

Mira.  But  that  I  do  not. 

Pro.  Twelve  years  since,  Miranda,  twelve  years 
since,1 
Thy  father  was  the  duke  of  Milan,  and 
A  prince  of  power. 

Mira.  Sir,  are  not  you  my  father? 

Pro.  Thy  mother  was  a  piece  of  virtue,  and 
She  said — thou  wast  my  daughter;  and  thy  father 
Was  duke  of  Milan ;  and  his  only  heir 


9 abysm  of timef]   i.  e.  Abyss.     Tin's  method  of  spelling 

the  word  is  common  to  other  ancient  writers.  They  took  it  from 
the  French  abysme,  now  written  abime.  So,  in  Heywood's 
Brazen  Age,  ]6l3: 

"  And  chase  him  from'fche  deep  abysms  below." 

Steevens. 

1  Twelve  years  since,  Miranda,  twelve  years  since,']  Years, 
in  the  first  instance,  is  used  as  a  dissyllabic,  in  the  second  as  a 
monosyllable.  But  this  is  not  a  licence  peculiar  to  the  prosody 
of  Shakspeare.  In  the  second  book  of  Sidney's  Arcadia  are  the 
following  lines,  exhibiting  the  same  word  with  a  similar  prosodi- 
cal  variation: 

"  And  shall  she  die?  shall  cruel  ficr  spill 

"  Those  beanies  that  set  so  many  hearts  on  JireV 

Steevens. 


16  TEMPEST.  act  i. 

A  princess; — no  worse  issued.2 

Mira.  O,  the  heavens! 

What  foul  play  had  we,  that  we  came  from  thence? 
Or  blessed  was't,  we  did? 

Pro.  Both,  both,  my  girl: 

By  foul  play,  as  thou  say'st,  were  we  heav'd  thence ; 
But  blessedly  holp  hither. 

Mira.  O,  my  heart  bleeds 

To  think  o'  the  teen3  that  I  have  turn'd  you  to, 
Which   is  from  my  remembrance!     Please  you, 
'     further. 

Pro.    My  brother,  and  thy  uncle,  call'd  An- 
tonio,— 
I  pray  thee,  mark  me,— that  a  brother  should 
Be  so  perfidious! — he  whom,  next  thyself, 
Of  all  the  world  I  lov'd,  and  to  him  put 
The  manage  of  my  state;  as,  at  that  time, 
Through  ail  the  signiories  it  was  the  first, 
And  Prospero  the  prime  duke ;  being  so  reputed 
In  dignity,  and,  for  the  liberal  arts, 
Without  a  parallel;  those  being  all  my  study, 
The  government  I  cast  upon  my  brother, 
And  to  my  state  grew  stranger,  being  transported, 
And  rapt  in  secret  studies.     Thy  false  uncle — 
Dost  thou  attend  me? 

Mira.  Sir,  most  needfully. 

Pro.  Being  once  perfected  how  to  grant  suits, 


*  A  princess ; — no  tvorse  issued.]  The  old  copy  reads — "  And 
princess."  For  the  trivial  change  in  the  text  I  am  answerable. 
Issued  is  descended.     So,  in  Greene's  Card  of  Fancy,  l608: 

"  For  I  am  by  birth  a  gentleman,  and  issued  of  such  pa- 
rents," &c.     Steevens. 

1 teen  —  ]  is  sorrow,  grief,  trouble.     So,  in  Romeo  and 

Juliet : 

"  ■  ■■  ■  —  to  my  teen  be  it  spoken."     Steevens. 


sc.  ii.  TEMPEST.  17 

How  to  deny  them;  whom  to  advance,  and  whom4 
To  trash  for  over-topping;5  new  created 


4  ——whom  to  advance,  and  whom — ]  The  old  copy  has  ivho 
in  both  places.     Corrected  by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio. 

Ma  LONE. 

5  To  traslifor  over-topping ;]  To  trash,  as  Dr.  Warburton  ob- 
serves, is  to  cut  away  the  superfluities.  This  word  I  have  met 
with  in  books  containing  directions  for  gardeners,  published  in 
the  time  of  queen  Elizabeth. 

The  present  explanation  may  be  countenanced  by  the  follow- 
ing passage  in  Warner's  Albion's  England,  l602,  B.  X.  ch.  5J: 
"  Who  suftreth  none  by  might,  by  wealth  or  blood  to 

overtopp, 
"  Himself  gives  all  preferment,  and  whom  listeth  him 
doth  lop." 
Again,  in  our  author's  K.  Richard  II : 

"  Go  thou,  and,  like  an  executioner, 
"  Cut  off*  the  heads  of  too-fast-growing  sprays 
"  That  look  too  lofty  in  our  commonwealth." 
Mr.  Warton's  note,  however,  on — "  trash  for  his  quick  hunt- 
ing," in  the  second  act  of  Othello,  leaves  my  interpretation  of 
this  passage  somewhat  disputable. 

Mr.  M.  Mason  observes,  that  to  trash  for  overtopping,  "  may 
mean  to  lop  them,  because  they  did  overtop,  or  in  order  to  pre- 
vent them  from  overtopping.  So  Lucetta,  in  the  second  scene 
of  The  Tivo  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  says: 

"  I  was  taken  up  for  laying  them  down, 
"  Yet  here  they  shall  not  We,  for  catching  cold." 
That  is,  lest  they  should  catch  cold.     See  Mr.  M.  Mason's  note 
on  this  passage. 

In  another  place  (a  note  on  Othello)  Mr.  M.  Mason  observes, 
that  Shakspeare  had  probably  in  view,  when  he  wrote  the  passage 
before  us,  "  the  manner  in  which  Tarquin  conveyed  to  Sextus 
his  advice  to  destroy  the  principal  citizens  of  Gabii,  by  striking 
off,  in  the  presence  of'his  messengers,  the  heads  of  all  the  tallest 
poppies,  as  he  walked  with  them  in  his  garden."     Steevens. 

I  think  this  phrase  means  "  to  correct  for  too  much  haughti- 
ness or  overbearing."  It  is  used  by  sportsmen  in  the  North  w  ben 
they  correct  a  dog  for  misbehaviour  in  pursuing  the  game.  This 
explanation  is  warranted  by  the  following  passage  in  Othello* 
Act  II.  sc.  i: 

"  If  this  poor  trash  of  Venice,  whom  I  trash 

"  For  his  quick  hunting." 

VOL.  IV.  C 


is  TEMPEST.  act  i. 

The  creatures  that  were  mine;  I  say,  or  chang'd 

them, 
Or  else  new  form'd  them:  having  both  the  key6 
Of  officer  and  office,  set  all  hearts7 
To  what  tune  pleas'd  his  ear;  that  now  he  was 
The  ivy,  which  had  hid  my  princely  trunk, 
And  suck'd  my  verdure  out  on't.8 — Thou  attend'st 

not: 
I  pray  thee,  mark  me.9 

Mira.  O  good  sir,  I  do. 

Pro.  I  thus  neglecting  worldly  ends,  all  dedicate1 

It  was  not  till  after  I  had  made  this  remark,  that  I  saw  Mr.  War- 
ton's  note  on  the  above  lines  in  Othello,  which  corroborates  it. 

Douce. 

A  trash  is  a  term  still  in  use  among  hunters,  to  denote  a  piece 
of  leather,  couples,  or  any  other  weight  fastened  round  the  neck 
of  a  dog,  when  his  speed  is  superior  to  the  rest  of  the  pack;  i.  e. 
when  he  over-tops  them,  when  he  hunts  too  quick.     C. 

See  Othello,  Act  II.  sc.  i.     Steevens. 

6 both  the  key — ]  This  is  meant  of  a  key  for  tuning  the 

harpsichord,  spinnet,  or  virginal;  we  call  it  now  a  tuning  hammer. 

Sir  J.  Hawkins. 

7  Qf  officer  and  office,  set  all  hearts — ]  The  old  copy  reads — 
"  all  hearts  i'  th'  state,"  but  redundantly  in  regard  to  metre,  and 
unnecessarily  respecting  sense;  for  what  hearts,  except  such  as 
were  i*  th'  state,  could  Alonso  incline  to  his  purposes? 

I  have  followed  the  advice  of  Mr.  Ritson,  who  judiciously  pro- 
poses to  omit  the  words  now  ejected  from  the  text.    Steevens. 

8  And  suck'd  my  verdure  out  on't.']  So,  in  Arthur  Hall's  trans- 
lation of  the  first  book  of  Homer,  1581,  where  Achilles  swears 
by  his  sceptre: 

"  Who  having  lost  the  sapp  of  wood,  eft  greenenesse  cannot 
drawe."     Steevens. 

9  I  pray  thee,  mark  me."]  In  the  old  copy,  these  words  are  the 
beginning  of  Prospero's  next  speech;  but,  for  the  restoration  of 
metre,  I  have  changed  their  place.     Steevens. 

I I  thus  neglecting  worldly  ends,  all  dedicate — ]  The  old  copy 
has — "  dedicated;"  but  we  should  read,  as  in  the  present  text, 
"  dedicate."     Thus,  in  Measure  for  Measure; 


se.  ii.  TEMPEST.  19 

To  closeness,  and  the  bettering  of  my  mind 

With  that,  which,  but  by  being  so  retir'd, 

O'er-priz'd  all  popular  rate,  in  my  false  brother 

Awak'd  an  evil  nature:  and  my  trust, 

Like  a  good  parent,2  did  beget  of  him 

A  falsehood,  in  its  contrary  as  great 

As  my  trust  was;  which  had,  indeed,  no  limit, 

A  confidence  sans  bound.     He  being  thus  lorded, 

Not  only  with  what  my  revenue  yielded, 

But  what  my  power  might  else  exact, — like  one, 

Who  having,  unto  truth,  by  telling  of  it, 

Made  such  a  sinner  of  his  memory, 

To  credit  his  own  lie,3 — he  did  believe 


"  Prayers  from  fasting  maids,  whose  minds  are  dedicate 
"  To  nothing  temporal."     Ritson. 

*  Like  a  good  parent,  &c]  Alluding  to  the  observation,  that  a 
father  above  the  common  rate  of  men  has  commonly  a  son  be- 
low it.     Heroumjilii  noxce.     Johnson. 

3 like  one, 

Who  having,  unto  truth,  by  telling  of  it, 
Made  suck  a  sinner  of  his  memory, 

To  credit  his  otvn  lie,}  There  is,  perhaps,  no  correlative,  to 
which  the  word  it  can  with  grammatical  propriety  belong.  Lie, 
however,  seems  to  have  been  the  correlative  to  which  the  poet 
meant  to  refer,  however  ungrammatically. 

The  old  copy  reads — "  into  truth."  The  necessary  correc- 
tion was  made  by  Dr.  Warburton.     Steevens. 

Mr.  Steevens  justly  observes  that  there  is  no  correlative,  &c. 
This  observation  has  induced  me  to  mend  the  passage, and  to  read: 

Who  having  unto  truth,  by  telling  oft — instead  of,  of  it. 

And  I  am  confirmed  in  this  conjecture,  by  the  following  pas- 
sage quoted  by  Mr.  Malone,  &c.     M.  Mason. 

There  is  a  very  singular  coincidence  between  this  passage  and 
one  in  Bacon's  J //story  of  King  Henry  VII.  [Perkin  Warbeck] 
"  did  in  all  things  notably  acquit  himself;  insomuch  as  it  was 
generally  believed,  that  he  was  indeed  Duke  Richard.     Nay, 

himself,  with  lung  and  continual  counterfeiting,  and  ivith  oft  tell' 
ing  a  lye,  urns  turned  by  habit  almost  into  the  thing  he  seemed  ta 
7/e;  and  from  a  liar  to  be  a  believer.'*     Malone* 

r  ° 


20  TEMPEST.  act  J. 

He  was  the  duke;  out  of  the  substitution,4 
And  executing  the  outward  face  of  royalty, 
With  all  prerogative: — Hence  his  ambition 
Growing, — Dost  hear  ? 

Mira.  Your  tale,  sir,  would  cure  deafness. 

Pro.  To  have  no  screen  between  this  part  he 
play'd 
And  him  he  play'd  it  for,  he  needs  will  be 
Absolute  Milan:  Me,  poor  man! — my  library 
Was  dukedom  large  enough;  of  temporal  royalties 
He  thinks  me  now  incapable:  confederates 
(So  dry  he  was  for  sway5)  with  the  king  of  Naples, 
To  give  him  annual  tribute,  do  him  homage; 
Subject  his  coronet  to  his  crown,  and  bend 
The  dukedom,  yet  unbow'd,  (alas,  poor  Milan!) 
To  most  ignoble  stooping. 

Mira.  O  the  heavens ! 

Pro.  Mark  his  condition,  and  the  event;  then 
tell  me, 
If  this  might  be  a  brother. 

Mira.  I  should  sin 

To  think  but  nobly6  of  my  grandmother: 
Good  wombs  have  borne  bad  sons. 

Pro.  Now  the  condition. 


4  He  was  the  duke;  out  of  the  substitution,']  The  old  copy  reads 
— "  He  was  indeed  the  duke."  I  have  omitted  the  word  indeed, 
for  the  sake  of  metre.  The  reader  should  place  his  emphasis  on 
— was.     Steevens. 


> 


5  (So  dry  he  was  for  sway)]  i.  e.  So  thirsty.  The  expression 
I  am  told,  is  not  uncommon  in  the  midland  counties.  Thus,  in 
Leicester's  Commonwealth:  "against  the  designments  of  the  hasty 
Erie  who  thirsteth  a  kingdome  with  great  intemperance."  Again, 
in  Troilus  and  Cressida:  "  His  ambition  is  dry."     Steevens. 

6  To  think  but  nobly — ]  But,  in  this  place,  signifies  otherwise 
than.     Steevens. 


sc.  n.  TEMPEST.  21 

This  king  of  Naples,  being  an  enemy 
To  me  inveterate,  hearkens  my  brother's  suit; 
Which  was,  that  he  in  lieu  o'  the  premises,7 — 
Of  homage,  and  I  know  not  how  much  tribute, — 
Should  presently  extirpate  me  and  mine 
Out  of  the  dukedom;  and  confer  fair  Milan, 
With  all  the  honours,  on  my  brother:  Whereon, 
A  treacherous  army  levied,  one  midnight 
Fated  to  the  purpose,  did  Antonio  open 
The  gates  of  Milan;  and,  i'  the  dead  of  darkness, 
The  ministers  for  the  purpose  hurried  thence 
Me,  and  thy  crying  self. 

Mir  a.  Alack,  for  pity! 

I,  not  rememb'ring  how  I  cried  out  then,8 
Will  cry  it  o'er  again;  it  is  a  hint,9 
That  wrings  mine  eyes.1 


7  ■'  -  in  lieu  o'  the  premises,  &c]  In  lieu  of,  means  here,  in 
consideration  of;  an  unusual  acceptation  of  the  word.  So,  in 
Fletcher's  Prophetess,  the  chorus,  speaking  of  Drusilla,  says: 

"  But  takes  their  oaths,  in  lieu  of  her  assistance, 

"  That  they  shall  not  presume  to  touch  their  lives." 

M.  Mason. 

8  — —  cried  out — ]  Perhaps  we  should  read — cried  on't. 

Steevens. 

9 a  hint,]  Hint  is  suggestion.  So,  in  the  beginning  speech 

of  the  second  act: 

" our  hint  of  woe 

"  Is  common ." 


A  similar  thought  occurs  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra,  Act  V.  sc.  i: 

" it  is  a  tidings 

"  To  wash  the  eyes  of  kings."     Steevens. 

1  That  wrings  mine  eycsJ]  i.  e.  squeezes  the  water  out  of  them. 
The  old  copy  reads — 

"  That  wrings  mine  eyes  to't" 

To  xvhat?  every  reader  will  ask.  I  have,  therefore,  by  the 
advice  of  Dr.  Fanner,  omitted  these  words,  which  are  unneces- 
sary to  the  metre;  hear,  at  the  beginning  of  the  next  speech, 
being  used  as  a  dissyllable. 

To  wring,  in  the  .sense  I  contend  for,  occurs  in  the  Merry 


22  TEMPEST.  act  i. 

Pro.  Hear  a  little  further, 

And  then  I'll  bring  thee  to  the  present  business 
Which  now's  upon  us;   without  the  which,  this 

story 
Were  most  impertinent. 

Mira.  Wherefore  did  they  not 

That  hour  destroy  us? 

Pro.  Well  demanded,  wench  ; 

My  tale  provokes  that  question.     Dear,  they  durst 

not ; 
(So  dear  the  love  my  people  bore  me)  nor  set 
A  mark  so  bloody  on  the  business ;  but 
With  colours  fairer  painted  their  foul  ends. 
In  few,  they  hurried  us  aboard  a  bark  ; 
Bore  us  some  leagues  to  sea ;  where  they  prepar'd 
A  rotten  carcass  of  a  boat,2  not  rigg'd, 
Nor  tackle,  sail,  nor  mast ;  the  very  rats 
Instinctively  had  quit  it  :3  there  they  hoist  us, 
To  cry  to  the  sea  that  roar'd  to  us  ;4  to  sigh 
To  the  winds,  whose  pity,  sighing  back  again, 
Did  us  but  loving  wrong. 

Mira.  Alack!  what  trouble 

Was  I  then  to  you! 

Pro.  O!  a  cherubim 

Thou  wast,  that  did  preserve  me !  Thou  didst  smile, 
Infused  with  a  fortitude  from  heaven, 


Wives  of  Windsor,  Act  I.  sc.  ii:  "  his  cook,  or  his  laundry,  or 
his  washer,  and  his  tvringer."     Steevens. 

2 of  a  boat,]  The  old  copy  reads — of  a  butt.    Henley. 

It  was  corrected  by  Mr.  Rowe.     Malone. 

-had  quit  it  .•]  Old  copy — have  quit  it.     Corrected  by 


Mr.  Rowe.     Malone. 

4  To i  cry  to  the  sea  that  roar'd  to  us;~]  This  conceit  occurs 
again  in  the  Winter's  Tale: — "  How  the  poor  souls  roar'd,  and 
the  sea  mock'd  them,"  &c.     Steevens. 


sc.  ii.  TEMPEST.  23 

When  I  have  deck'd  the  sea5  with  drops  full  salt; 
Under  my  burden  groan'd;  which  rais'd  in  me 
An  undergoing  stomach,6  to  bear  up 
Against  what  should  ensue. 

Mira.  How  came  we  ashore? 

Pro.  By  Providence  divine. 
Some  food  we  had,  and  some  fresh  water,  that 


s deck'd  the  sea  — ]    To  deck  the  sea,  if  explained,  to 

honour,  adorn,  or  dignify,  is  indeed  ridiculous,  but  the  original 
import  of  the  verb  deck,  is  to  cover;  so  in  some  parts  they  yet 
say  deck  the  table.  This  sense  may  be  borne,  but  perhaps  the 
poet  wrote Jleck'd,  which  I  think  is  still  used  in  rustic  language 
of  drops  falling  upon  water.  Dr.  Warburton  reads  mock,d;  the 
Oxford  edition  brack'd.     Johnsox. 

Verstegan,  p.  6l.  speaking  of  beer,  says  "  So  the  over  deck  ins; 
or  covering  of  beer  came  to  be  called  berham,  and  afterwards 
barme."  This  very  well  supports  Dr.  Johnson's  explanation. 
The  following  passage  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra  may  countenance 
the  verb  deck  in  its  common  acceptation  : 

" do  not  please  sharp  fate 

"  To  grace  it  with  your  sorrows." 
What  is  this  but  decking  it  with  tears'? 

Again,  our  author's  Caliban  says,  Act  III.  sc.  ii: 

" He  has  brave  utensils, 

"  Which,  when  he  has  a  house,  he'll  deck  withal." 

Steevexs. 

To  deck,  I  am  told,  signifies  in  the  North,  to  sprinkle.  See 
Ray's  Dict.  of  North  Country  ivords,  in  verb,  to  deg,  and  to 
deck;  and  his  Dict.  of  South  Country  ivords,  in  verb.  dag.  The 
latter  signifies  deiv  upon  the  grass; — hence  daggle-taued.  In 
Cole's  Latin  Dictionary,  lb~g,  we  find, — "  To  dag,  cullutulo, 
irroro.'*     Ma  lone. 

A  correspondent,  who  signs  himself  Ehoracensis,  proposes  that 
this  contested  word  should  be  printed  degg'd,  which,  says  he, 

signifies  sprinkled,  and  is  in  daily  use  in  the  North  of  England. 
When  clothes  that  have  been  washed  are  too  much  dried,  it  is 
necessary  to  moisten  them  before  they  can  be  ironed,  which  is 
always  done  by  sprinkling  ;  this  operation  the  maidens  universally 
call  degging.     Reed. 

8  An  undergoing  stomach.]  Stomach  is  stubborn  resolution.  So, 
Horace:  " gravem  Pelidte  stomachum."     Steevens. 


24  TEMPEST.  act  i. 

A  noble  Neapolitan,  Gonzalo, 

Out  of  his  charity,  (who  being  then  appointed 

Master  of  this  design,)  did  give  us;7  with 


7  Some  food  we  had,  and  some  fresh  mater,  that 
A  noble  Neapolitan,  Gonzalo, 
Out  qf  his  charity,  (who  being  then  appointed 
Master  of  this  design)  did  give  us;']  Mr  Steevens  has  sug- 
gested, that  we  might  better  read — he  being  then  appointed;  and 
so  we  should  certainly  now  write:  but  the  reading  of  the  old 
copy  is  the  true  one,  that  mode  of  phraseology  being  the  idiom 
of  Shakspeare's  time.     So,  in  the  Winter's  Tale  : 

" This  your  son-in-law, 

"  And  son  unto  the  king,  [idiom  heavens  directing,) 
"  Is  troth-plight  to  your  daughter." 
Again,  in  Coriolanus: 

" waving  thy  hand, 

"  Which,  often,  thus,  correcting  thy  stout  heart, 
"  Now  humble  as  the  ripest  mulberry, 
"  That  will  not  hold  the  handling;  or,  say  to  them,"  &c. 

Malone. 

I  have  left  the  passage  in  question  as  I  found  it,  though  with 
slender  reliance  on  its  integrity. 

What  Mr.  Malone  has  styled  "  the  idiom  of  Shakspeare's 
time,"  can  scarce  deserve  so  creditable  a  distinction.  It  should 
be  remembered  that  the  instances  adduced  by  him  in  support  of 
his  position  are  not  from  the  early  quartos  which  he  prefers  on 
the  score  of  accuracy,  but  from  the  folio  1623,  the'  inaccuracy 
of  which,  with  equal  judgement,  he  has  censured. 

The  genuine  idiom  of  our  language,  at  its  different  periods,  can 
only  be  ascertained  by  reference  to  contemporary  writers  whose 
works  were  skilfully  revised  as  they  passed  through  the  press,  and 
are  therefore  unsuspected  of  corruption.  A  sufficient  number  of 
such  books  are  before  us.  If  they  supply  examples  of  phraseology 
resembling  that  which  Mr.  Malone  would  establish,  there  is  an  end 
of  controversy  between  us:  Let,  however,  the  disputed  phrases 
be  brought  to  their  test  before  they  are  admitted;  for  I  utterly 
refuse  to  accept  the  jargon  of  theatres  and  the  mistakes  of  printers, 
as  the  idiom  or  grammar  of  the  age  in  which  Shakspeare  wrote. 
Every  gross  departure  from  literary  rules  may  be  countenanced, 
if  we  are  permitted  to  draw  examples  from  vitiated  pages;  and 
our  readers,  as  often  as  they  meet  with  restorations  founded  on 
such  authorities,  may  justly  exclaim,  with  Othello, — "  Chaos  is 
come  again."     Steevens. 


i 


sc.  //.  TEMPEST.  25 

Rich  garments,  linens,  stuffs,  and  necessaries, 
Which  since  have  steaded  much;  so,  of  his  gentle- 
ness, 
Knowing  I  lov'd  my  books,  he  furnish'd  me, 
From  my  own  library,  with  volumes  that 
I  prize  above  my  dukedom. 

Mir  a.  'Would  I  might 

But  ever  see  that  man! 

Pro.  Now  I  arise  :8 — 

Sit  still,  and  hear  the  last  of  our  sea-sorrow. 
Here  in  this  island  we  arriv'd;  and  here 
Have  I,  thy  school-master,  made  thee  more  profit 
Than  other  princes9  can,  that  have  more  time 

8  Now  I  arise:']  Why  does  Prospero  arise?  Or,  if  he  does  it 
to  ease  himself  by  change  of  posture,  why  need  he  interrupt  his 
narrative  to  tell  his  daughter  of  it?  Perhaps  these  words  belong 
to  Miranda,  and  we  should  read: 

Mir.  ' JVould  I  might 
But  ever  see  that  man! — Noiv  I  arise. 

Pro.  Sit  still,  and  hear  the  last  of  our  sea-sorrow. 
Prospero,  in  p.  14,  had  directed  his  daughter  to  sit  down,  and 
learn  the  whole  of  this  history;  having  previously  by  some  magi- 
cal charm  disposed  her  to  fall  asleep.  He  is  watching  the  pro- 
gress of  this  charm  ;  and  in  the  mean  time  tells  her  a  long  story, 
often  asking  her  whether  her  attention  be  still  awake.  The  story 
being  ended  (as  Miranda  supposes)  with  their  coming  onshore, 
and  partaking  of  the  conveniences  provided  for  them  by  the  loyal 
humanity  of  Gonzalo,  she  therefore  first  expresses  a  wish  to  see 
the  good  old  man,  and  then  observes  that  she  may  now  arise,  as 
the  story  is  done.  Prospero,  surprized  that  his  charm  does  not 
yet  work,  bids  her  sit  still;  and  then  enters  on  fresh  matter  to 
amuse  the  time,  telling  her  (what  she  knew  before)  that  he  had 
been  her  tutor,  &c.  But  soon  perceiving  her  drowsiness  coming 
on,  he  breaks  off  abruptly,  and  leaves  her  still  sitting  to  her 
slumbers.     Black  stone. 

As  the  words — "  now  I  arise" — may  signify,  "  now  I  rise  m 
my  narration," — "  now  my  story  heightens  in  its  consequence," 
I  have  left  the  passage  in  question  undisturbed.  We  still  say, 
that  the  interest  of  a  drama  rises  or  declines.     Steevens. 

,J princes  — ]  The  first  folio  reads — princesse.  Henley. 

Corrected  by  Mr.  Rowe.     Malone. 


26  TEMPEST.  act  i. 

For  vainer  hours,  and  tutors  not  so  careful. 

Mira.  Heavens  thank  you  for't!  And  now,  I 
pray  you,  sir, 
(For  still  'tis  beating  in  my  mind,)  your  reason 
For  raising  this  sea-storm  ? 

Pro.  Know  thus  far  forth. — 

By  accident  most  strange,  bountiful  fortune, 
Now  my  dear  lady,1  hath  mine  enemies 
Brought  to  this  shore :  and  by  my  prescience 
I  find  my  zenith  doth  depend  upon 
A  most  auspicious  star;  whose  influence 
If  now  I  court  not,  but  omit,2  my  fortunes 
Will  ever  after  droop. — Here  cease  more  questions; 
Thou  art  inclin'd  to  sleep;  'tis  a  good  dulness,3 
And    give    it    way; — I    know    thou    can'st    not 
choose. —  [Miranda  sleeps. 

Come  away,  servant,  come:  I  am  ready  now; 
Approach,  my  Ariel;  come. 

Enter  Ariel. 

Ari.  All  hail,  great  master!  grave  sir,  hail!  I 
come 


1  Now  my  dear  lady,]  i.  e.  now  my  auspicious  mistress. 

Steevens. 
*  I  find  my  zenith  doth  depend  upon 
A  most  auspicious  star ;  whose  influence 
If  now  I  court  not,  but  omit,  &c]   So,  in  Julius  Ccesar: 
"  There  is  a  tide  in  the  affairs  of  men, 
"  Which  taken  at  the  flood,  leads  on  to  fortune; 
"  Omitted,  all  the  voyage  of  their  life 
"  Is  bound  in  shallows  and  in  miseries."     Malone. 

3  ■  'tis  a  good  dulness,"]   Dr.  Warburton  rightly  observes, 

that  this  sleepiness,  which  Prospero  by  his  art  had  brought  upon 
Miranda,  and  of  which  he  knew  not  how  soon  the  effect  would 
begin,  makes  him  question  her  so  often  whether  she  is  attentive 
to  his  story.    Johnson. 


sc.  n.  TEMPEST.  27 

To  answer  thy  best  pleasure;  be't  to  fly,4 

To  swim,  to  dive  into  the  fire,  to  ride 

On  the  curl'd  clouds;5  to  thy  strong  bidding,  task 

Ariel,  and  all  his  quality.6 

Pro.  Hast  thou,  spirit, 

Perform'd  to  point7  the  tempest  that  I  bade  thee? 

Am.  To  every  article. 
I  boarded  the  king's  ship ;  now  on  the  beak,8 

4  All  hail,  great  master !  grave  sir,  hail!  I  come 
To  ansxver  thy  best  pleasure;  be't  to  Jlyy  &c]  Imitated 
by  Fletcher  in  The  Faithful  Shepherdess: 
"  — —  tell  me  sweetest, 
"  What  new  service  now  is  meetest 
"  For  the  satyre;  shall  I  stray 
"  In  the  middle  ayre,  and  stay 
"  The  sailing  racke,  or  nimbly  take 
"  Hold  by  the  moone,  and  gently  make 
"  Suit  to  the  pale  queene  of  night, 
"  For  a  beame  to  give  thee  light? 
"  Shall  I  dive  into  the  sea, 
"  And  bring  thee  coral,  making  way 
"  Through  the  rising  waves,  &c.     Henley. 

*  On  the  curl'd  clouds ;]  So,  in  Timon — Crisp  heaven. 

Steevens. 

6  and  all  his  quality.]  i.  e.  all  his  confederates,  all  who 

are  of  the  same  profession.     So,  in  Hamlet : 

"  Come  give  us  a  taste  of  your  quality.'"  See  notes  on  this 
passage,  Act  II.  sc.  ii.     Steevens. 

7  Perform'' d  to  point  — ]  i.  e.  to  the  minutest  article;  a  literal 
translation  of  the  French  phrase — a  point.  So,  in  the  Chances, 
by  Beaumont  and  Fletcher: 

"  are  you  all  fit? 

"  To  point,  sir." 
Thus,  in  Chapman's  version  of  the  second  book  of  Homer's 
Odyssey,  we  have 

"  — — —  every  due 

"  Perform'd  to  full:       - ."     Steevens. 

8  — —  noiv  on  the  beak,]  The  beak  was  a  strong  pointed  body 
at  the  head  of  the  ancient  gallies;  it  is  used  here  for  the  fore- 
castle, or  the  boltsprit.     Johnson. 

So  in  Philemon  Holland's  translation  of  the  2d  chapter  of  the 


28  TEMPEST.  act  i. 

Now  in  the  waist,9  the  deck,  in  every  cabin, 
I  flam'd  amazement:  Sometimes,  I'd  divide, 
And  burn  in  many  places;1  on  the  top-mast, 
The  yards  and  bowsprit,  would  I  flame  distinctly, 
Then  meet,  and  join:  Jove's  lightnings,  the  pre- 
cursors 
O'  the  dreadful  thunder-claps,2  more  momentary 
And  sight-out-running  were  not:    The  fire,  and 

cracks 
Of  sulphurous  roaring,  the  most  mighty  Neptune 
Seem'd  to  besiege, and  make  his  bold  waves  tremble, 
Yea,  his  dread  trident  shake.3 


32d  book  of  Pliny's  Natural  History: — "  our  goodly  tall  and 
proud  ships,  so  well  armed  in  the  beake-head  with  yron  pikes," 
&c.     Steevens. 

9  Now  in  the  waist,]  The  part  between  the  quarter-deck  and 
the  forecastle.     Johnson. 


Sometimes,  Pd  divide, 


And  burn  in  many  places ;]  Perhaps  our  author,  when  he 
wrote  these  lines,  remembered  the  following  passage  in  Hack- 
luyt's  Voyages,  1598:  "  I  do  remember  that  in  the  great  and 
boysterous  storme  of  this  foule  weather,  in  the  night  there  came 
upon  the  toppe  of  our  maine  yard  and  maine-mast  a  certaine 
little  light,  much  like  unto  the  light  of  a  little  candle,  which  the 
Spaniards  call  the  Cuerpo  Santo.  This  light  continued  aboord 
our  ship  about  three  houres,  flying from  maste  to  maste,  and  from 
top  to  top ;  and  sometimes  it  would  be  in  two  or  three  places  at 
once."     Malone. 

Burton  says,  that  the  Spirits  offlre,  m  form  of  fire-drakes  and 
blazing  stars,  "  oftentimes  sit  on  ship-masts,"  &c.  Melanch.  P.  I. 
§  2.  p.  30.  edit.  1632.     T.  Warton. 


precursors 

0*  the  dreadful  thunder-claps,']   So,  in  King  Lear: 
"  'Vant  couriers  of  oak-cleaving  thunderbolts." 

Steevens. 

3  Yea,  his  dread  trident  shake.']  Lest  the  metre  should  appear 
defective,  it  is  necessary  to  apprize  the  reader,  that  in  Warwick- 
shire and  other  midland  counties,  shake  is  still  pronounced  by  the 
common  people  as  if  it  was  written  shar/ke,  a  dissyllable.  Farmer. 


sc.  ii.  TEMPEST.  29 

Pro.  My  brave  spirit! 

Who  was  so  firm,  so  constant,  that  this  coil 
Would  not  infect  his  reason? 

Am.  Not  a  soul 

But  felt  a  fever  of  the  mad,4  and  play'd 
Some  tricks  of  desperation :  All,  but  mariners, 
Plung'd  in  the  foaming  brine,  and  quit  the  vessel,5 
Then  all  a-fire  with  me:  the  king's  son,  Ferdinand, 
With  hair  up-staring  (then  like  reeds,  not  hair,) 
Was  the  first  man  that  leap'd;  cried,  Hell  is  empty, 
And  all  the  devils  are  here. 

Pro.  Why?  that's  my  spirit ! 

Cut  was  not  this  nigh  shore? 

Am.  Close  by,  my  master. 

Pro.  But  are  they,  Ariel,  safe? 

Ari.  Not  a  hair  perish'd; 

On  their  sustaining0  garments  not  a  blemish, 

The  word  shake  is  so  printed  in  Golding's  version  of  the  9th 
book  of  Ovid's  Metamorphoses,  edit.  15/5: 

"  Hee  quaak't  and  shaak't  and  looked  pale,"  &c. 

Steevens. 

4  But  felt  a  fever  of  the  mad,']  If  it  be  at  all  necessary  to  ex- 
plain the  meaning,  it  is  this:  JSiot  a  soul  but  felt  such  a  fever  as 
madmen  feci,  ivhen  the  frantic  ft  is  upon  them.     Steevens. 

5  and  quit  the  vessel,]   Quit  is,  I  think,  here  used  for 

quitted.     So,  in  K.  Lear: 

" 'Twas  he  inform'd  against  him, 

"  And  quit  the  house  on  purpose,  that  their  punishment 
"  Might  have  the  freer  course." 
So,  in  King  Henri/  VI.  P.  I.  lift,  for  lifted: 

"  He  ne'er  lift  up  his  hand,  but  conquered."     Malone. 

6  sustaining — ]  i.e.  their  garments  that  bore  them  up 

and  supported  them.     Thus,  in  Chapman's  translation  of  the 
eleventh  Iliad: 

"  Who  fell,  and  crawled  upon  the  earth  with  his  sus- 
taining  palmes." 
Again,  in  A'.  Lear,  Act  IV.  sc.  iv: 
"  In  our  sustaining  corn." 


SO  TEMPEST.  act  i. 

But  fresher  than  before:  and,  as  thou  bad'st  me, 
In  troops  I  have  dispers'd  them  'bout  the  isle: 
The  king's  son  have  I  landed  by  himself; 
Whom  I  left  cooling  of  the  air  with  sighs, 
In  an  odd  angle  of  the  isle,  and  sitting, 
His  arms  in  this  sad  knot. 

Pro.  Of  the  king's  ship, 

The  mariners,  say,  how  thou  hast  dispos'd, 
And  all  the  rest  o'  the  fleet? 

Art.  Safely  in  harbour 

Is  the  king's  ship;  in  the  deep  nook,  where  once 
Thou  call'dst  me  up  at  midnight  to  fetch  dew 
From  the  still-vex'd  Bermoothes,7  there  she's  hid: 

Again,  in  Hamlet: 

" Her  clothes  spread  wide 

"  And,  mermaid-like,  a  while  they  bore  her  up." 
Mr.  M.  Mason,  however,  observes  that  "  the  word  sustaining 
in  this  place  does  not  mean  supporting,  but  enduring;  and  by 
their  sustaining  garments,  Ariel  means  their  garments  which  bore, 
without  being  injured,  the  drenching  of  the  sea."     Steevens. 

7  From  the  still-vex'd  Bermoothes,]  Fletcher,  in  his  Women 
Pleased,  says,  "  The  devil  should  think  of  purchasing  that  egg- 
shell to  victual  out  a  witch  for  the  Beermoothes."  Smith,  in  his 
account  of  these  islands,  p.  172,  says,  "  that  the  Bermudas  -Mere 
so  fearful  to  the  world,  that  many  called  them  The  Isle  of  Devils. — 
P.  174. — to  all  seamen  no  less  terrible  than  an  inchanted  den  of 
furies"  And  no  wonder,  for  the  clime  was  extremely  subject  to 
storms  and  hurricanes;  and  the  islands  were  surrounded  with 
scattered  rocks  lying  shallovvly  hid  under  the  surface  of  the  water. 

Warburton. 

The  epithet  here  applied  to  the  Bermudas,  will  be  best  under- 
stood by  those  who  have  seen  the  chafing  of  the  sea  over  the 
rugged  rocks  by  which  they  are  surrounded,  and  which  render 
access  to  them  so  dangerous.  It  was  in  our  poet's  time  the  cur- 
rent opinion,  that  Bermudas  was  inhabited  by  monsters,  and 
devils. — Setebos,  the  god  of  Caliban's  dam,  was  an  American 
devil,  worshipped  by  the  giants  of  Patagonia.     Henley. 

Again,  in  Decker's  If  this  be  not  a  good  Play,  the  Devil  is  in 
it,  1012:  "  Sir,  if  you  "have  made  me  tell  a  lye,  they'll  send  me 
on  a  voyage  to  the  island  of  Hogs  and  Devils,  the  Bermudas." 

Steevens. 


sc.  ii.  TEMPEST.  si 

The  mariners  all  under  hatches  stow'd; 
Whom,  with  a  charm  join'd  to  their  suffer'd  labour, 
I  have  left  asleep:  and  for  the  rest  o'  the  fleet, 
Which  I  dispers'd,  they  all  have  met  again; 
And  are  upon  the  Mediterranean  flote,8 
Bound  sadly  home  for  Naples; 
Supposing  that  they  saw  the  king's  ship  wreck'd, 
And  his  great  person  perish. 

Pro.  Ariel,  thy  charge 

Exactly  is  perform'd;  but  there's  more  work: 
What  is  the  time  o'  the  day  ? 9 

Ari.  Past  the  mid  season. 


The  opinion  that  Bermudas  was  haunted  with  evil  spirits  con- 
tinued so  late  as  the  civil  wars.  In  a  little  piece  of  Sir  John 
Berkinghead's  intitled,  Two  Centuries  of  Paul's  Church-yard, 
una  cum  indice  expurgatorio,  &c.  12°,  in  page  62,  under  the  title 
Cases  of  Conscience,  is  this: 

"  34.  Whether  Bermudas  and  the  Parliament-house  lie  under 
one  planet,  seeing  both  are  haunted  with  devils."     Percy. 

Bermudas  was  on  this  account  the  cant  name  for  some  privi- 
leged place,  in  which  the  cheats  and  riotous  bullies  of  Shakspeare's 
time  assembled.     So,  in  The  Devil  is  an  Ass,  by  Ben  Jonsou: 

" keeps  he  still  your  quarter 

"  In  the  Bermudas?" 
Again,  in  one  of  his  Epistles: 

"  Have  their  Bermudas,  and  their  straights  i'  th'  Strand.'* 
Again,  in  The  Devil  is  an  Ass: 

" I  gave  my  word 

"  For  one  that's  run  away  to  the  Bermudas."  Steeven.s. 

8  the  Mediterranean  flote,]   Flote  is  wave.     Flot.  Fr. 

Stebvens. 

1  What  is  the  time  o'  the  day?]  This  passage  needs  not  be 
disturbed,  it  being  common  to  ask  a  question,  which  the  next 
moment  enables  us  to  answer:  he  that  thinks  it  faulty,  may 
easily  adjust  it  thus: 

Pro.   What  is  the  time  o*  the  day?  Past  the  mid  season  ? 

Ari.   At  least  two  glasses. 

Pro.   The  time  'Iwixt  six  and  now — .     Joiixson". 


Mr.  Upton  proposes  to  regulate  this  passage  differently: 
Ariel.  Past  the  mid  season,  at  least  two  glasses. 
Pros.    The  time,  fire.     MALotfE. 


32  TEMPEST.  act  i. 

Pro.  At  least  two  glasses :  The  time  'twixt  six 
and  now, 
Must  by  us  both  be  spent  most  preciously. 

Ari.  Is  there  more  toil?  Since  thou  dost  give 
me  pains, 
Let  me  remember  thee  what  thou  hast  promis'd, 
Which  is  not  yet  perform'd  me. 

Pro.  How  now?  moody? 

What  is't  thou  can'st  demand? 

Art.  My  liberty. 

Pro.  Before  the  time  be  out?  no  more. 

Ari.  I  pray  thee 

Remember,  I  have  done  thee  worthy  service; 
Told  thee  no  lies,  made  no  mistakings,  serv'd1 
Without   or  grudge,  or  grumblings:    thou  didst 

promise 
To  bate  me  a  full  year. 

Pro.  Dost  thou  forget2 


1  Told  thee  no  lies,  made  no  mistakings,  served — ]   The  old 
copy  has — 

"  Told  thee  no  lies,  made  thee  no  mistakings,  serv'd — ." 

The  repetition  of  a  word  will  be  found  a  frequent  mistake  in 
the  ancient  editions.     Ritson. 

*  Dost  thou  forget — ]  That  the  character  and  conduct  of  Pros- 
pero  may  be  understood,  something  must  be  known  of  the  system 
of  enchantment,  which  supplied  all  the  marvellous  found  in  the 
romances  of  the  middle  ages.  This  system  seems  to  be  founded  on 
the  opinion  that  the  fallen  spirits,  having  different  degrees  of  guilt, 
had  differenthabitations  allotted  them  at  their  expulsion,  some  being 
confined  in  hell,  some  (as  Hooker,  who  delivers  the  opinion  of  our 
poet's  age,  expresses  it, )  dispersed  in  air,  some  on  earth,  some  in 
water,  others  in  caves,  dens,  or  minerals  under  the  earth.  Of 
these,  some  were  more  malignant  and  mischievous  than  others. 
The  earthy  spirits  seem  to  have  been  thought  the  most  depraved, 
and  the  aerial  the  less  vitiated.     Thus  Prospero  observes  of  Ariel : 

Thou  wast  a  spirit  too  delicate 

To  act  her  earthy  and  abhorred  commands. 
Over  these  spirits  a  power  might  be  obtained  by  certain  rites  per- 


sc.  ii.  TEMPEST.  S3 

From  what  a  torment  I  did  free  thee  ? 

Am.  No. 

Pro.  Thou  dost?  and  think'st 
It  much,  to  tread  the  ooze  of  the  salt  deep ; 
To  run  upon  the  sharp  wind  of  the  north; 
To  do  me  business  in  the  veins  o'  the  earth, 
When  it  is  bak'd  with  frost. 

Ari.  I  do  not,  sir. 

Pro.  Thou  liest,  malignant  thing!  Hast  thou 
forgot 
The  foul  witch  Sycorax,3  who,  with  age,  and  envy, 
Was  grown  into  a  hoop?  hast  thou  forgot  her? 


Formed  or  charms  learned.  This  power  was  called  The  black  Art, 
or  Knowledge  of  Enchantment.  The  enchanter  being  (as  king- 
James  observes  in  his  Demonology)  one  who  commands  the  devil, 
rvhereas  the  witch  semes  him.  Those  who  thought  best  of  this 
art,  the  existence  of  which  was,  I  am  afraid,  believed  very  seri- 
ously, held,  that  certain  sounds  and  characters  had  a  physical 
power  over  spirits,  and  compelled  their  agency;  others,  who  con- 
demned the  practice,  which  in  reality  was  surely  never  practised, 
were  of  opinion,  with  more  reason,  that  the  power  of  charms  arose 
only  from  compact,  and  was  no  more  than  the  spirits  voluntarily 
allowed  them  for  the  seduction  of  man.  The  art  was  held  by  all, 
though  not  equally  criminal,  yet  unlawful,  and  therefore  Casau- 
bon,  speaking  of  one  who  had  commerce  with  spirits,  blames  him, 
though  he  imagines  him  one  of  the  best  kind,  who  dealt  with  them 
by  way  of  command.  Thus  Prospero  repents  of  his  art  in  the  last 
scene.  The  spirits  were  always  considered  as  in  some  measure 
enslaved  to  the  enchanter,  at  least  for  a  time,  and  as  serving  with 
unwillingness;  therefore  Ariel  so  often  begs  for  liberty;  and  Cali- 
ban observes,  that  the  spirits  serve  Prospero  with  no  good  will, 
but  hate  him  rootedly. — Of  these  trifles  enough.     Johnson. 

*  The  foul  witch  Sycorax,~\  This  idea  might  have  been  caught 
from  Dionyse  Settle's  Reporte  of  the  Last  Voyage  of  Capteine 
Frobisher,  i2mo.  bl.  1.  1577.  He  is  speaking  of  a  woman  found 
on  one  of  the  islands  described.  "  The  old  wretch,  whome  diuers 
of  our  Saylers  supposed  to  be  a  Diuell,  or  a  Witche,  plucked  off 
her  buskins,  to  see  if  she  were  clouen  footed,  and  for  her  ougly 
hewe  and  deformitie,  we  let  her  goe."  Steevens. 
VOL.    IV.  D 


34  TEMPEST.  act  i. 

Ari.  No,  sir. 

Pro.  Thou  hast:  Where  was  she  born? 

speak;  tell  me» 

Ari.  Sir,  in  Argier.4 

Pro.  O,  was  she  so?  I  must, 

Once  in  a  month,  recount  what  thou  hast  been, 
Which  thou  forget'st.  This  damn'd  witch,  Sycorax, 
For  mischiefs  manifold,  and  sorceries  terrible 
To  enter  human  hearing,  from  Argier, 
Thou  know'st,  was  banish'd;  for  one  thing  she  did, 
They  would  not  take  her  life:  Is  not  this  true? 

Ari.  Ay,  sir. 

Pro.  This    blue-ey'd  hag  was  hither  brought 

with  child, 
And  here  was  left  by  the  sailors :  Thou,  my  slave, 
As  thou  report'st  thyself,  wast  then  her  servant: 
And,  for  thou  wast  a  spirit  too  delicate 
To  act  her  earthy  and  abhorr'd  commands, 
Refusing  her  grand  hests,  she  did  confine  thee, 
By  help  of  her  more  potent  ministers, 
And  in  her  most  unmitigable  rage, 
Into  a  cloven  pine ;  within  which  rift 
Imprison'd,  thou  did'st  painfully  remain 
A  dozen  years;  within  which  space  she  died, 
And  left  thee  there;  where  thou  did'st  vent  thy 

groans, 
As  fast  as  mill-wheels  strike :  Then  was  this  island, 
(Save  for  the  son  that  she  did  litter  here, 
A  freckled  whelp,  hag-born,)  not  honour'd  with 
A  human  shape. 

Ari.  Yes ;  Caliban  her  son. 

*  • in  Argier.]  Argier  is  the  ancient  English  name  for  Al- 

fliers.  See  a  pamphlet  entitled,  A  true  Relation  of  the  Travailes, 
&c.  of  William  Davies,  Barber-surgeon,  &c.  1614.  In  this  is  a 
chapter  «  on  the  description,  &c.  of  Argier.^     Steevens. 


sc.  ii.  TEMPEST.  35 

Pro.  Dull  thing,  I  say  so;  he,  that  Caliban, 
Whom  now  I  keep  in  service.    Thou  best  know'st 
What  torment  I  did  rind  thee  in:  thy  groans 
Did  make  wolves  howl,  and  penetrate  the  breasts 
Of  ever-angry  bears ;  it  was  a  torment 
To  lay  upon  the  damn'd,  which  Sycorax 
Could  not  again  undo;  it  was  mine  art, 
When  I  arriv'd,  and  heard  thee,  that  made  gape 
The  pine,  and  let  thee  out. 

Ari.  I  thank  thee,  master. 

Pro.  If  thou  more  murmur'st,  I  will  rend  an  oak, 
And  peg  thee  in  his  knotty  entrails,  till 
Thou  hast  howl'd  away  twelve  winters. 

Ari.  Pardon,  master: 

I  will  be  correspondent  to  command, 
And  do  my  spiriting  gently. 

Pro.  Do  so;  and  after  two  days 

I  will  discharge  thee. 

Ari.  That's  my  noble  master! 

What  shall  I  do?  say  what?  what  shall  I  do? 

Pro.  Go  make  thyself  like  to  a  nymph  o'the  sea; 
Be  subject  to  no  sight  but  mine;  invisible 
To  every  eye-ball  else.6     Go,  take  this  shape, 


to  a  nymph  o*  the  sea ;]  There  does  not  appear  to  be 


5 


sufficient  cause  why  Ariel  should  assume  this  new  shape,  as  he 
was  to  be  invisible  to  all  eyes  but  those  of  Prospero.  Steevens. 

6  Be  subject  to  no  sight  but  mine;  invisible 
To  every  eye-ball  else."]  The  old  copy  reads — 
"  Be  subject  to  no  sight  but  thine  and  mine;  invisible," &c. 
But  redundancy  in  the  first  line,  and  the  ridiculous  precaution 
that  Ariel  should  not  be  invisible  to  himself,  plainly  prove  that 
the  words — and  thine —  were  the  interpolations  of  ignorance. 

Steevens. 
Go  make  thyself  like  a  nymph  oy  the  sea :  be  subject 
To  no  sight  but  thine  and  mine ;  invisible,  &c]   The  words 
— "  be  subject" — having  been  transferred  in  the  first  copy  of  this 

D  2 


36  TEMPEST.  act  i. 

And  hither  come  in't:  hence,  with  diligence.7 

[Exit  Ariel. 
Awake,  dear  heart,  awake  !  thou  hast  slept  well ; 
Awake! 

Mira.  The  strangeness8  of  your  story  put 
Heaviness  in  me. 

Pro.  Shake  it  off:  Come  on; 

We'll  visit  Caliban,  my  slave,  who  never 
Yields  us  kind  answer. 

Mira.  'Tis  a  villain,  sir, 

I  do  not  love  to  look  on. 

Pro.  But,  as  'tis, 


play  to  the  latter  ofthese  lines,by  the  carelessness  of  the  transcriber 
or  printer,  the  editor  of  the  second  folio,  to  supply  the  metre  of 
the  former,  introduced  the  word  to; — reading,  "  like  to  a  nymph 
o'  the  sea."  The  regulation  that  I  have  made,  shews  that  the 
addition,  like  many  others  made  by  that  editor,  was  unnecessary. 

Malone. 

My  arrangement  of  this  passage  admits  the  word  to,  which,  I 

think,  was  judiciously  restored  by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio. 

Steevens. 

7  And  hither  come  in't:  hence,  tvith  diligence.']  The  old  copy 
reads — 

"  And  hither  come  in't:  go,  hence  with  diligence." 
The  transcriber  or  compositor  had  caught  the  word  go  from 
the  preceding  line.     Ritson. 

8  The  strangeness — ]  Why  should  a  wonderful  story  produce 
sleep?  I  believe  experience  will  prove,  that  any  violent  agitation 
of  the  mind  easily  subsides  in  slumber,  especially  when,  as  in 
Prospero's  relation,  the  last  images  are  pleasing.     Johnson. 

The  poet  seems  to  have  been  apprehensive  that  the  audience, 
as  well  as  Miranda,  would  sleep  over  this  long  but  necessary  tale, 
and  therefore  strives  to  break  it.  First,  by  making  Prospero 
divest  himself  of  his  magic  robe  and  wand:  then  by  waking  her 
attention  no  less  than  six  times  by  verbal  interruption:  then  by 
varying  the  action  when  he  rises  and  bids  her  continue  sitting: 
and  lastly,  by  carrying  on  the  business  of  the  fable  while  Miranda 
sleeps,  by  which  she  is  continued  on  the  stage  till  the  poet  has 
occasion  for  her  again.    Warner. 


sc.  n.  TEMPEST.  37 

We  cannot  miss  him:9  he  does  make  our  fire, 
Fetch  in  our  wood;  and  serves  in  offices 
That  profit  us.     What  ho!  slave!  Caliban! 
Thou  earth,  thou!  speak. 

Cal.  \_Within~]  There's  wood  enough  within. 

Pro.  Come  forth,  I  say;  there's  other  business 
for  thee: 
Come  forth,  thou  tortoise!  when?1 

Re-enter  Ariel,  like  a  water-nymph. 

Fine  apparition!  My  quaint  Ariel, 
Hark  in  thine  ear. 

Art.  My  lord,  it  shall  be  done.  [Exit. 

Pro.  Thou  poisonous  slave,  got  by  the  devil 
himself 
Upon  thy  wicked  dam,  come  forth! 

Enter  Caliban. 

Cal.  As  wicked  dew  as  e'er  my  mother  brush'd 
With  raven's  feather  from  unwholesome  fen, 
Drop  on  you  both!2  a  south-west  blow  on  ye, 
And  blister  you  all  o'er! 

9  We  cannot  miss  him :]  That  is,  we  cannot  do  without  him. 

M.  Mason. 

This  provincial  expression  is  still  used  in  the  midland  counties. 

Malone. 

1  Come  forth,  thou  tortoise!  when?]  This  interrogation,  indica- 
tive of  impatience  in  the  highest  degree,  occurs  also  in  Ki?ig 
Richard  II.  Act  I.  sc.  i. :  "  When,  Harry?"  See  note  on  this 
passage,  Act  I.  sc.  i. 

In  Prospero's  summons  to  Caliban,  however,  as  it  stands  in 
the  old  copy,  the  word  forth  (which  I  have  repeated  for  the  sake 
of  metre)  is  wanting.     Steevens. 

?  Cal.    As  tvicked  dew  as  e'er  my  mother  brush'd 

With  raven1  s feather  from  unwholesomefen, 

Drop  on  you  both .']    It  was  a  tradition,  it  seems,  that 


33  TEMPEST.  act  L 

Pro.  For  this,  be  sure,  to-night  thou  shalt  have 
cramps, 
Side-stitches  that  shall  pen  thy  breath  up ;  urchins3 


Lord  Falkland,  Lord  C.  J.  Vaughan,  and  Mr.  Selden  concurred 
in  observing,  that  Shakspeare  had  not  only  found  out  a  new  cha- 
racter in  his  Caliban,  but  had  also  devised  and  adapted  a  new 
manner  of  language  for  that  character.  What  they  meant  by  it, 
without  doubt,  was,  that  Shakspeare  gave  his  language  a  certain 
grotesque  air  of  the  savage  and  antique;  which  it  certainly  has. 
But  Dr.  Bentley  took  this,  of  a  new  language,  literally;  for, 
speaking  of  a  phrase  in  Milton,  which  he  supposed  altogether 
absurd  and  unmeaning,  he  says,  Satan  had  not  the  privilege,  as 
Caliban  in  Shakspeare,  to  use  new  phrase  and  diction  unknown  to 

all  others and  again — to  practise  distances  is  still  a  Caliban 

style.  Note  on  Milton's  Paradise  Lost,  1.  iv.  v.  945.  But  I 
know  of  no  such  Caliban  style  in  Shakspeare,  that  hath  new 
phrase  and  diction  unknown  to  all  others.     Warburton. 

Whence  these  critics  derived  the  notion  of  a  new  language 
appropriated  to  Caliban,  I  cannot  find:  they  certainly  mistook 
brutality  of  sentiment  for  uncouthness  of  words.  Caliban  had 
learned  to  speak  of  Prospero  and  his  daughter;  he  had  no  names 
for  the  sun  and  moon  before  their  arrival,  and  could  not  have 
invented  a  language  of  his  own,  without  more  understanding  than 
Shakspeare  has  thought  it  proper  to  bestow  upon  him.  His  dic- 
tion is  indeed  somewhat  clouded  by  the  gloominess  of  his  temper, 
and  the  malignity  of  his  purposes;  but  let  any  other  being  enter- 
tain the  same  thoughts,  and  he  will  find  them  easily  issue  in  the 
same  expressions.     Johnson. 

As  wicked  dew  — ]  Wicked;  having  baneful  qualities.  So 
Spenser  says,  wicked  weed ;  so,  in  opposition,  we  say  herbs  or 
medicines  have  virtues.  Bacon  mentions  virtuous  bezoar,  and 
Dryden  virtuous  herbs.     Johnson. 

So,  in  the  Book  of  Haukyng,  &c.  bl.  1.  no  date  :  "  If  a  wycked 
fellon  be  swollen  in  such  a  manner  that  a  man  may  hele  it,  the 
hauke  shall  not  dye."  Under  King  Henry  VI.  the  parliament 
petitioned  against  hops,  as  a  wicked  weed.  See  Fuller's  Worthies : 
Essex.     Steevens. 

3 urchins — 1  i.  e.  hed^eho^s. 

Urchins  are  enumerated  by  Reginald  Scott  among  other  terrific 
beings.     So,  in  Chapman's  May  Day,  1 6l  I : 

" to  fold  thyself  up  like  an  urchin." 

Again,  in  Selimus  Emperor  of  the  Turks,  1584: 


sc.  ii.  TEMPEST.  39 

Shall,  for  that  vast  of  night  that  they  may  work,4 
All  exercise  on  thee  :  thou  shalt  be  pinch'd 


"  What,  are  the  urchins  crept  out  of  their  dens, 
"  Under  the  conduct  of  this  porcupine!" 
Urchins  are  perhaps  here  put  for  fairies.  Milton  in  his  Masque 
speaks  of  "  urchin  blasts,"  and  we  still  call  any  little  dwarfish 
child,  an  urchin.     The  word  occurs  again  in  the  next  act.     The 
echinus,  or  sea  hedge-hog,  is  still  denominated  the  urchin. 

Steevens. 

In  the  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor  we  have  "  urchins,  ouphes, 
and  fairies ;"  and  the  passage  to  which  Mr.  Steevens  alludes, 
proves,  I  think,  that  urchins  here  signifies  beings  of  the  fairy  kind: 
"  His  spirits  hear  me, 

"  And  yet  I  needs  must  curse;  but  they'll  nor  pinch, 
"  Fright  me  with  urchin-shews,  pitch  me  i'  the  mire,"  &c. 

Malone. 

In  support  of  Mr.  Steevens's  note,  which  does  not  appear  satis- 
factory to  Mr.  Malone,  take  the  following  proofs  from  Hormanni 
Vulgaria,  4to.  1515,  p.  1(X): — "  Urchyns  or  Hedgehoggis,  full 
of  sharpe  pryckillys,  whan  they  know  that  they  be  hunted,  make 
them  rounde  lyke  a  balle."  Again,  "  Porpyns  have  longer 
prykels  than  urchyns."     Douce. 

4 for  that  vast  of  night  that  they  may  tvorl-,~]  The  vast  of 

night  means  the  night  which  is  naturally  empty  and  deserted, with- 
out action;  or  when  all  things  lying  in  sleep  and  silence,  makes  the 
world  appear  one  great  uninhabited  tvaste.     So,  in  Hamlet : 

"  In  the  dead  ivaste  and  middle  of  the  night." 
It  has  a  meaning  like  that  of  nox  vasta. 

Perhaps,  however,  it  may  be  used  with  a  signification  somewhat 
different,  in  Pericles  Prince  of  Tyre,  l60p: 

"  Thou  God  of  this  great  vast,  rebuke  the  surges." 

Vastum  is  likewise  the  ancient  law  term  for  waste,  uncultivated 
land;  and,  with  this  meaning,  vast  is  used  by  Chapman  in  his 
Shadoio  of  Night,  1594: 

" When  unlightsome,  vast,  and  indigest, 

"  The  formeless  matter  of  this  world  did  lye." 

It  should  be  remembered,  that,  in  the  pneumatology  of  former 
ages, these  particulars  were  settled  with  the  most  minute  exactness, 
and  the  different  kinds  of  visionary  beings  had  different  allotments 
of  timesuitabletothevarietyor  consequence  of  their  employments. 
During  these  spaces,  they  were  at  liberty  to  act,  but  were  always 
obliged  to  leave  off  at  a  certain  hour,  that  they  might  not  inter- 
fere in  that  portion  of  night  which  belonged  to  others.     Among 


40  TEMPEST.  act  l 

As  thick  as  honey-combs,  each  pinch  more  stinging 
Than  bees  that  made  them. 

Cal.  I  must  eat  my  dinner. 

This  island's  mine,  by  Sycorax  my  mother, 
Which  thou  tak'st  from  me.     When  thou  earnest 

first,5 
Thou  strok'dstme,andmad'stmuchof  me;  would'st 

give  me 
Water  with  berries  in't;  and  teach  me  how 
To  name  the  bigger  light,  and  how  the  less, 
That  burn  by  day  and  night :  and  then  I  lov'd  thee, 
And  shew'd  thee  all  the  qualities  o'  the  isle, 
The  fresh  springs,  brine  pits,  barren  place,  and  fer- 
tile; 
Cursed  be  I  that  did  so ! — All  the  charms6 
Of  Sycorax,  toads,  beetles,  bats,  light  on  you! 
For  I  am  all  the  subjects  that  you  have, 
Which  first  was  mine  own  king:  and  here  you  sty  me 
In  this  hard  rock,  whiles  you  do  keep  from  me 
The  rest  of  the  island. 

Pro.  Thou  most  lying  slave, 

Whom  stripes  may  move,  not  kindness:  I  have  us'd 
thee, 

these,  we  may  suppose  urchins  to  have  had  a  part  subjected  to 
their  dominion.  To  this  limitation  of  time  Shakspeare  alludes 
again  in  K.  Lear :  "  He  begins  at  curfew,  and  walks  till  the  second 
cock.'*     Steevens. 

5  Which  thou  tak'st  from  me.     When  thou  earnest  fast,"]  We 
might  read — 

"  Which  thou  tak'st  from  me.     When  thou  cam'st  here 
first — ."     Ritson. 

6 All  the  charms — ]   The  latter  word,  like  many  others  of 

the  same  kind,  is  here  used  as  a  dissyllable.     Malone. 

Why  should  we  encourage  a  supposition  which  no  instance 
whatever  countenances?  viz.  that  charms  was  used  as  a  dissyllable. 
The  verse  is  complete  without  such  an  effort  to  prolong  it: 
"  Cursed  |  be  I  |  that  did  |  so!  All  |  the  charms — ." 

Steevens. 


sc.  ii.  TEMPEST.  41 

Filth  as  thou  art,  with  human  care ;  and  lodg'd  thee 
In  mine  own  cell,  till  thou  didst  seek  to  violate 
The  honour  of  my  child. 

Cal.  O  ho,  O  ho!7 — 'would  it  had  been  done! 
Thou  didst  prevent  me ;  I  had  peopled  else 
This  isle  with  Calibans. 

Pro.  Abhorred  slave;8 

Which  any  print  of  goodness  will  not  take, 
Being  capable  of  all  ill !  I  pitied  thee, 
Took  pains  to  make  thee  speak,  taught  thee  each 

hour 
One  thing  or  other:  when  thou  didst  not,  savage, 
Know  thine  own  meaning,9  but  would'st  gabble  like 
A  thing  most  brutish,  I  endow'd  thy  purposes 
With  words  that  made  them  known :  But  thy  vile 

race,1 


7  0  ho,  O  hot]  This  savage  exclamation  was  originally  and  con- 
stantly appropriated  by  the  writers  of  our  ancient  Mysteries  and 
Moralities,  to  the  Devil;  and  has,  in  this  instance,  been  trans- 
ferred to  his  descendant  Caliban.     Steevens. 

9  Abhorred  slave;]  This  speech,  which  the  old  copy  gives  to 
Miranda,  is  very  judiciously  bestowed  by  Theobald  on  Prospero. 

Johnson 

Mr.  Theobald  found,  or  might  have  found,  this  speech  trans- 
ferred to  Prospero  in  the  alteration  of  this  play  by  Dryden  and 
Davenant.     Malone. 

9 when  thou  didst  not,  savage, 

Know  thine  own  meaning,']  By  this  expression,  however  de- 
fective, the  poet  seems  to  have  meant — When  thou  didst  utter 
sounds,  to  which  thou  hadst  no  determinate  meaning:  but  the  fol- 
lowing expression  of  Mr.  Addison,  in  his  38(jth  Spectator,  con- 
cerning the  Hottentots,  may  prove  the  best  comment  on  this 
passage:  " — having  no  language  among  them  but  a  confused 
gabble,  which  is  neither  well  understood  by  themselves,  or  others." 

Steevens. 


1 But  ihu  vile  race,]  The  old  copy  has  vild,  but  it  is  only 

the  ancient  mode  of  spelling  vile.     Race,  in  this  place,  seen  t>    J 
signify  original  disposition,  inborn  qualities.  In  this  sense  we  biill 


42  TEMPEST.  act  i. 

Though  t~iou  didst  learn,  had  that  in't  which  good 

natures 
Could  not  abide  to  be  with;  therefore  wast  thou 
Deservedly  confin'd  into  this  rock, 
Who  hadst  deserv'd  more  than  a  prison. 

Cal.  You  taught  me  language  ;  and  my  profit 
on't 
Is,  I  know  how  to  curse:  The  red  plague  rid  you,2 
For  learning  me  your  language ! 

Pro.  Hag-seed,  hence! 

Fetch  us  in  fuel;  and  be  quick,  thou  wert  best, 
To  answer  other  business.     Shrug' st thou,  malice? 
If  thou  neglect'st,  or  dost  unwillingly 
What  I  command,  I'll  rack  thee  with  old  cramps ; 
Fill  all  thy  bones  with  aches;  make  thee  roar, 
That  beasts  shall  tremble  at  thy  din. 

Cal.  No,  'pray  thee! — 

I  must  obey :  his  art  is  of  such  power,         \_Aside. 

say — The  race  of  tune:  Thus,  in  Massinger's  New  Way  to  pay 
old  Debts  : 

"  There  came,  not  six  days  since,  from  Hull,  a  pipe 

"  Of  rich  canary. 

"  Is  it  of  the  right  race?" 
and  Sir  W.  Temple  has  somewhere  applied  it  to  works  of  litera- 
ture.    Steevens. 

Race  and  raciness  in  wine,  signifies  a  kind  of  tartness. 

Blackstone. 

2 the  red  plague  rid  you,"]  I  suppose  from  the  redness  of 

the  body,  universally  inflamed.     Johnson. 

The  erysipelas  was  anciently  called  the  red  plague.  Steevens. 

So  again,  in  Coriolanus : 

"  Now  the  red  pestilence  strike  all  trades  in  Rome!" 
The  word  rid,  which  has  not  been  explained,  means  to  destroy. 
So,  in  K.  Henry  VI.  P.  II: 

" If  you  ever  chance  to  have  a  child, 

"  Look,  in  his  youth,  to  have  him  so  cut  off, 
"  As,  deathsmen!  you  have  rid  this  sweet  young  prince." 

Malone. 


sc.  n.  TEMPEST.  43 

It  would  control  my  dam's  god,  Setebos,3 
And  make  a  vassal  of  him. 

Pro.  So,  slave;  hence! 

[Exit  Caliban. 

Re-enter  Ariel  invisible?  playing  and  singing; 
Ferdinand  following  him. 

Ariel's  Song. 

Come  unto  these  yellow  sands, 

And  then  take  hands: 
Court* sied  "when  you  have,  and  Iriss'd, 

(The  mid  waves  xchist,y 


3 my  dam' 's  god,  Setebos,]  A  gentleman  of  great  merit, 

Mr.  Warner,  has  observed  on  the  authority  of  John  Barbot,  that 
"  the  Patagons  are  reported  to  dread  a  great  horned  devil,  called 
Setebos." — It  may  be  asked,  however,  how  Shakspeare  knew  any 
thing  of  this,  as  Barbot  was  a  voyager  of  the  present  century?— 
Perhaps  he  had  read  Eden's  History  of  Travayle,  1577,who  tells 
i:S  p.  434,  that  "  the  giantes,  when  they  found  themselves  fet- 
tered, roared  like  bulls,  and  cried  upon  Setebos  to  help  them." — 
The  metathesis  in  Caliban  from  Canibal  is  evident.     Farmer. 

We  learn  from  Magellan's  voyage,  that  Setebos  was  the  supreme 
god  of  the  Patagons,  and  Cheleule  was  an  inferior  one.  Tollet. 

Setebos  is  also  mentioned  in  Hackluyt's  Voyages,  15QS. 

Malone. 

*  Re-enter  Ariel  invisible,]  In  the  wardrobe  of  the  Lord  Ad- 
miral's men,  (i.e.  company  of  comedians,)  15Q8,  was — "  a  robe 
for  to  goo  invisebcU."  See  the  MS.  from  Dulwich  college,  quoted 
by  Mr.  Malone,  Vol.  III.     Steevkns. 

'  CourVsied  when  you  have,  and  kiss'd,]  As  was  anciently  done 
at  the  beginning  of  some  dances.  So,  in  A'.  Henry  VIII.  that 
prince  says  to  Anna  Hullen — 

"  I  were  unmannerly  to  take  you  out, 
"  And  not  to  kiss  you." 
The  ivi/d  waves  whist;]   i.e.  the  wild  waves  being  silent. 
So,  in  Spenser's  Fairy  Queen,  B.  VII.  c.  7.  s.  50: 

"  So  was  the  Titaness  put  down,  and  u-hisi  " 


44  TEMPEST.  act  i. 

Foot  itfeatly  here  and  there; 

And,  sweet  sprites,  the  burden  bear* 

Hark,  hark! 
Bur.  Bowgh,  wowgh.  \_dispersedly. 

The  watch-dogs  bark: 
Bur.  Bowgh,  wowgh.  \_dispersedly. 

Hark,  hark!  I  hear 
The  strain  of  strutting  chanticlere 
Cry,  Cock-a-doodle-doo. 

Fer.  Where  should  this  musick  be?  i'  the  air, 
or  the  earth? 
It  sounds  no  more: — and  sure,  it  waits  upon 
Some  god  of  the  island.     Sitting  on  a  bank, 
Weeping  again  the  king  my  father's  wreck,7 


And  Milton  seems  to  have  had  our  author  in  his  eye.     See 
stanza  5,  of  his  Hymn  on  the  Nativity: 
"  The  winds  with  wonder  whist, 
"  Smoothly  the  waters  kiss'd." 
So  again,  both  Lord  Surrey  and  Phaer,  in  their  translations  of 
the  second  book  of  Virgil: 

"  — Conticuere  omnes. 

"  They  uihisted  all." 
and  Lyly,  in  his  Maid's  Metamorphosis,  1600: 

"  But  every  thing  is  quiet,  ivhist,  and  still.'*    Steevens. 
6 the  burden  bear.']  Old  copy — bear  the  burden.     Cor- 
rected by  Mr.  Theobald.     Malone. 

7  Weeping  again  the  king  my  father's  lured,]  Thus  the  old 
copy ;  but  in  the  books  of  Shakspeare's  age  again  is  sometimes 
printed  instead  of  against,  [i.  e.  opposite  to,]  which  I  am  per- 
suaded was  our  author's  word.  The  placing  Ferdinand  in  such  a 
situation  that  he  could  still  gaze  upon  the  wrecked  vessel,  is  one 
of  Shakspeare's  touches  of  nature.  Again  is  inadmissible;  for 
this  would  import  that  Ferdinand's  tears  had  ceased  for  a  time ; 
whereas  he  himself  tells  us,  afterwards,  that  from  the  hour  of  his 
father's  wreck  they  had  never  ceased  to  flow: 
-  Myself  am  Naples, 


« 


"  Who  with  mine  eyes,  ne'er  since  at  ebb,  beheld 
"  The  king  my  father  wreck'd." 


sc.  ii.  TEMPEST.  45 

This  musick  crept  by  me  upon  the  waters;8 
Allaying  both  their  fury,  and  my  passion, 
With  its  sweet  air:  thence  I  have  follow'd  it, 
Or  it  hath  drawn  me  rather: — But  'tis  gone. 
No,  it  begins  again. 

Ariel  sings. 

Full  fathom  Jive  thy  father  lies;9 

Of  his  bones  are  coral  made; 
Those  are  pearls  that  were  his  eyes: 

Nothing  of  him  that  doth  fade,1 

However,  as  our  author  sometimes  forgot  to  compare  the  differ- 
ent parts  of  his  play,  I  have  made  no  change.     Malone. 

By  the  word — again,  I  suppose  the  Prince  means  only  to  de» 
scribe  the  repetition  of  his  sorrows.  Besides,  it  appears  from  Mi- 
randa's description  of  the  storm,  that  the  ship  had  been  swallowed 
by  the  waves,  and,  consequently,  could  no  longer  be  an  object  of 
sight.     Steevens. 

8  This  musick  crept  by  me  upon  the  waters;]  So,  in  Milton's 
Masque  : 

" a  soft  and  solemn  breathing  sound 

*'  Rose  like  a  steam  of  rich  distill'd  perfumes, 
"  And  stole  upon  the  air."     Steevens. 

9  Full  fathom  Jive  thy  father  lies  ;  &c]  Ariel's  lays,  [which  have 
been  condemned  by  Gildon  as  trifling,  and  defended  not  very  suc- 
cessfully by  Dr.  Warburton,]  however  seasonable  and  efficacious, 
must  be  allowed  to  be  of  no  supernatural  dignity  or  elegance;  they 
express  nothing  great, nor  reveal  anything  above  mortal  discovery. 

The  reason  for  which  Ariel  is  introduced  thus  trifling  is,  that 
he  and  his  companions  are  evidently  of  the  fairy  kind,  an  order  of 
beings  to  which  tradition  has  always  ascribed  a  sort  of  diminutive 
agency,  powerful  but  ludicrous,  a  humorous  and  frolick  control- 
ment  of  nature,  well  expressed  by  the  songs  of  Ariel.  Johnson. 

The  songs  in  this  play,  Dr.  Wilson,  who  reset  and  published 
two  of  them,  tells  us,  in  his  Court  Ayres,  or  Ballads,  published 
at  Oxford,  lbOO,  that  "  Full  fathom  Jive,'*  and  "  Where  the  bee 
sucks,"  had  been  first  set  by  Robert  Johnson,  a  composer  con- 
temporary with  Shakspeare.     Burney. 

1  Nothing  of  him  that  doth  fade, 
lint  doth  suffer  a  sea-change — ]  The  meaning  is — Every  thing 
about  him,  that  is  liable  to  alteration,  is  changed.     Steevens. 


46  TEMPEST.  act  i. 

But  doth  suffer  a  sea-change1 
Into  something  rich  and  strange. 
Sea-nymphs  hourly  ring  his  knell i 
Hark!  now  I  hear  them, — ding-dong,  bell.3 

[Burden,  ding-dong.4 

Fer.  The  ditty  does  remember  my  drown'd  fa- 
ther : — 
This  is  no  mortal  business,  nor  no  sound 
That  the  earth  owes:5 — I  hear  it  now  above  me. 

Pro.  The  fringed  curtains6  of  thine  eye  advance 


8  But  doth  suffer  a  sea-change — ]  So,  in  Milton's  Masque: 
"  And  underwent  a  quick  immortal  change" 

Steevens. 

3  Sea-nymphs  hourly  ring  his  knell: 
Hark!  now  I  hear  them, — Ding-dong,  bell. 

Burden,  ding-dong.] 
So,  in  The  Golden  Garland  of Princely  Delight,  &c.  13th  edi- 
tion, 169O: 

"  Corydon's  doleful  knell  to  the  tune  of  Ding,  dong." 
"  I  must  go  seek  a  new  love, 
"  Yet  will  I  ring  her  knell, 

Ding,  dong." 
The  same  burthen  to  a  song  occurs  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice, 
Act  III.  sc.  ii.     Steevens. 

4  Burden,  ding-dong."]  It  should  be — 

Ding-dong,  ding-dong,  ding-dong  bell.     Farmer. 

5  That  the  earth  owes:]   To  owe,  in  this  place,  as  well  as  many 
others,  signifies  to  own.     So,  in  Othello: 

" that  sweet  sleep 

u  Which  thou  ow'dst  yesterday." 
Again,  in  the  Tempest  : 

" thou  dost  here  usurp 

"  The  name  thou  ow'st  not." 
To  use  the  word  in  this  sense,  is  not  peculiar  to  Shakspeare. 
I  meet  with  it  in  Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  Beggar's  Bush  : 

"  If  now  the  beard  be  such,  what  is  the  prince 

"  That  owes  the  beard?"     Steevens. 

6  The  fringed  curtains,  &c]    The  same  expression  occurs  in 
Pericles  Prince  of  Tyre,  1609: 

« _  her  eyelids 

"  Begin  to  part  iheirjringes  of  bright  gold." 


sc.  il  TEMPEST.  47 

And  say,  what  thou  seest  yond\ 

MiRA.  Wliat  is't?  a  spirit? 

Lord,  how  it  looks  about!  Believe  me,  sir, 
It  carries  a  brave  form : — But  'tis  a  spirit. 

Pro.  No,  wench;  it  eats  and  sleeps,  and  hath 

such  senses 
As  we  have,  such :  This  gallant,  which  thou  seest, 
Was  in  the  wreck;  and  but  he's  something  stain'd 
With  grief,  that's  beauty's  canker,  thou  might'st 

call  him 
A  goodly  person:  he  hath  lost  his  fellows, 
And  strays  about  to  find  them. 

Mira.  I  might  call  him 

A  thing  divine;  for  nothing  natural 
I  ever  saw  so  noble. 

Pro.  It  goes  on,7  [Aside. 

As  my  soul  prompts  it: — Spirit,  fine  spirit!  I'll  free 

thee 
Within  two  days  for  this. 

Fer.  Most  sure,  the  goddess 

On  whom  these  airs  attend!8 — Vouchsafe,  my  prayer 


Again,  in  Sidney's  Arcadia,  Lib.  I:  "  Sometimes  my  eyes 
would  lay  themselves  open — or  cast  my  lids,  as  curtains,  over  the 
image  of  beauty  her  presence  had  painted  in  them."     Ste  evens. 

7  It  goes  o?i,]  The  old  copy  reads — "  It  goes  on,  /  see,"  Set. 
But  as  the  words  /  see,  are  useless,  and  an  incumbrance  to  the 
metre,  I  have  omitted  them.     Steevens. 

8  Most  sure,  &c]  It  seems,  that  Shakspeare,  in  The  Tempest, 
hath  been  suspected  of  translating  some  expressions  of  Virgil; 
witness  the  O  Dea  certe.  I  presume  we  are  here  directed  to  the 
passage,  where  Ferdinand  says  of  Miranda,  after  hearing  the 
songs  of  Ariel: 

Most  sure,  the  goddess 

On  whom  these  airs  attend! — 
And  so  very  small  Latin  is  sufficient  for  this  formidable  translation, 
that,  if  it  be  thought  any  honour  to  our  poet,  I  am  loth  to  depri\e 


48  TEMPEST.  act  i. 

May  know,  if  you  remain  upon  this  island; 
And  that  you  will  some  good  instruction  give, 
How  I  may  bear  me  here :  My  prime  request, 
Which  I  do  last  pronounce,  is,  O  you  wonder! 
If  you  be  made,  or  no? 

Mir  a.  No  wonder,  sir; 

But,  certainly  a  maid.9 


him  of  it;  but  his  honour  is  not  built  on  such  a  sandy  foundation. 
Let  us  turn  to  a  real  translator,  and  examine  whether  the  idea 
might  not  be  fully  comprehended  by  an  English  reader,  suppos- 
ing it  necessarily  borrowed  from  Virgil.  Hexameters  in  our  lan- 
guage are  almost  forgotten;  we  will  quote  therefore  this  time 
trom  Stanyhurst: 

"  O  to  thee,  fay  re  virgin,  what  terme  may  rightly  be  fitted? 

**  Thy  tongue,  thy  visage  no  mortal  frayltie  resembleth. 

" No  doubt,  a  goddesse!"    Edit.  1583.    Farmer. 

f  9 certainly  a  maid.']  Nothing  could  be  more  prettily  ima- 
gined, to  illustrate  the  singularity  of  her  character,  than  this 
pleasant  mistake.  She  had  been  bred  up  in  the  rough  and  plain- 
dealing  documents  of  moral  philosophy,  which  teaches  us  the 
knowledge  of  ourselves ;  and  was  an  utter  stranger  to  the  flattery 
invented  by  vicious  and  designing  men  to  corrupt  the  other  sex. 
So  that  it  could  not  enter  into  her  imagination,  that  complaisance, 
and  a  desire  of  appearing  amiable,  qualities  of  humanity  which 
she  had  been  instructed,  in  her  moral  lessons,  to  cultivate,  could 
ever  degenerate  into  such  excess,  as  that  any  one  should  be  will- 
ing to  have  his  fellow-creature  believe  that  he  thought  her  a 
goddess,  or  an  immortal.     Warburton. 

Dr.  Warburton  has  here  found  a  beauty,  which  I  think  the 
author  never  intended.  Ferdinand  asks  her  not  whether  she  was 
a  created  being,  a  question  which,  if  he  meant  it,  he  has  ill  ex- 
pressed, but  whether  she  was  unmarried;  for  after  the  dialogue 
which  Prospero's  interruption  produces,  he  goes  on  pursuing  his 
former  question: 

Oifa  virgin, 

I'll  make  you  queen  of  Naples.    Johnson. 

A  passage  in  Lyly's  Galathea  seems  to  countenance  the  present 
text:  "  The  question  among  men  is  common,  are  you  a  maide?" 
— yet  I  cannot  but  think,  that  Dr.  Warburton  reads  very  rightly: 
"  If  you  be  made,  or  no."  When  we  meet  with  a  harsh  expres- 
sion in  Shakspeare,  we  are  usually  to  look  for  a  play  upon  words. 


sc.  ii.  TEMPEST.  49 

Feu.  My  language!  heavens! — 

I  am  the  best  of  them  that  speak  this  speech, 


Fletcher  closely  imitates  The  Tempest  in  his  Sea  Voyage:  and  he 
introduces  Albert  in  the  same  manner  to  the  ladies  ot  his  Desert 
Island: 

"  Be  not  offended,  goddesses,  that  I  fall 
"  Thus  prostrate,"  &c. 
Shakspeare  himself  had  certainly  read,  and  had  probably  now  in 
his  mind,  a  passage  in  the  third  book  of  The  Fairy  Queen,  be- 
tween Timias  and  Belphccbe: 

"  Angel  or  goddess!  do  I  call  thee  right? 

"  There-at  she  blushing,  said,  ah!  gentle  squire, 

"  Nor  goddess  I,  nor  angel,  but  the  maid 

"  And  daughter  of  a  woody  nymph,"  &c.    Farmer. 

So  Milton,  Comus,  265 : 

" Hail  foreign  wonder! 

"  Whom  certain  these  rough  shades  did  never  breed, 

"  Unless  the  Goddess,"  &c. 
Milton's  imitation  explains  Shakspeare.  Maid  is  certainly  a  cre- 
ated being,  a  Woman  in  opposition  to  Goddess.  Miranda  immedi- 
ately destroys  this  first  sense  by  a  quibble.  In  the  mean  time,  I 
have  no  objection  to  read  made,  i.  e.  created.  The  force  of  the 
sentiment  is  the  same.  Comus  is  universally  allowed  to  have 
taken  some  of  its  tints  from  The  Tempest.     T.  Warton. 

The  first  copy  reads — if  you  be  maid,  or  no.  Made  was  not 
suggested  by  Dr.  Warburton,  being  an  emendation  introduced  by 
the  editor  of  the  fourth  folio.  It  was,  I  am  persuaded,  the  au- 
thor's word:  There  being  no  article  prefixed  adds  strength  to  this 
supposition.  Nothing  is  more  common  in  his  plays  than  a  word 
being  used  in  reply,  in  a  sense  different  from  that  in  which  it  was 
employed  by  the  first  speaker.  Ferdinand  had  the  moment  before 
called  Miranda  a  goddess;  and  the  words  immediately  subjoined, 
— "  Vouchsafe  my  prayer" — show,  that  he  looked  up  to  her  as 
a  person  of  a  superior  order,  and  sought  her  protection,  and  in- 
struction for  his  conduct,  not  her  love.  At  this  period,  therefore, 
he  must  have  felt  too  much  awe  to  have  flattered  himself  with  the 
hope  of  possessing  a  being  that  appeared  to  him  celestial ;  though 
afterwards,  emboldened  by  what  Miranda  says,  he  exclaims,  "  O, 
if  a  virgin,"  ftc.  words  that  appear  inconsistent  with  the  supposition 
that  he  had  already  asked  her  whether  she  was  one  or  not.  She  h-d 
indeed  told  him,  she  was;  but  in  his  astonishment  at  hearing  her 
speak  his  own  language, he  may  well  be  supposed  to  have  forgotten 

VOL.  IV,  E 


50  TEMPEST.  act  i. 

Were  I  but  where  'tis  spoken. 

Pro.  How!  the  best? 

Whatwert  thou,  if  the  king  of  Naples  heard  thee? 

Fer.  A  single  thing,  as  I  am  now,  that  wonders 
To  hear  thee  speak  of  Naples:  He  does  hear  me; 
And,  that  he  does,  I  weep :  myself  am  Naples ; 
Who  with  mine  eyes,  ne'er  since  at  ebb,  beheld 
The  king  my  father  wreck'd. 

Mira.  Alack,  for  mercy! 

Fer.  Yes,  faith,  and  all  his  lords;  the  duke  of 
Milan, 
And  his  brave  son,  being  twain.1 

Pro.  The  duke  of  Milan, 


what  she  said;  which,  if  he  had  himself  made  the  inquiry,  would 
not  be  very  reasonable  to  suppose. 

It  appears  from  the  alteration  of  this  play  by  Dryden  and  Sir  W. 
D'Avenant,  that  they  considered  the  present  passage  in  this  light: 

" Fair,  excellence, 

"  If,  as  your  form  declares,  you  are  divine, 
f '  Be  pleas'd  to  instruct  me,  how  you  will  be  worship'd ; 
"  So  bright  a  beauty  cannot  sure  belong 
"  To  human  kind." 
In  a  subsequent  scene  we  have  again  the  same  inquiry: 
Alon.  "  Is  she  the  goddess  that  hath  sever'd  us, 
"  And  brought  us  thus  together?" 
Fer.  "  Sir,  she's  mortal." 
Our  author  might  have  remembered  Lodge's  description  of  Faw- 
nia,  the  Perdita  of  his   Winter's  Tale:  "  Yet  he  scarce  knew 
her,  for  she  had  attired  herself  in  rich  apparel,  which  so  increas- 
ed her  beauty,  that  she  resembled  rather  an  angel  than  a  crea- 
ture."    Dorastus  and  Fatonia,  15Q2.     Malone. 

The  question,  (I  use  the  words  of  Mr.  M.  Mason,)  is  "  whether 
our  readers  will  adopt  a  natural  and  simple  expression  which  re- 
quires no  comment,  or  one  which  the  ingenuity  of  many  com- 
mentators has  but  imperfectly  supported."     Steevens. 

1  And  his  brave  son,  being  twain."]  This  is  a  slight  forgetful- 
ness.  Nobody  was  lost  in  the  wreck,  yet  we  find  no  such  cha- 
racter as  the  son  of  the  duke  of  Milan.    Theobald. 


sc.  n.  TEMPEST.  51 

And  his  more  braver  daughter,  could  control  thee,1 
If  now  'twere  fit  to  do't: — At  the  first  sight 

\_Aside. 
They  have  chang'd  eyes: — Delicate  Ariel, 
I'll  set  thee  free  for  this! — A  word,  good  sir; 
I  fear,  you  have  done  yourself  some  wrong:3  a 
word. 

Mira.  Why  speaks  my  father  so  ungently  ?  This 
Is  the  third  man  that  e'er  I  saw;  the  first 
That  e'er  I  sigh'd  for:  pity  move  my  father 
To  be  inclin'd  my  way! 

Fer.  O,  if  a  virgin, 

And  your  affection  not  gone  forth,  I'll  make  you 
The  queen  of  Naples. 

Pro.  Soft,  sir;  one  word  more. — 

They  are  both  in  either's  powers:  but  this  swift 

business 
I  must  uneasy  make,  lest  too  light  winning  \_Aside. 
Make  the  prize  light. — One  word  more;  I  charge 

thee, 
That  thou  attend  me:  thou  dost  here  usurp 
The  name  thou  ow'st  not;  and  hast  put  thyself 
Upon  this  island,  as  a  spy,  to  win  it 
From  me,  the  lord  on't. 

Fer.  No,  as  I  am  a  man. 

Mira.  There's  nothing  ill  can  dwell  in  such  a 
temple : 


control  thee,']  Confute  thee,  unanswerably  contradict 


thee.     Johnson. 

*  I  fear,  you  have  done  yourself  some  tvrong:"]  i.  e.  I  fear  that, 
in  asserting  yourself  to  be  King  of  Naples,  you  have  uttered  a 
falsehood,  which  is  below  your  character,  and,  consequently,  inju- 
rious to  your  honour.  So,  in  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor — 
"  This  is  not  well,  master  Ford,  this  vcrongs  you.'*      Steevens. 

£  2 


32.  TEMPEST.  ACT  7. 

If  the  ill  spirit  have  so  fair  an  house, 
Good  things  will  strive  to  dwell  with't. 

Pro.  Follow  me. —  [To  Ferd. 

Speak  not  you  for  him;  he's  a  traitor. — Come. 
I'll  manacle  thy  neck  and  feet  together: 
Sea-water  shalt  thou  drink,  thy  food  shall  be 
The  fresh-brook  muscles,  wither'd  roots,  and  husks 
Wherein  the  acorn  cradled:  Follow. 

Fer.  No; 

I  will  resist  such  entertainment,  till 
Mine  enemy  has  more  power.  [He  draws, 

Mira.  O  dear  father, 

Make  not  too  rash  a  trial  of  him,  for 
He's  gentle,  and  not  fearful.4 

4  He's  gentle,  and  not  fearful.]  Fearful  signifies  both  terrible 
and  timorous.  In  this  place  it  may  mean  timorous.  She  tells 
her  father,  that  as  he  is  gentle,  rough  usage  is  unnecessary;  and 
as  he  is  brave,  it  may  be  dangerous. 

Fearful,  however,  may  signify  formidable,  as  in  K.  Henry  IV: 
"  A  mighty  and  a  fearful head  they  are." 
and  then  the  meaning  of  the  passage  is  obvious.     Steevens. 

"  Do  not  rashly  determine  to  treat  him  with  severity,  he  is 
mild  and  harmless,  and  not  in  the  least  terrible  or  dangerous." 

Ritson. 

A  late  novellist  has  the  following  remark  on  this  passage : — 
"  How  have  your  commentators  been  puzzled  by  the  following 
expression  in  The  Tempest — He's  gentle,  and  not  fearful ;  as  if  it 
was  a  paralogism  to  say  that  being  gentle,  he  must  of  course  be 
courageous:  but  the  truth  is,  one  of  the  original  meanings,  if 
not  the  sole  meaning,  of  that  word  was,  noble,  high  minded:  and 
to  this  day  a  Scotch  woman  in  the  situation  of  the  young  lady 
in  The  Tempest,  would  express  herself  nearly  in  the  same  terms. 
— Don't  provoke  him;  for  being  gentle,  that  is,  high  spirited,  he 
won't  tamely  bear  an  insult.  Spenser,  in  the  very  first  stanza 
of  his  Fairy  Queen,  says: 

"  A  gentle  knight  was  pricking  on  the  plain," 
which  knight,  far  from  being  tame  and  fearful,  was  so  stout  that 

"  Nothing  did  he  dread,  but  ever  was  ydrad." 

Smollett's  Humphrey  Clinker,  Vol.  II.  p.  182. 

Reed. 


sc.  n.  TEMPEST.  53 

Pro.  What,  I  say, 

My  foot  my  tutor!5 — Put  thy  sword  up,  traitor; 
Who  mak'st  a  shew,  but  dar'st  not  strike,  thy  con- 
science 
Is  so  possess'd  with  guilt:  come  from  thy  ward;6 
For  I  can  here  disarm  thee  with  this  stick, 
And  make  thy  weapon  drop. 

Mir  a.  Beseech  you,  father! 

Pro.  Hence;  hang  not  on  my  garments. 

Mir  A.  Sir,  have  pity; 

I'll  be  his  surety.     • 

Pro.  Silence :  one  word  more 

Shall  make  me  chide  thee,  if  not  hate  thee.   What! 
An  advocate  for  an  impostor?  hush! 
Thou  think'st,  there  are  no  more  such  shapes  as  he, 
Having  seen  but  him  and  Caliban:  Foolish  wench! 
To  the  most  of  men  this  is  a  Caliban, 
And  they  to  him  are  angels. 

Mira.  My  affections 

Are  then  most  humble ;  I  have  no  ambition 
To  see  a  goodlier  man. 

Pro.  Come  on;  obey:  \_To  Ferd. 


*  My  foot  my  tutor .']   So,  in  The  Mirrour  for  Magistrates, 
1587,  p.  103: 

"  What  honest  heart  would  not  conceive  disdayne, 
"  To  see  thefoote  surmount  above  the  head.'" 

Henderson. 
Again,  in  A'.  Lear,  Act  IV.  sc.  ii.  one  of  the  quartos  reads — 
"  My  foot  usurps  my  head.'* 
Thus  also  Pope,  Essay  on  Man,  I.  200: 

"  What,  if  the  foot,  ordain'd  the  dust  to  tread, 

"  Or  hand  to  toil,  aspir'd  to  be  the  head?"      Steevens. 

6  come  from  tin/  ward;]   Desist  from  any  hope  of  awing 

me  by  that  posture  of  defence.    Johnson. 

So,  in  K.  Henry  IV.  P.  I.  Falstaffsays: — "  Thou  know'st  my 
old  ward; — here  t  lay,  and  thus  I  bore  my  point."     Steevens. 


54  TEMPEST.  act  I. 

Thy  nerves  are  in  their  infancy  again,7 
And  have  no  vigour  in  them. 

Fer.  So  they  are: 

My  spirits,  as  in  a  dream,  are  all  bound  up.8 
My  father's  loss,  the  weakness  which  I  feel, 
The  wreck  of  all  my  friends,  or  this  man's  threats, 
To  whom  I  am  subdued,  are  but  light  to  me,9 
Might  I  but  through  my  prison  once  a  day 
Behold  this  maid:1  all  corners  else  o'  the  earth 
Let  liberty  make  use  of;  space  enough 
Have  I  in  such  a  prison. 

Pro.  It  works: — Come  on. — 

Thou  hast  done  well,  fine  Ariel! — Follow  me. — 

[To  Ferd.  and  Mm. 
Hark,  what  thou  else  shalt  do  me.        \_To  Ariel. 


7  Thy  nerves  are  in  their  infancy  again,']  Perhaps  Milton  had 
this  passage  in  his  mind,  when  he  wrote  the  following  line  in  his 
Masque  at  Ludlow  Castle: 

Thy  nerves  are  all  bound  up  in  alabaster.'*      Steevens. 

8  My  spirits,  as  in  a  dream,  are  all  bound  up.]  Alluding  to  a 
common  sensation  in  dreams ;  when  we  struggle,  but  with  a  total 
impuissance  in  our  endeavours,  to  run,  strike,  &c. 

Warburton. 

9  are  but  light  to  me,']  This  passage,  as  it  stands  at  pre- 
sent, with  all  allowance  for  poetical  licence,  cannot  be  reconciled 
to  grammar.  I  suspect  that  our  author  wrote — "  were  but  light 
to  me,"  in  the  sense  of — would  be. — In  the  preceding  line  the 
old  copy  reads — nor  this  man's  threats.  The  emendation  was 
made  by  Mr.  Steevens.     Malone. 

1  Might  I  but  through  my  prison  once  a  day 
Behold  this  maid:]  This  thought  seems  borrowed  from  The 
Knight's  Tale  of  Chaucer ;  v.  1230: 

"  For  elles  had  I  dwelt  with  Theseus 

"  Yfetered  in  his  prison  evermo. 

"  Than  had  I  ben  in  blisse,  and  not  in  wo. 

"  Only  the  sight  of  hire,  whom  that  I  serve, 

"  Though  that  I  never  hire  grace  may  deserve, 

"  Wold  have  sufficed  right  ynough  for  me."    Steevens. 


sc.  n.  TEMPEST.  55 

Mira.  Be  of  comfort; 

My  fathers  of  a  better  nature,  sir, 
Than  he  appears  by  speech;  this  is  unwonted, 
Which  now  came  from  him. 

Pro.  Thou  shalt  be  as  free 

As  mountain  winds:  but  then  exactly  do 
All  points  of  my  command. 

Ari.  To  the  syllable. 

Pro.  Come,  follow:  speak  not  for  him.  [Exeunt. 


ACT  II.     SCENE  I. 

Another  part  of  the  Island. 

Enter  Alonso,  Sebastian,  Antonio,  Gonzalo, 
Adrian,  Francisco,  and  others. 

Gox.  'Beseech  you,  sir,  be  merry:  you  have  cause 
(So  have  we  all)  of  joy;  for  our  escape 
Is  much  beyond  our  loss :  Our  hint  of  woe2 
Is  common ;  every  day,  some  sailor's  wife, 
The  masters  of  some  merchant,3  and  the  merchant, 


1  Our  hint  of  woe — ]   Hint  is  that  which  recalls  to  the 

memory.     The  cause  that  fills  our  minds  with  grief  is  common. 
Dr.  Warburton  reads — stint  of  woe.     Johnson. 

Hint  seems  to  mean  circumstance.  "  A  danger  from  which 
they  had  escaped  (says  Mr.  M.  Mason)  might  properly  be  called 
a  hint  of  woe.''*     Steevens. 

3  The  masters  of  some  merchant,  &c]  Thus  the  old  copy.  If 
the  passage  be  not  corrupt  (as  I  suspect  it  is)  we  must  suppose 
that  by  masters  our  author  means  the  owners  of  a  merchant's  ship, 
or  the  officers  to  whom  the  navigation  of  it  had  been  trusted. 


56  TEMPEST.  act  ii. 

Have  just  our  theme  of  woe:  but  for  the  miracle,4 
I  mean  our  preservation,  few  in  millions 
Can  speak  like  us:  then  wisely,  good  sir,  weigh 
Our  sorrow  with  our  comfort. 

Alox.  Pr'ythee,  peace. 

Seb.  He  receives  comfort  like  cold  porridge. 

Axt.  The  visitor5  will  not  give  him  o'er  so. 

Seb.  Look,  he's  winding  up  the  watch  of  his 
wit;  by  and  by  it  will  strike. 

Gox.  Sir, 

Seb.  One: Tell. 

Gox.  When   every  grief  is  entertain'd,  that's 
offer'd, 
Comes  to  the  entertainer — 

Seb.  A  dollar. 

Gox.  Dolour  comes  to  him,  indeed;6  you  have 
spoken  truer  than  you  purposed. 


I  suppose,  however,  that  our  author  wrote — 
"  The  mistress  of  some  merchant,"  &c. 
Mistress  was  anciently  spelt — maistresse  or  maistres.     Hence, 
perhaps,  arose  the  present  typographical  error.     See  Merchant 
of  Venice,  Act  IV.  sc.  i.     Steevens. 

*  Have  just  our  theme  of 'woe:  but  for  the  miracle.]  The  words 
— of  woe,  appear  to  me  as  an  idle  interpolation.  Three  lines 
before  we  have  "  our  hint  of  tuoe — ."     Steevens. 

4  The  visitor  —  ]  Why  Dr.  Warburton  should  change  visitor  to 
'riser,  for  adviser,  I  cannot  discover.  Gonzalo  gives  not  only 
advice  but  comfort,  and  is  therefore  properly  called  The  Visitor, 
like  others  who  visit  the  sick  or  distressed  to  give  them  consola- 
tion. In  some  of  the  Protestant  churches  there  is  a  kind  of 
officers  termed  consolators  for  the  sick.     Johnson. 

fi  Gon.  Dolour  comes  to  him,  indeed;']  The  same  quibble 
occurs  in  The  Tragedy  of  Hoffman,  163/  : 

"  And  his  reward  be  thirteen  hundred  dollars, 

"  For  he  hath  driven  dolour  from  our  heart."  Steevens. 


sc.  i.  TEMPEST.  57 

Seb.  You  have  taken  it  wiselier  than  I  meant 
you  should. 

Gox.  Therefore,  my  lord, — 

Axt.  Fye,  what  a  spendthrift  is  he  of  his  tongue  I 

Alox.  I  pr'ythee,  spare. 

Gox.  Well,  I  have  done:  But  yet — 

Seb.  He  will  be  talking. 

Axt.  Which  of  them,  he,  or  Adrian,  for  a  good 
wager,  first  begins  to  crow? 

Seb.  The  old  cock. 

Axt.  The  cockrel. 

Seb.  Done :  The  wasrer  ? 

Axt.  A  laughter. 

Seb.  A  match. 

Adr.  Though  this  island  seem  to  be  desert, — 

Seb.  Ha,  ha,  ha ! 

Axt.  So,  you've  pay'd.7 

Adr.  Uninhabitable,  and  almost  inaccessible, — 

Seb.  Yet, 


7  you've  pay*dJ]  Old  copy — yoifr  paid.     Corrected  by 

Mr.  Steevens.  To  pay  sometimes  signified — to  beat,  but  I  have 
never  met  with  it  in  a  metaphorical  sense ;  otherwise  I  should  have 
thought  the  reading  of  the  folio  right :  you  are  beaten  ;  you  have 
lost.     Ma  LONE. 

This  passage  scarcely  deserves  explanation ;  but  the  meaning 
is  this: 

Antonio  lays  a  wager  with  Sebastian,  that  Adrian  would  crow 
before  Gonzalo,  and  the  wager  was  a  laughter.  Adrian  speaks 
first,  so  Antonio  is  the  winner.  Sebastian  laughs  at  what  Adrian 
had  said,  and  Antonio  immediately  acknowledges  that  by  his 
laughing  he  has  paid  the  bet. 

The  old  copy  reads — you'r  paid,  which  will  answer  as  well, 
if  those  words  be  given  to  Sebastian  instead  of  Antonio. 

M.  Masok. 


58  TEMPEST.  act  n. 

Adr.  Yet — 

Ant.  He  could  not  miss  it. 

Adr.  It  must  needs  be  of  subtle,  tender,  and 
delicate  temperance.8 

Ant.  Temperance  was  a  delicate  wench.9 

Seb.  Ay,  and  a  subtle;  as  he  most  learnedly 
delivered. 

Adr.  The  air  breathes  upon  us  here  most  sweetly. 

Seb.  As  if  it  had  lungs,  and  rotten  ones. 

Ant.  Or,  as  'twere  perfumed  by  a  fen. 

Gon.  Here  is  every  thing  advantageous  to  life. 

Ant.  True;  save  means  to  live. 

Seb.  Of  that  there's  none,  or  little. 

Gon.  How  lush1  and  lusty  the  grass  looks?  how 
green  ? 

*  and  delicate  temperance.]     Temperance  here   means 

temperature.     Steevens. 

9  Temperance  ivas  a  delicate  wench."]  In  the  puritanical  times 
it  was  usual  to  christian  children  from  the  titles  of  religious  and 
moral  virtues. 

So  Taylor,  the  water-poet,  in  his  description  of  a  strumpet : 
"  Though  bad  they  be,  they  will  not  bate  an  ace, 
"  To  be  call'd  Prudence,  Temperance,  Faith,  or  Grace.'* 

Steevens. 

1  How  lush  &;c.~\  Lush,  i.  e.  of  a  dark  full  colour,  the  opposite 
to  pale  and  Jaint.     Sir  T.  Hanmer. 

The  words,  how  green?  which  immediately  follow,  might  have 
intimated  to  Sir  T.  Hanmer,  that  lush  here  signifies  rank,  and 
not  a  dark  full  colour.  In  Arthur  Golding's  translation  of  Julius 
Solinus,  printed  1587,  a  passage  occurs,  in  which  the  word  is 
explained. — "  Shrubbes  lushe  and  almost  like  a  grystle."  So, 
in  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream: 

"  Quite  over-canopied  with  lushious  woodbine." 

Henley. 

The  word  lush  has  not  yet  been  rightly  interpreted.  It  appears 
from  the  following  passage  in  Golding's  translation  of  Ovid, 
1587>  to  have  signifiedjWcy,  succulent: 


sc.  i.  TEMPEST.  59 

Ant.  The  ground,  indeed,  is  tawny. 

Seb.  With  an  eye  of  green  in't.2 

Ant.  He  misses  not  much. 

Seb.  No  ;  he  doth  but  mistake  the  truth  totally. 

Gon.  But  the  rarity  of  it  is  (which  is  indeed 
almost  beyond  credit) — 

Seb.  As  many  vouch'd  rarities  are. 

Gon.  That  our  garments,  being,  as  they  were, 
drenched  in  the  sea,  hold,  notwithstanding,  their 
freshness,  and  glosses;  being  rather  new  dy'd,  than 
stain' d  with  salt  water. 

Ant.  If  but  one  of  his  pockets  could  speak, 
would  it  not  say,  he  lies? 

Seb.  Ay,  or  very  falsely  pocket  up  his  report. 

Gon.  Methinks,  our  garments  are  now  as  fresh 
as  when  we  put  them  on  first  in  Africk,  at  the 


"  What?  seest  thou  not,  how  that  the  year,  as  representing  plaine 
"  The  age  ofman,departeshimself  in  quarters  foure:  first,  baine 
"  And  tender  in  the  spring  it  is,  even  like  a  sucking  babe, 
"  Then  greene  and  void  of  strength,  and  lush  and  Jbggy  is  the 

blade; 
"  And  cheers  the  husbandman  with  hope." 
Ovid's  lines  (Met.  XV.)  are  these: 

"  Quid?  non  in  species  succedere  quattuor  annum 
"  Aspicis,  aetatis  peragentem  imitamina  nostrae? 
"  Nam  tener  et  lactens,  puerique  simillimus  aevo, 
"  Vere  novo  est.     Tunc  herba  recens,  et  roboris  expers, 
"  Turget,  et  insolida  est,  et  spe  delectat  agrestem." 
Spenser  in  his  Shepheard's  Calender,  (Feb.)  applies  the  epi- 
thet lusty  to  green : 

"  With  leaves  engrain'd  in  lustie  green."     Malone. 

2  With  an  eye  of  green  in't."]  An  eye  is  a  small  shade  of  colour: 
"  Red,  with  an  eye  of  blue,  makes  a  purple."     Boyle. 

Again,  in  Fuller's  Church  History,  p.  23/,  xvii  Cent.  Book  XI: 
"  — some  cole-black  (all  eye  of  purple  being  put  out  therein) — ." 

Again,  in  Sandys's  Travels,  lib.  i :  "  — cloth  of  silver  tissued 
with  an  eye  of  green — ."     Steevens. 


GO  TEMPEST.  act  n. 

marriage  of  the  king's  fair  daughter  Claribel3  to 
the  king  of  Tunis. 

Seb.  'Twas  a  sweet  marriage,  and  we  prosper 
well  in  our  return. 

Adr.  Tunis  was  never  graced  before  with  such 
a  paragon  to  their  queen. 

Gon.  Not  since  Widow  Dido's  time. 

Ant.  Widow?   a  pox  o'that!    How  came  that 
widow  in?  Widow  Dido! 4 


3  Claribel  —  ]  Shakspeare  might  have  found  this  name  in 

the  bl.  1.  History  of  George  Lord  Faukonbridge,  a  pamphlet  that 
he  probably  read  when  he  was  writing  King  John.  Clarabel 
is  there  the  concubine  of  King  Richard  I.  and  the  mother  of 
Lord  Falconbridge.     Malone. 

4  Widow  Dido!']  The  name  of  a  widow  brings  to  their 

minds  their  own  shipwreck,  which  they  consider  as  having  made 
many  widows  in  Naples.     Johnson. 

Perhaps  our  author  remembered  "  An  inscription  for  the  statue 
of  Dido,"  copied  from  Ausonius,  and  inserted  in  Davison's  Poems : 

"  O  most  unhappy  Dido, 

"  Unhappy  wife,  and  more  unhappy  widow! 

"  Unhappy  in  thy  mate, 

"  And  in  thy  lover  more  unfortunate!"  &c. 
The  edition  from  whence  I  have  transcribed  these  lines  was 
printed  in  1621,  but  there  was  a  former  in  1608,  and  another 
some  years  before,  as  I  collect  from  the  following  passage  in  a 
letter  from  Mr.  John  Chamberlain  to  Mr.  Carleton,  July  8,  l6()2: 
"  It  seems  young  Davison  means  to  take  another  course,  and 
turn  poet,  for  he  hath  lately  set  oid  certain  sonnets  and  epigrams." 
Chamberlain's  Letters,  Vol.  I.  among  Dr.  Birch's  MSS.  in  the 
British  Museum.     Malone. 

A  ballad  of  Queen  Dido  is  in  the  Pepysian  collection,  and  is 
also  printed  in  Dr.  Percy's  Reliques.  It  appears  at  one  time  to  have 
been  a  great  favourite  with  the  common  people.  "  O  you  ale- 
knights,"  exclaims  an  ancient  writer,  "  you  that  devoure  the 
marrow  of  the  mault,  and  drinke  whole  ale-tubs  into  consump- 
tions; that  sing  Queen  Dido  over  a  cupp,  and  tell  strange 
newes  over  an  ale-pot,"  &c.  Jacke  of  Dover  his  quest  of  Inqui- 
rie,  or  his  privy  Search  for  the  veriest  Foole  in  England,  4to.  1604, 
sig.  F.     Ritson.  v«-<   -       -■ 


*.  /.  TEMPEST.  61 

Seb.  What  if  he  had  said,  widower  .ZEneas  too? 
good  lord,  how  you  take  it! 

Adr.  Widow  Dido,  said  you?   you   make  me 
study  of  that:  She  was  of  Carthage,  not  of  Tunis. 

Gox.  This  Tunis,  sir,  was  Carthage. 

Adr.  Carthage? 

Gox.  I  assure  you,  Carthage. 

Ant.  His  word  is  more  than  the  miraculous  harp.5 

Seb.  He  hath  rais'd  the  wall,  and  houses  too. 

Axt.  What  impossible  matter  will  he  make  easy 
next  ? 

Seb.  I  think  he  will  carry  this  island  home  in 
his  pocket,  and  give  it  his  son  for  an  apple. 

Axt.  And,  sowing  the  kernels  of  it  in  the  sea, 
bring  forth  more  islands. 

Gox.  Ay? 

Axt.  Why,  in  good  time. 

Gox.  Sir,  we  were  talking,  that  our  garments 
seem  now  as  fresh,  as  when  we  were  at  Tunis  at  the 
marriage  of  your  daughter,  who  is  now  queen. 

Axt.  And  the  rarest  that  e'er  came  there. 

Seb.  'Bate,  I  beseech  you,  widow  Dido. 

Axt.  O,  widow  Dido;  ay,  widow  Dido. 

Gox.  Is  not,  sir,  my  doublet  as  fresh  as  the  first 
day  I  wore  it?  I  mean,  in  a  sort. 

Axt.  That  sort  was  wrell  fish'd  for. 

Gox.  When  I  wore  it  at  your  daughter's  mar- 
riage? 


the  miraculous  JiarpJ]  Alluding  to  the  wonders  of  Am- 


phion's  music.     Ste£VEN8i 


62  TEMPEST.  act  ii 

Alon.  You  cram  these  words  into  mine  ears, 
against 
The  stomach  of  my  sense:6  'Would  I  had  never 
Married  my  daughter  there!  for,  coming  thence, 
My  son  is  lost;  and,  in  my  rate,  she  too, 
Who  is  so  far  from  Italy  remov'd, 
I  ne'er  again  shall  see  her.     O  thou  mine  heir 
Of  Naples  and  of  Milan,  what  strange  fish 
Hath  made  his  meal  on  thee! 

Fran.  Sir,  he  may  live; 

I  saw  him  beat  the  surges  under  him, 
And  ride  upon  their  backs ;  he  trod  the  water, 
Whose  enmity  he  flung  aside,  and  breasted 
The  surge  most  swoln  that  met  him:  his  bold  head 
'Bove  the  contentious  waves  he  kept,  and  oar'd 
Himself  with  his  good  arms  in  lusty  stroke 
To  the  shore,  that  o'er  his  wave-worn  basis  bow'd, 
As  stooping  to  relieve  him:  I  not  doubt, 
He  came  alive  to  land. 

Alok.  No,  no,  he's  gone. 

Seb.  Sir,youmay  thankyourself  for  this  greatloss ; 
That   would    not    bless    our    Europe   with    your 

daughter, 
But  rather  lose  her  to  an  African; 
WTiere  she,  at  least,  is  banish'd  from  your  eye, 
"Who  hath  cause  to  wet  the  grief  on't. 

Alon.  Pr'ythee,  peace. 

Seb.  You  were  kneel'd  to,  and  importun'd  other- 
wise 


6  The  stomach  of  my  sense:]  By  sense,  I  believe,  is  meant  both 
reason  and  natural  affection.     So,  in  Measure  for  Measure: 

"  Against  all  sense  do  you  importune  her." 
Mr.  M.  Mason,  however,  supposes  "  sense,  in  this  place,  means 
feeling."    Steevens. 


sc.  /.  TEMPEST.  63 

By  all  of  us ;  and  the  fair  soul  herself 
Weigh'd,  between  lothness  and  obedience,  at 
Which  end  o'  the  beam  she'd  bow.7    We  have  lost 

your  son, 
I  fear,  for  ever:  Milan  and  Naples  have 
More  widows  in  them  of  this  business*  making, 
Than  we  bring  men  to  comfort  them : 8  the  fault's 
Your  own. 

Alon.  So  is  the  dearest  of  the  loss. 

Gok.  My  lord  Sebastian, 

The  truth  you  speak  doth  lack  some  gentleness, 
And  time  to  speak  it  in :  you  rub  the  sore, 
When  you  should  bring  the  plaster. 

Seb.  Very  well. 

Ant.  And  most  chirurgeonly. 

Gox.  It  is  foul  weather  in  us  all,  good  sir, 
When  you  are  cloudy. 


7  Weigh'd,  between  lothness  and  obedience,  at 

Which  end  o*  the  beam  she'd  boiu.~\  Weigh'd  means  deliberated. 
It  is  used  in  nearly  the  same  sense  in  Love's  Labour  s  Lost,  and 
in  Hamlet.  The  old  copy  reads — should  bow.  Shoidd  was  pro- 
bably an  abbreviation  of  she  would,  the  mark  of  elision  being 
inadvertently  omitted  [sh'ould].  Thus  he  has  is  frequently  exhi- 
bited in  the  first  folio — h'as.  Mr.  Pope  corrected  the  passage 
thus:  "  at  which  end  the  beam  should  bow."  But  omission  of 
any  word  in  the  old  copy,  without  substituting  another  in  it's 
place,  is  seldom  safe,  except  in  those  instances  where  the  re- 
peated word  appears  to  have  been  caught  by  the  compositor's 
eye  glancing  on  the  line  above,  or  below,  or  where  a  word  is 
printed  twice  in  the  same  line.     Malone. 

8  Than  xve  bring  men  to  comfort  them:']  It  does  not  clearly 
appear  whether  the  king  and  these  lords  thought  the  ship  lost. 
This  passage  seems  to  imply,  that  they  were  themselves  confident 
of  returning,  but  imagined  part  of  the  fleet  destroyed.  Why, 
indeed,  should  Sebastian  plot  against  his  brother  in  the  following 
scene,  unless  he  knew  how  to  find  the  kingdom  which  he  was 
to  inherit?     Johnson. 


64  TEMPEST.  act  it. 

Seb.  Foul  weather? 

Ant.  Very  foul. 

Gon.  Had  I  plantation  of  this  isle,  my  lord, — 

Ant.  He'd  sow  it  with  nettle-seed. 

Seb.  Or  docks,  or  mallows. 

Gon.  And  were  the  king  of  it,  What  would  I  do? 

Seb.  'Scape  being  drunk,  for  want  of  wine. 

Gon.  I'  the  commonwealth   I  would  by  con- 
traries 
Execute  all  things :  for  no  kind  of  traffick 
Would  I  admit ;  no  name  of  magistrate ; 9 


-for  no  kind  of  traffick 


Would  I  admit;  no  name  of  magistrate;  <$r.]  Our  author 
has  here  closely  followed  a  passage  in  Montaigne's  Essaies, 
translated  by  John  Florio,  folio,  1003:  "  It  is  a  nation  (would 
I  answer  Plato)  that  hath  no  kind  of  traffcke,  no  knowledge  of 
letters,  no  intelligence  of  numbers,  no  name  of  magistrate,  nor 
of  politic  superioritie  ;  no  use  of  service,  of  riches,  or  of  povertie, 
no  contracts,  no  successions,  no~partitions,  no  occupation,  but 
idle;  no  respect  of  kindred  but  common ;  no  apparel  but  natural; 
no  use  of  xvine,  come,  or  metal.  The  very  words  that  import 
lying,  falshood,  treason,  dissimulations,  covetousness,  envie,  de- 
traction and  pardon,  were  never  heard  amongst  them." — This 
passage  was  pointed  out  by  Mr.  Capell,  who  knew  so  little  of 
his  author  as  to  suppose  that  Shakspeare  had  the  original  French 
before  him,  though  he  has  almost  literally  followed  Florio's 
translation. 

Montaigne  is  here  speaking  of  a  newly  discovered  country, 
which  he  calls  "  Antartick  France."  In  the  page  preceding 
that  already  quoted,  are  these  words :  "  The  other  testimonie  of 
antiquitie  to  which  some  will  refer  the  discoverie  is  in  Aristotle 
(if  at  least  that  little  book  of  unheard-of  wonders  be  his)  where 
he  reporteth  that  certain  Carthaginians  having  sailed  athwart  the 
Atlanticke  sea,  without  the  strait  of  Gibraltar,  discovered  a  great 
fertil  Island,  all  replenished  with  goodly  woods,  and  deepe 
rivers,  farre  distant  from  any  land." 

Whoever  shall  take  the  trouble  to  turn  to  the  old  translation 
here  quoted,  will,  I  think,  be  of  opinion,  that  in  whatsoever 


sc.  I.  TEMPEST.  65 

Letters  should  not  be  known ;  no  use  of  service, 
Of  riches  or  of  poverty;  no  contracts, 
Successions;  bound  of  land,  tilth,  vineyard,  none: l 


novel  our  author  might  have  found  the  fable  of  The  Tempest,  he 
was  led  by  the  perusal  of  this  book  to  make  the  scene  of  it  an 
unfrequented  island.  The  title  of  the  chapter,  which  is — "  Of 
the  Canniballes," — evidently  furnished  him  with  the  name  of  one 
of  his  characters.  In  his  time  almost  every  proper  name  was 
twisted  into  an  anagram.  Thus,  "  /  moyl  in  law,"  was  the 
anagram  of  the  laborious  William  Noy,  Attorney  General  to 
Charles  I.  By  inverting  this  process,  and  transposing  the  letters 
of  the  word  Canibal,  Shakspeare  (as  Dr.  Farmer  long  since 
observed)  formed  the  name  of  Caliban.     Malone. 

1  Letters  should  not  be  knoivn;  no  use  of  service, 
Of  riches  or  of  poverty  ;   no  contracts, 

Successions;  bound  of  land,  tilth,  vineyard,  none:']  The 
words  already  quoted  from  Florio's  Translation  (as  Dr.  Farmer 
observes  to  me)  instruct  us  to  regulate  our  author's  metre  as  it 
is  now  exhibited  in  the  text. 

Probably  Shakspeare  first  wrote  (in  the  room  of  partition, 
which  did  not  suit  the  structure  of  his  verse)  bourn;  but  recol- 
lecting that  one  of  its  significations  was  a  rivulet,  and  that  his 
island  would  have  fared  ill  without  fresh  water,  he  changed 
bourn  to  bound  of  land,  a.  phrase  that  could  not  be  misunderstood. 
At  the  same  time  he  might  have  forgot  to  strike  out  bourn,  his 
original  word,  which  is  now  rejected ;  for  if  not  used  for  a  brook, 
it  would  have  exactly  the  same  meaning  as  bound  of  land.  There 
is  therefore  no  need  of  the  dissyllabical  assistance  recommended 
in  the  following  note.     Steevens. 

And  use  of  service,  none;  contract,  succession, 
Bourn,  boiind  of  land,  tilth,  vineyard,  none."]  The  defective 
metre  of  the  second  of  these  lines  affords  a  ground  for  believing 
that  some  word  was  omitted  at  the  press.  Many  of  the  defects 
however  in  our  author's  metre  have  arisen  from  the  words  of  one 
line  being  transferred  to  another.  In  the  present  instance  the 
preceding  line  is  redundant.  Perhaps  the  words  here,  as  in 
many  other  passages,  have  been  shuffled  out  of  their  places. 
We  might  read — 

And  use  of  service,  none;  succession, 
Contract,  bourn,  bound  of  land,  tilth,  vineyard,  none. 
— succession  being  often  used  by  Shakspeare  as  a  quadrisyllable. 
It  must  however  be  owned,  that  in  the  passage  in  Montaigne's 
VOL.  IV.  F 


66  TEMPEST,  act  if. 

No  use  of  metal,  com,  or  wine,  or  oil: 
No  occupation;  all  men  idle,  all; 
And  women  too;  but  innocent  and  pure: 
No  sovereignty: — 

Seb.  And  yet  he  would  be  king  on't. 

Ant.  The  latter  end  of  his  commonwealth  for- 
gets the  beginning.2 

Gon.  All  things  in  common  nature  should  pro- 
duce 
Without  sweat  or  endeavour:  treason,  felony, 
Sword,  pike,  knife,  gun,  or  need  of  any  engine,3 
Would  I  not  have;  but  nature  should  bring  forth, 
Of  its  own  kind,  all  foizon,4  all  abundance, 
To  feed  my  innocent  people. 


Essays  the  words  contract  and  succession  are  arranged  in  the 
same  manner  as  in  the  first  folio. 

If  the  error  did  not  happen  in  this  way,  bourn  might  have 
been  used  as  a  dissyllable,  and  the  word  omitted  at  the  press 
might  have  been  none : 


contract,  succession, 

None;  bourn,  bound  of  land,  tilth,  vineyard,  none. 

,Malone. 

*  The  latter  end  of  his  commonwealth  forgets  the  beginning,'] 
All  this  dialogue  is  a  fine  satire  on  the  Utopian  treatises  of 
government,  and  the  impracticable  inconsistent  schemes  therein 
recommended.     Warburton. 

3  any  engine,]   An  engine  is  the  rack.     So,  in  K.  Lear: 

" like  an  engine,  wrench'd  my  frame  of  nature 

"  From  the  fix'd  place." 

It  may,  however,  be  used  here  in  its  common  signification  of 
instrument  of  war,  or  military  machine.     Steevens. 

*  all  foizon,]  Foison,  or  foizon,  signifies  plenty,  ubertas; 

not  moisture,  or  juice  of  grass,  as  Mr.  Pope  says.     Edwards. 

So,  in  Warner's  Albion's  England,  1602,  B.  XIII.  ch.  78: 
"  Union,  in  breese,  isfoysonous,  and  discorde  works  decay.'* 

Mr.  Pope,  however,  is  not  entirely  mistaken,  as foison,  oxjizon, 
sometimes  bears  the  meaning  which  he  has  affixed  to  it.  See 
Ray's  Collection  of  South  and  East  Country  words.   Steevens. 


ac.  i.  TEMPEST.  C7 

Seb.  No  marrying  'mong  his  subjects? 

Axt.  None,  man ;  all  idle ;  whores,  and  knaves. 

Gox.  I  would  with  such  perfection  govern,  sir, 
To  excel  the  golden  age.5 

Seb.  'Save  his  majesty! 

Axt.  Long  live  Gonzalo! 

Gox.  And,  do  you  mark  me,  sir?— 

Alox.  Pr'ythee,  no  more:  thou  dost  talk  no- 
thing to  me. 

Gox.  I  do  well  believe  your  highness;  and  did 
it  to  minister  occasion  to  these  gentlemen,  who  are 
of  such  sensible  and  nimble  lungs,  that  they  always 
use  to  laugh  at  nothing. 

Axt.  'Twas  you  we  laugh'd  at. 

Gox.  Who,  in  this  kind  of  merry  fooling,  am 
nothing  to  you:  so  you  may  continue,  and  laugh 
at  nothing  still. 

Axt.  What  a  blow  was  there  given? 

Seb.  An  it  had  not  fallen  flat-long. 


nature  should  bring  forth, 

Of  its  own  kind,  allfoizon,  all  abundance, 

To  feed  my  innocent  people.]  "  And  if  notwithstanding,  in 
divers  fruits  of  those  countries  that  were  never  tilled,  we  shall 
find  that  in  respect  of  our's  they  are  most  excellent,  and  as  delicate 
unto  our  taste,  there  is  no  reason  Art  should  gain  the  point  of 
our  great  and  puissant  mother,  Nature."  Montaigne's  Essaies, 
ubi  sup.     Malone. 

s  I  would  ivith  such  perfection  govern,  sir, 
To  excel  the  golden  age.]  So  Montaigne,  ubi  supra:  "  Me 
seemeth  that  what  in  those  [newly  discovered]  nations  we  see  by 
experience,  doth  not  only  exceed  all  the  pictures  wherewith 
licentious  poe sic  hath  proudly  imbelli-hed  the  golden  age,  and 
all  her  quaint  inventions  to  fain  a  happy  condition  of  man,  but 
also  the  conception  and  desire  of  philosophy."     Malone. 

F  2 


68  TEMPEST.  act  n. 

Gon.  You  are  gentlemen  of  brave  mettle;6  you 
would  lift  the  moon  out  of  her  sphere,  if  she  would 
continue  in  it  five  weeks  without  changing. 

Enter  Ariel  invisible,  playing  solemn  musick.1 

Seb.  We  would  so,  and  then  go  a  bat-fowling. 

Ant.  Nay,  good  my  lord,  be  not  angry. 

Gon.  No,  I  warrant  you;  I  will  not  adventure 
my  discretion  so  weakly.  Will  you  laugh  me  asleep, 
for  I  am  very  heavy? 

Ant.  Go  sleep,  and  hear  us. 

\_All  sleep  but  Alon.  See.  and  Ant. 

Alon.  What,  all  so  soon  asleep!  I  wish  mine 

eyes 
Would,  with  themselves,  shut  up  my  thoughts :  I 

find, 
They  are  inclin'd  to  do  so. 

Seb.  Please  you,  sir, 

Do  not  omit  the  heavy  offer  of  it: 
It  seldom  visits  sorrow;  when  it  doth, 
It  is  a  comforter. 

Ant.  We  two,  my  lord, 

Will  guard  your  person,  while  you  take  your  rest, 
And  watch  your  safety. 


6  of  brave  mettle ;]  The  old  copy  has — metal.     The  two 

words  are  frequently  confounded  in  the  first  folio.  The  epithet, 
brave,  shews  clearly,  that  the  word  now  placed  in  the  text  was 
intended  by  our  author.     Malone. 

7  Enter  Ariel,  8$c.  playing  solemn  music.']  This  stage-direction 
does  not  mean  to  tell  us  that  Ariel  himself  was  the  Jidicen;  but 
that  solemn  music  attended  his  appearance,  was  an  accompani- 
ment to  his  entry.     Steevens. 


sc.  I.  TEMPEST.  69 

Alon.  Thank  you:  Wond'rous  heavy. — 

[Alonso  sleeps.     Edit  Ariel. 

Seb.  What  a  strange  drowsiness  possesses  them  ? 

Ant.  It  is  the  quality  o*  the  climate. 

Seb.  Why 

Doth  it  not  then  our  eye-lids  sink?  I  find  not 
Myself  dispos'd  to  sleep. 

Ant.  Nor  I;  my  spirits  are  nimble. 

They  fell  together  all,  as  by  consent; 
They  dropp'd,   as   by  a   thunder-stroke.      What 

might, 
Worthy  Sebastian  ? — O,  what  might? — No  more : — 
And  yet,  methinks,  I  see  it  in  thy  face, 
What  thou  should'st  be:  the  occasion  speaks  thee; 

and 
My  strong  imagination  sees  a  crown 
Dropping  upon  thy  head. 

Seb.  What,  art  thou  waking? 

Ant.  Do  you  not  hear  me  speak? 

Seb.  I  do;  and,  surely, 

It  is  a  sleepy  language;  and  thou  speak'st 
Out  of  thy  sleep:  What  is  it  thou  didst  say? 
This  is  a  strange  repose,  to  be  asleep 
With  eyes  wide  open ;  standing,  speaking,  moving, 
And  yet  so  fast  asleep. 

Ant.  Noble  Sebastian, 

Thou  let'st  thy  fortune  sleep — die  rather;  wink'st 
Whiles  thou  art  waking. 

Seb.  Thou  dost  snore  distinctly; 

There's  meaning  in  thy  snores. 

Ant.  I  am  more  serious  than  my  custom:  you 
Must  be  so  too,  if  heed  me ;  which  to  do, 


70  TEMPEST.  act  iu 

Trebles  thee  o'er.8 

Seb.  Well ;  I  am  standing  water. 

Ant.  I'll  teach  you  how  to  flow. 

Seb.  Do  so:  to  ebb, 

Hereditary  sloth  instructs  me. 

Ant.  O, 

If  you  but  knew,  how  you  the  purpose  cherish, 
Whiles  thus  you  mock  it!  how,  in  stripping  it, 
You  more  invest  it!9  Ebbing  men,  indeed, 

*  /  am  more  serious  than  my  custom  :  you 
Must  be  so  too,  if  heed  me;  which  to  do, 
Trebles  thee  o'er.]  This  passage  is  represented  to  me  as  an 
obscure  one.  The  meaning  of  it  seems  to  be — You  must  put  on 
more  than  your  usual  seriousness,  if  you  are  disposed  to  pay  a 
proper  attention  to  my  proposal ;  which  attention  if  you  bestow, 
it  will  in  the  end  make  you  thrice  what  you  are.  Sebastian  is 
already  brother  to  the  throne;  but,  being  made  a  king  by 
Antonio's  contrivance,  would  be  (according  to  our  author's  idea 
of  greatness )  thrice  the  man  he  was  before.  In  this  sense  he 
would  be  trebled  o'er.     So,  in  Pericles,  WOQ: 

" the  master  calls, 

"  And  trebles  the  confusion." 
Again,  in  The  Two  Noble  Kinsmen,  1634: 

" thirds  his  own  worth."     Steevens. 

Again,  in  the  Merchant  of  Venice: 

" Yet,  for  you, 

"  I  would  be  trebled  twenty  times  myself."     Malone. 

9  If  you  but  knew,  how  you  the  purpose  cherish, 
Whiles  thus  you  mock  it !  how,  in  stripping  it, 
You  more  invest  it!']  A  judicious  critic  in  The  Edinburgh  Ma- 
gazine for  Nov.  1/8(5,  offers  the  following  illustration  of  this 
obscure  passage.  "  Sebastian  introduces  the  simile  of  water.  It 
is  taken  up  by  Antonio,  who  says  he  will  teach  his  stagnant  water 
to  flow.  '  — It  has  already  learned  to  ebb,'  says  Sebastian.  To 
which  Antonio  replies,  *  0  if  you  but  knew  how  much  even  that 
metaphor,  which  you  use  in  jest,  encourages  to  the  design  which 
I  hint  at ;  how  in  stripping  the  words  of  their  common  meaning, 
and  using  them  figuratively,  you  adapt  them  to  your  own 
situation .'"     Steevens. 


sc.  i.  TEMPEST.  71 

Most  often  do  so  near  the  bottom  run, 
By  their  own  fear,  or  sloth. 

Seb.  Pr'ythee,  say  on: 

The  setting  of  thine  eye,  and  cheek,  proclaim 
A  matter  from  thee;  and  a  birth,  indeed, 
Which  throes  thee  much  to  yield. 

Ant.  Thus,  sir:  - 

Although  this  lord  of  weak  remembrance,1  this 
(Who  shall  be  of  as  little  memory, 
When  he  is  earth'd,)  hath  here  almost  persuaded 
(For  he's  a  spirit  of  persuasion  only,) 
The  king,  his  son's  alive;  'tis  as  impossible 
That  he's  undrown'd,  as  he  that  sleeps  here,  swims.5 


1  this  lord  of  weak  remembrance,]  This  lord,  who,  being 

now  in  his  dotage,  has  outlived  his  faculty  of  remembering ;  and 
who,  once  laid  in  the  ground,  shall  be  as  little  remembered  him- 
self, as  he  can  now  remember  other  things.     John&on. 

*   hath  here  almost  persuaded, 

(For  he's  a  spirit  of  persuasion,  only 
Professes  to  persuade)  the  king,  his  so?i's  alive; 
*Tis  as  impossible  that  he's  undroivn'd, 
As  he,  that  sleeps  here,  swims.~\  Of  this  entangled  sentence  I 
can  draw  no  sense  from  the  present  reading,  and  therefore  imagine 
that  the  author  gave  it  thus: 

For  he,  a  spirit  of  persuasion,  only 
Professes  to  persuade  the  king,  his  son's  alive; 
Of  which  the  meaning  may  be  either,  that  he  alone,  who  is  a 
spirit  of  persuasion,  professes  to  persuade  the  king;  or  that,  He 
only  professes  to  persuade,  that  is,  without  being  so  persuaded 
himself,  he  makes  a  show  of  persuading  the  king.     Johnson. 

The  meaning  may  be — He  is  a  mere  rhetorician,  one  who 
professes  the  art  of  persuasion,  and  nothing  else ;  i.  e.  he  pro- 
fesses to  persuade  another  to  believe  that  of  which  he  himself  is 
not  convinced;  he  is  content  to  be  plausible,  and  has  no  further 
aim.  So,  (as  Mr.  Malone  observes,)  in  Troilus  and  Cressida : 
u  —  why  he'll  answer  nobody,  he  professes  not  answering." 

Steevens. 

The  obscurity  of  this  passage  arises  from  a  misconception  of  the 
word  he's,  which  is  not  an  abbreviation  of  he  is,  but  of  he  has; 


72  TEMPEST.  act  n. 

Seb.  I  have  no  hope 
That  lie's  undrown'd. 

Ant.  O,  out  of  that  no  hope, 


anil  partly  from  the  omission  of  the  pronoun  who,  before  the  word 
professes,  by  a  common  poetical  ellipsis.  Supply  that  deficiency, 
and  the  sentence  will  run  thus: — 

"  Although  this  lord  of  weak  remembrance 

" hath  here  almost  persuaded 

"  For  he  has  a  spirit  of  persuasion,  who,  only 
"  Professes  to  persuade,  the  king  his  son's  alive;" — 
And  the  meaning  is  clearly  this. — This  old  lord,  though  a  mere 
dotard,  has  almost  persuaded  the  king  that  his  son  is  alive;  for 
he  is  so  willing  to  believe  it,  that  any  man  who  undertakes  to 
persuade  him  of  it,  has  the  powers  of  persuasion,  and  succeeds 
in  the  attempt. 

We  find  a  similar  expression  in  The  First  Part  of  Henry  IV. 
When  Poins  undertakes  to  engage  the  Prince  to  make  one  of 
the  party  to  Gads-hill,  Falstaff  says : 

"  Well!  may'st  thou  have  the  spirit  of  persuasion,  and  he  the 
ears  of  profiting !  that  what  thou  speakest  may  move,  and  what 
he  hears  may  be  believed!"     M.  Mason. 

The  light  Mr.  M.  Mason's  conjecture  has  thrown  on  this  pass- 
age, I  think,  enables  me  to  discover  and  remedy  the  defect  in  it. 

I  cannot  help  regarding  the  words — "professes  to  persuade''' — ■ 
as  a  mere  gloss  or  paraphrase  on  "  — he  has  a  spirit  of  persua- 
sion." This  explanatory  sentence,  being  written  in  the  margin 
of  an  actor's  part,  or  playhouse  copy,  was  afterwards  injudiciously 
incorporated  with  our  author's  text.  Read  the  passage  (as  it 
now  stands  in  the  text)  without  these  words,  and  nothing  is 
wanting  to  its  sense  or  metre. 

On  the  contrary,  the  insertion  of  the  words  I  have  excluded, 
by  lengthening  the  parenthesis,  obscures  the  meaning  of  the 
speaker,  and,  at  the  same  time,  produces  redundancy  of  measure. 

Irregularity  of  metre  ought  always  to  excite  suspicions  of  omis- 
sion or  interpolation.  Where  somewhat  has  been  omitted,  through 
chance  or  design,  a  line  is  occasionally  formed  by  the  junction  of 
hemistichs  previously  unfitted  to  each  other.  Such  a  line  will 
naturally  exceed  the  established  proportion  of  feet;  and  when 
marginal  observations  are  crept  into  the  text,  they  will  have  just 
such  aukward  effects  as  I  conceive  to  have  been  produced  by  one 
of  them  in  the  present  instance. 

"  Perhaps  ( says  that  excellent  scholar  and  perspicacious  critic 
Mr.  Porson,  in  his  6th  Letter  to  Archdeacon  Travis)  you  think 


sc.  i.  TEMPEST.  73 

What  great  hope  have  you !  no  hope,  that  way,  is 
Another  way  so  high  an  hope,  that  even 
Ambition  cannot  pierce  a  wink  beyond,3 
But  doubts  discovery  there.    Will  you  grant,  with 

me, 
That  Ferdinand  is  drown'd? 

Seb.  He's  gone. 

Ant.  Then,  tell  me, 

Who's  the  next  heir  of  Naples? 

Seb.  Claribel. 

Ant.  She  that  is  queen  of  Tunis;  she  that  dwells 
Ten  leagues  beyond  man's  life;4  she  that  from 

Naples 
Can  have  no  note,5  unless  the  sun  were  post, 

it  an  affected  and  absurd  idea  that  a  marginal  note  can  ever  creep 
into  the  text:  yet  I  hope  you  are  not  so  ignorant  as  not  to  know- 
that  this  has  actually  happened,  not  merely  in  hundreds  or  thou- 
sands, but  in  millions  of  places,"  &c.  &c. — 

"  From  this  known  propensity  of  transcribers  to  turn  every 

thing  into  the  text  which  they  found  written  in  the  margin  of 

their  MSS.  or  between  the  lines,  so  many  interpolations  have 

proceeded,  that  at  present  the  surest  canon  of  criticism  is,  Prce- 

feratur  lectio  brevior^  P.  14  9,  150. 

Though  I  once  expressed  a  different  opinion,  I  am  now  well 
convinced  that  the  metre  of  Shakspeare's  plays  had  originally  no 
other  irregularity  than  was  occasioned  by  an  accidental  use  of 
hemistichs.  When  we  find  the  smoothest  series  of  lines  among 
our  earliest  dramatic  writers  (who  could  fairly  boast  of  no  other 
requisites  for  poetry )  are  we  to  expect  less  polished  versification 
from  Shakspeare?     Steevens. 

J  a  ivink  beyond,]  That  this  is  the  utmost  extent  of  the 

prospect  of  ambition,  the  point  where  the  eye  can  pass  no  farther, 
and  where  objects  lose  their  distinctness,  so  that  what  is  there  dis- 
covered is  faint,  obscure,  and  doubtful.     Johnson. 

4  bei/ond  man's  life;']  i.e.  at  a  greater  distance  than  the 

life  of  man  is  long  enough  to  reach.     Steevens. 

6  she  that  from  Naples 

Can  have  no  note,  #c.]   Nate  (as  Mr.  Malone  observes)  is 
notice,  or  inj'ormation. 


74  TEMPEST.  act  n. 

(The  man  i*  the  moon's  too  slow,)  till  new-born 

chins 
Be  rough  and  razorable:  she,  from  whom6 
We  were  all  sea-swallow'd,  though  some  cast  again;7 
And,  by  that,  destin'd8  to  perform  an  act, 
Whereof  what's  past  is  prologue;  what  to  come, 
In  yours  and  my  discharge.9 

Seb.  What  stuff  is  this?— How  say  you? 

'Tis  true,  my  brother's  daughter's  queen  of  Tunis; 
So  is  she  heir  of  Naples ;  'twixt  which  regions 
There  is  some  space. 

Ant.  A  space  whose  every  cubit 

Seems  to  cry  out,  How  shall  that  Claribel 
Measure  us  back  to  Naples? — Keep  in  Tunis,1 


Shakspeare's  great  ignorance  of  geography  is  not  more  conspi- 
cuous in  any  instance  than  in  this,  where  he  supposes  Tunis  and 
Naples  to  have  been  at  such  an  immeasurable  distance  from  each 
other.  He  may,  however,  be  countenanced  by  Apollonius  Rho- 
dius,  who  says,  that  both  the  Rhone  and  Po  meet  in  one,  and 
discharge  themselves  into  the  gulph  of  Venice;  and  by  JEschylus, 
who  has  placed  the  river  Eridanus  in  Spain.     Steevens. 

6  —  she,  from  whom — ]  i.  e.  in  coming  from  whom.  The 
old  copy  has — she  that  from,  &c.  which  cannot  be  right.  The 
compositor's  eye  probably  glanced  on  a  preceding  line,  "  she  that 
from  Naples — ."     The  emendation  was  made  by  Mr.  Rowe. 

Malone. 

7  though  some  cast  again;]   Cast  is  here  used  in  the 

same  sense  as  in  Macbeth,  Act.  II.  sc.  iii:  "  —  though  he  took  my 
legs  from  me,  I  made  a  shift  to  cast  him."     Steevens. 

8  And,  by  that,  destin'd  —  ]  It  is  a  common  plea  of  wicked- 
ness to  call  temptation  destiny.     Johnson. 

The  late  Dr.  Musgrave  very  reasonably  proposed  to  substitute 
— destinW  for— destiny.  As  the  construction  of  the  passage  is 
made  easier  by  this  slight  change,  I  have  adopted  it.   Steevens. 

9  In  yours  and  my  discharge.']  i,  e.  depends  on  what  you  and 
I  are  to  perform.     Steevens. 

1  keep  in  Tunis,"]  There  is  in  this  passage  a  propriety 

lost,  which  a  slight  alteration  will  restore: 


sc.  I.  TEMPEST.  V5 

And  let  Sebastian  wake ! — Say,  this  were  death 
That  now  hath  seiz'd  them;  why,  they  were  no 

worse 
Than  now  they  are :  There  be,  that  can  rule  Naples, 
As  well  as  he  that  sleeps;  lords,  that  can  prate 
As  amply,  and  unnecessarily, 
As  this  Gonzalo;  I  myself  could  make 
A  chough2  of  as  deep  chat.     O,  that  you  bore 
The  mind  that  I  do!  what  a  sleep  were  this 
For  your  advancement!  Do  you  understand  me? 

Seb.  Methinks,  I  do. 

Ant.  And  how  does  your  content 

Tender  your  own  good  fortune? 

Seb.  I  remember, 

You  did  supplant  your  brother  Prospero. 

AbT.  True: 

And,  look,  how  well  my  garments  sit  upon  me; 
Much  feater  than  before :  My  brother's  servants 
Were  then  my  fellows,  now  they  are  my  men. 

Seb.  But,  for  your  conscience — 

Ant.  Ay,  sir;  where  lies  that?  if  it  were  a  kybe, 
'Twould  put  me  to  my  slipper;  But  I  feel  not 
This  deity  in  my  bosom :  twenty  consciences, 
That  stand  'twixt  me  and  Milan,  candied  be  they, 


Sleep  in  TuniSy 


"  And  let  Sebastian  wake.'"    Johnson-. 

The  old  reading  is  sufficiently  explicable.  Claribel  (says  he) 
keep  where  thou  art,  and  allow  Sebastian  time  to  awaken  those 
senses  by  the  help  nf  which  he  mat/  perceive  the  advantage  which 
now  presents  itself.     Steevens. 

*  A  chough  —  ]  Is  a  bird  of  the  jack-daw  kind.  So,  in  Mac- 
beth, Act  III.  sc.  iv: 

"  By  raagot-pies,  and  choughs,  and  rooks,"  &c. 

Steevens. 


76  TEMPEST.  act  n. 

And  melt,  ere  they  molest!3  Here  lies  your  brother, 

No  better  than  the  earth  he  lies  upon,4 

If  he  were  that  which  now  he's  like;  whom  I, 

With  this  obedient  steel,  three  inches  of  it, 

Can  lay  to  bed  for  ever:5  whiles  you,  doing  thus, 

To  the  perpetual  wink  for  aye6  might  put 

3  And  melt,  ere  they  molest /]  I  had  rather  read — 

Would  melt,  ere  they  molest. 
i.  e.  Twenty  consciences,  such  as  stand  between  me  and  my  hopes, 
though  they  were  congealed,  would  melt  before  they  could  molest  me, 
or  prevent  the  execution  of  my  purposes.     Johnson. 

Let  twenty  consciences  be  first  congealed,  and  then  dissolved, 
ere  they  molest  me,  or  prevent  me  from  executing  my  purposes. 

Malone. 

If  the  interpretation  of  Johnson  and  Malone  is  just,  and  is  cer- 
tainly as  intelligible  as  or;  but  I  can  see  no  reasonable  meaning  in 
this  interpretation.  It  amounts  to  nothing  more  as  thus  inter- 
preted, than  My  conscience  must  melt  and  become  softer  than  it  is 
before  it  molests  me;  which  is  an  insipidity  unworthy  of  the  Poet. 
I  would  read  "  Candy'd  be  they,  or  melt;"  and  the  expression 
then  has  spirit  and  propriety.  Had  I  twenty  consciences,  says 
Antonio,  they  might  be  hot  or  cold  for  me ;  they  should  not  give 
me  the  smallest  trouble. — Edinburgh  Magazine,  Nov.  1  yiQ. 

Steevens. 

4  No  better  than  the  earth  he  lies  upon,']  So,  in  Julius  Ccesar: 

" at  Pompey's  basis  lies  along, 

"  No  worthier  than  the  dust.'*     Steevens. 

4   If  he  were  that  which  now  he's  like;  whom  I, 
With  this  obedient  steel,  three  inches  of  it, 
Can  lay  to  bed  &c]  The  old  copy  reads — 

"  If  he  were  that  which  now  he's  like,  that's  dead; 
"  Whom  I  with  this  obedient  steel,  three  inches  of  it, 
"  Can  lay  to  bed,"  &c. 
The  words — "  that's  dead"  (as  Dr.  Farmer  observes  to  me)  are 
evidently  a  gloss,  or  marginal  note,  which  had  found  its  way  into 
the  text.     Such  a  supplement  is  useless  to  the  speaker's  meaning, 
and  one  of  the  verses  becomes  redundant  by  its  insertion. 

Steevens. 

?  for  aye  — ]  i.  e.  for  ever.     So,  in  K.  Lear: 

" I  am  come 

"  To  bid  my  king  and  master  aye  good  night."    Steevens. 


sc.  i.  TEMPEST.  77 

This  ancient  morsel,7  this  sir  Prudence,  who 
Should  not  upbraid  our  course.    For  all  the  rest, 
They'll  take  suggestion,  as  a  cat  laps  milk;8 
They'll  tell  the  clock  to  any  business  that 
We  say  befits  the  hour. 

Seb.  Thy  case,  dear  friend, 

Shall  be  my  precedent;  as  thou  got'st  Milan, 
I'll  come  by  Naples.    Draw  thy  sword :  one  stroke 
Shall  free  thee  from  the  tribute  which  thou  pay'st; 
And  I  the  king  shall  love  thee. 

Ant.  Draw  together: 

And  when  I  rear  my  hand,  do  you  the  like, 
To  fall  it  on  Gonzalo. 

Seb.  O,  but  one  word. 

\_They  converse  apart. 

7  This  ancient  morsel,]  For  morsel,  Dr.  Warburton  reads — 
ancient  moral,  very  elegantly  and  judiciously;  yet  I  know  not 
whether  the  author  might  not  write  morsel,  as  we  say  a  piece  of 
a  man.     Johnson. 

So,  in  Measure  for  Measure: 

"  How  doth  my  dear  morsel,  thy  mistress?"     Steevens. 

8  take  suggestion,]  i.  e.  Receive  any  hint  of  villainy. 

Johnson. 

So,  in  Macbeth,  Act  I.  sc.  iii: 

"  If  good,  why  do  I  yield  to  that  suggestion 
"  Whose  horrid  image,"  &c.     Steevens. 

They'll  take  suggestion,  as  a  cat  laps  milk;~]  That  is,  will 
adopt,  and  bear  witness  to,  any  tale  you  shall  invent;  you  may 
suborn  them  as  evidences  to  clear  you  from  all  suspicion  of  having 
murthered  the  king.  A  similar  signification  occurs  in  The  Tivo 
Gentlemen  of  Verona: 

"  Love  bad  me  swear,  and  love  bids  me  forswear: 

"  O  sweet  suggesting  love,  if  thou  hast  sinn'd, 

"  Teach  me,  thy  tempted  subject,  to  excuse  it."  Henley. 


73  TEMPEST.  act  n. 


Mustek.     Re-enter  Ariel,  invisible. 

Ari.  My  master  through  his  art  foresees  the 
danger 
That  these, his  friends,  are  in;  and  sends  me  forth, 
(For  else  his  project  dies,)  to  keep  them  living.9 

\_Sings  in  Gonzalo's  ear. 

9  to  keep  them  living.']  By  them,  as  the  text  now  stands, 

Gonzalo  and  Alonso  must  be  understood.  Dr.  Johnson  objects 
very  justly  to  this  passage.  "  As  it  stands,  says  he,  at  present, 
the  sense  is  this.  He  sees  your  danger,  and  will  therefore  save 
them.'"  He  therefore  would  read — "  That  these  his  friends  are  in." 
The  confusion  has,  I  think,  arisen  from  the  omission  of  a  single 
letter.     Our  author,  I  believe,  wrote — 

" and  sends  me  forth, 

"  For  else  his  projects  dies,  to  keep  them  living." 
i.  e.  he  has  sent  me  forth,  to  keep  his  projects  alive,  which  else 
wouhl  be  destroyed  by  the  murder  of  his  friend  Gonzalo. — The 
opposition  between  the  life  and  death  of  a  project  appears  to  me 
much  in  Shakspeare's  manner.  So,  in  Much  Ado  about  Nothing: 
"  What  life  is  in  that,  to  be  the  death  of  this  marriage?" — The 
plural  noun  joined  to  a  verb  in  the  singular  number,  is  to  be  met 
with  in  almost  every  page  of  the  first  folio.  So,  to  confine  my- 
self to  the  play  before  us,  edit.  1 623 : 

"  My  old  bones  akes." 
Again,  ibid: 

" At  this  hour 

"  Lies  at  my  mercy  all  my  enemies.^ 
Again,  ibid: 

"  His  tears  runs  down  his  beard — ." 


Again : 

"  What  cares  these  roarers  for  the  name  of  king." 
It  was  the  common  language  of  the  time ;  and  ought  to  be  cor- 
rected, as  indeed  it  generally  has  been  in  the  modern  editions  of 
our  author,  by  changing  the  number  of  the  verb.     Thus,  in  the 
present  instance  we  should  read — Eer  else  his  projects  die,  &c. 

Malone. 

I  have  received  Dr.  Johnson's  amendment.  Ariel,  finding  that 
Prospero  was  equally  solicitous  for  the  preservation  of  Alonso  and 
Gonzalo,  very  naturally  styles  them  both  his  friends,  without  ad- 
verting to  the  guilt  of  the  former.  Toward  the  success  of  Pros- 
pero's  design,  their  lives  were  alike  necessary. 


8c.  t.  TEMPEST.  79 

While  you  here  do  snoring  lie, 
Open-ey'd  conspiracy 

His  time  doth  take: 
If  of  life  you  keep  a  ca?-e9 
Shake  off  slumber,  and  beware: 

Awake  I  Awake  ! 

Axt.  Then  let  us  both  be  sudden. 

Gox.  Now,  good  angels,  preserve  the  king! 

[They  wake. 
Alox.  Why,  how  now,  ho!   awake!  Why  are 
you  drawn  ?x 
Wherefore  this  ghastly  looking  ? 

Gox.  What's  the  matter? 

Seb.  Whiles  we  stood  here  securing  your  repose, 
Even  now,  we  heard  a  hollow  burst  of  bellowing 
Like  bulls,  or  rather  lions;  did  it  not  wake  you? 
It  struck  mine  ear  most  terribly. 

Alox.  I  heard  nothing. 

Axt.  O,  'twas  a  din  to  fright  a  monster's  ear; 
To  make  an  earthquake !  sure  it  was  the  roar 
Of  a  whole  herd  of  lions. 

Alox.  Heard  you  this,  Gonzalo? 


Mr.  Henley  says  that  "  By  them  are  meant  Sebastian  and 
Antonio.  The  project  of*  Prospero,  which  depended  upon  Ariel's 
keeping  them  alive,  may  be  seen,  Act  III." 

The  Bong  of  Ariel,  however,  sufficiently  points  out  which  were 
the  immediate  objects  of  his  protection.  He  cannot  be  supposed 
to  have  any  reference  to  what  happens  in  the  last  scene  of  the 
next  Act.     Steevens. 

—  drawn?]  Having  your  swords  drawn.     So,  in  Romeo 


and  Juliet . 

"  What,  art  thou  dravrn  among  these  heartless  hinds?" 

Johnson. 


80  TEMPEST.  act  n. 

Gox.  Upon  mine  honour,  sir,  I  heard  a  humming, 
And  that  a  strange  one  too,  which  did  awake  me: 
I  shak'd  you,  sir,  and  cry'd;  as  mine  eyes  open'd, 
I  saw  their  weapons  drawn: — there  was  a  noise, 
That's  verity:  'Best  stand  upon  our  guard;2 
Or  that  we  quit  this  place :  let's  draw  our  weapons. 

Alon.  Lead  off  this  ground;    and  let's  make 
further  search 
For  my  poor  son. 

Gon.  Heavens  keep  him  from  these  beasts ! 

For  he  is,  sure,  i'  the  island. 

Alon.  Lead  away. 

Am.  Prosper o  my  lord  shall  know  what  I  have 

done :  \_Aside. 

So,  king,  go  safely  on  to  seek  thy  son.      \_Exeunt. 

2  That's  verity:  'Best  stand  upon  our  guard;']  The  old  copy 
reads — 

"  That's  verily:  'Tis  best  tve  stand  upon  our  guard.'* 
Mr.  Pope  very  properly  changed  verily  to  verity:  and  as  the  verse 
would  be  too  long  by  a  foot,  if  the  words  'tis  and  we  were  re- 
tained, I  have  discarded  them  in  favour  of  an  elliptical  phrase 
which  occurs  in  our  ancient  comedies,  as  well  as  in  our  author's 
Cymbeline,  Act  III.  sc.  iii: 

"  'Best  draw  my  sword;" 
i.  e.  it  were  best  to  draw  it.     Steevens. 


sc.  n.  TEMPEST.  81 

SCENE  II. 

Another  part  of  the  Island. 

Enter  Caliban,  uith  a  burden  of  wood. 

A  noise  of  thunder  heard. 

Cal.  All  the  infections  that  the  sun  sucks  up 
From  bogs,  fens,  flats,  on  Prosper  fall,  and  make 

him 
By  inch-meal  a  disease!   His  spirits  hear  me, 
And  yet  I  needs  must  curse.    But  they'll  nor  pinch, 
Fright  me  with  urchin  shows,  pitch  me  i'  the  mire, 
Nor  lead  me,  like  a  fire-brand,  in  the  dark 
Out  of  my  way,  unless  he  bid  them;  but 
For  every  trifle  are  they  set  upon  me: 
Sometime  like  apes,  that  moe3  and  chatter  at  me, 
And  after,  bite  me;  then  like  hedge-hogs,  which 
Lie  tumbling  in  my  bare-foot  way,  and  mount 
Their  pricks'  at  my  foot-fall;  sometime  am  I 
All  wound  with  adders,5  who,  with  cloven  tongues, 
Do  hiss  me  into  madness: — Lo!  now!  lo! 

3 that  moe  Sfc."]  i.  e.  make  mouths.  So,  in  the  old  version 

of  the  Psalms; 

" making  moes  at  me." 

Again,  in  the  Mystery  of  Candlemas-Day,  1512: 

"  And  make  them  to  lye  and  mowe  like  an  ape." 
Again,  ii>  Sidney's  Arcadia,  Book  III: 

"  Ape  great  thing  gave,  though  he  did  mowing  stand, 

"  The  instrument  of  instruments,  the  hand."   Steevens. 

So,  in  Nashe's  Apologie  of  Pierce  Penniless,  155)3:  "  —  found 
nohody  at  home  hut  an  ape,  that  sate  in  the  porch  and  made  mops 
and  mows  at  him."     Malone. 

4  Th eir  pricks — ]  i.  e.  prickles.     Steevens. 

\ wound  with  adders,']   Enwrapped  by  adders  ivound  or 

twisted  about  me.     Johnson. 

VOL.  IV.  G 


82  TEMPEST.  act  ii, 


Enter  Trinculo. 

Here  comes  a  spirit  of  his;  and  to  torment  me, 
For  bringing  wood  in  slowly:  I'll  fall  flat; 
Perchance,  he  will  not  mind  me. 

Trin.  Here's  neither  bush  nor  shrub,  to  bear  off 
any  weather  at  all,  and  another  storm  brewing;  I 
hear  it  sing  i'  the  wind:  yond'  same  black  cloud, 
yond'  huge  one,  looks  like  a  foul  bumbard6  that 
would  shed  his  liquor.  If  it  should  thunder,  as  it 
did  before,  I  know  not  where  to  hide  my  head: 
yond'  same  cloud  cannot  choose  but  fall  by  pail- 
fuls. — What  have  we  here?  a  man  or  a  fish?  Dead 
or  alive?  A  fish:  he  smells  like  a  fish;  a  very 
ancient  and  fish-like  smell;  a  kind  of,  not  of  the 


6 holes  like  afoul  bumbard  — ]  This  term  again  occurs  in 

The  First  Part  of  Henry  IV:  "  — that  swoln  parcel  of  dropsies, 
that  huge  bumbard  of  sack — "  And  again,  in  Henry  VIII. 
"  And  here  you  lie  baiting  of  bombards,  when  ye  should  do 
service."  By  these  several  passages,  'tis  plain,  the  word  meant 
a  large  vessel  for  holding  drink,  as  well  as  the  piece  of  ordnance 
so  called.     Theobald. 

Ben  Jonson,  in  his  Masque  if  Augurs,  confirms  the  conjecture 
of  Theobald:  "  The  poor  cattle  yonder  are  passing  away  the 
time  with  a  cheat  loaf,  and  a  bumbard  of  broken  beer." 

So,  again  in  The  Martyr *d  Soldier,  by  Shirley,  1(538: 
"  His  boots  as  wide  as  the  black-jacks, 
"  Or  bumbards,  toss'd  by  the  king's  guards." 
And  it  appears  from  a  passage  in  Ben  Jonson's  Masque  of  Love 
Restored,  that  a  bombard-man  was  one  who  carried  about  pro- 
visions.    "  I  am  to  deliver  into  the  buttery  so  many  firkins  of 
aurum  potabile,  as  it  delivers  out  bombards  of  bouge,"  &c. 

Again,  in  Decker's  Match  me  in  London,  1(531: 

"  You  are  ascended  up  to  what  you  are,  from  the  black-jack 
to  the  bumbard  distillation."     Steevens. 

Mr.  Upton  would  read — a.  full  bumbard.  See  a  note  on — 
"  I  thank  the  Gods,  I  am  fouls"  As  you  likeitt  Act  III.  sc.  iii. 

Malone. 


sc.  ii.  TEMPEST.  83 

newest,  Poor-John.  A  strange  fish!  Were  I  in 
England  now,  (as  once  I  was,)  and  had  but  this  fish 
painted,7  not  a  holiday  fool  there  but  would  give  a 
piece  of  silver:  there  would  this  monster  make  a 
man ; 8  any  strange  beast  there  makes  a  man :  when 
they  will  not  give  a  doit  to  relieve  a  lame  beggar, 
they  will  lay  out  ten  to  see  a  dead  Indian.9  Legg'd 

7 this  fish  painted,']    To   exhibit  fishes,  either   real  or 

imaginary,  was  very  common  about  the  time  of  our  author. 
So,  in  Jasper  Maine's  comedy  of  the  City  Match : 

"  Enter  Bright,  &c.  hanging  out  the  picture  of  a  strangefish." 

" This  is  the  fifth  Jish  now 

"  That  he  hath  shewn  thus." 

It  appears  from  the  books  at  Stationers'  Hall,  that  in  1604  was 
published,  "  A  strange  reporte  of  a  monstrous  fish,  that  appeared 
in  the  form  of  a  woman  from  her  waist  upward,  seene  in  the  sea." 

So  likewise,  in  Churchyard's  Prayse  and  Reporte  of  Maister 
Martyne  Forboisher's  Voyage  to  Meta  Incognita,  &c.  bl.  1.  12mo. 
15/8:  "  And  marchyng  backe,  they  found  a  straunge  Fish  dead, 
that  had  been  caste  from  the  sea  on  the  shore,  who  had  a 
boane  in  his  head  like  an  Unicorne,  which  they  brought  awaye 
and  presented  to  our  Prince,  when  thei  came  home." 

Steevens. 

8 make  a  man ;]  That  is,  make  a  man's  fortune.     So, 

in  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream:  "  — we  are  all  made  men.'" 

Johnson, 

Again,  in  Ram-alley,  or  Merry  Tricks,  l6ll: 

" She's  a  wench 

"  Was  born  to  make  us  all."     Steevens. 

9 a  dead  Indian.]   In  a  subsequent  speech  of  Stephano, 

we  have:  "  — savages  and  men  oflnde;"  in  Love's  Labour's  Lost, 
"  — a  rude  and  savage  man  of  Inde ;"  and  in  K.  Henry  VIII. 
the  porter  asks  the  mob,  if  they  think  "  some  strange  Indian,  Ike. 
a  come  to  court."  Perhaps  all  these  passages  allude  to  the  Indians 
brought  home  by  Sir  Martin  Frobisher. 

Queen  Elizabeth's  original  instructions  to  him  (MS.  now  be- 
fore me)  "  concerning  his  voyage  to  Cathaia,"  &c.  contain  the 
following  article: 

"  You  shall  not  bring  aboue  iii  or  iiii  persons  of  that  countrey, 
the  which  shall  be  of  diuers  ages,  and  shall  be  taken  in  such  sort 
as  you  may  best  avoyde  offence  of  that  people." 

In  the  year  15/7,  "  A  description  of  the  portrayturc  and  shape 

C2 


84  TEMPEST.  act  ii. 

like  a  man!  and  his  fins  like  arms!  Warm,  o*  my 
troth!  I  do  now  let  loose  my  opinion,1  hold  it  no 
longer;  this  is  no  fish,  but  an  islander,  that  hath 
lately  suffered  by  a  thunder-bolt.  \_Thunder.~]  Alas! 
the  storm  is  come  again :  my  best  way  is  to  creep 
under  his  gaberdine;2  there  is  no  other  shelter 
hereabout:  Misery  acquaints  a  man  with  strange 
bedfellows.3  I  will  here  shroud,  till  the  dregs  of 
the  storm  be  past. 

of  those  strange  kinde  of  people  which  the  wurthie  Mr.  Martin 
Fourbosier  brought  into  England  in  A°.  15/6,"  was  entered  on 
the  books  of  the  Stationers'  Company. 

By  Frobisher's  First  Voyage  for  the  Discoverie  qfCataya,  bl.  1. 
4to.  15/8,  the  fate  of  the  first  savage  taken  by  him  is  ascer- 
tained.— "  "Whereupon  when  he  founde  himself  in  captiuitie,  for 
very  choler  and  disdain  he  bit  his  tong  in  twaine  within  his 
mouth:  notwithstanding,  he  died  not  thereof,  but  lined  untill  he 
came  in  Englande,  and  then  he  died  of  colde  which  he  had  taken 
at  sea."     Steevens. 

1 let  loose  my  opinion,  &c]  So,  in  Love's  Labour's  Lost: 

"  — Now  you  will  be  my  purgation,  and  let  me  loose." 

Steevens. 

9 his  gaberdine:]  A  gaberdine  is  properly  the  coarse  frock 

or  outward  garment  of  a  peasant.  Spanish  Gaberdina.  So,  in 
Look  about  you,  16*00: 

"  I'll  conjure  his  gaberdine.'' 
The  gaberdine  is  still  worn  by  the  peasants  in  Sussex. 

Steevens. 

(t  here  however  means,  I  believe,  a  loose  felt  cloak.  Minsheu 
in  his  Dict.  l6l/,  calls  it  "  a  rough  Irish  mantle,  or  horseman's 
coat.  Gaban,  Span,  and  Fr. — Laena,  i.  e.  vestis  quae  super 
caetera  vestimenta  imponebatur."  See  also  Cotgrave's  Dict.  in 
v.  gaban,  and  galleverdine.     Malone. 

3 a  very  ancient  and  fish  like  smell — misery  acquaints  a  man 

with  strange  bedfellows.]  One  would  almost  think  that  Shak- 
speare  had  not  been  unacquainted  with  a  passage  in  the  fourth 
book  of  Homer's  Odyssey,  as  translated  by  Chapman : 

" The  sea-calves  savour  was 

"  So  passing  sowre  (they  still  being  bred  at  seas,) 

"  It  much  afflicted  us :  for  who  can  please 

"  To  lie  by  one  of  these  same  sea-bred  whales  ?" 

Steevens. 


sc.  ii.  TEMPEST.  85 


Enter  Stephano,  singing ;  a  bottle  in  his  hand. 

Ste.  /  shall  no  more  to  sea,  to  sea, 

Here  shall  I  dye  a-shore ; — 

This  is  a  very  scurvy  tune  to  sing  at  a  man's  funeral : 
Weil,  here's  my  comfort.  [Drinks. 

The  master,  the  swabber,  the  boatsxvain,  and  I, 

The  gunner,  and  his  mate, 
Lov'd  Mall,  Meg,  and  Marian,  and  Margery* 

But  none  of  us  car' d  for  Kate: 

For  she  had  a  tongue  with  a  tang, 

Would  cry  to  a  sailor,  Go,  hang: 
She  lov'd  not  the  savour  of  tar  nor  of  pitch, 
Yet  a  tailor  might  scratch  her  where-e 'er she  did  itch : 

Then  to  sea,  boys,  and  let  her  go  hang. 

This  is  a  scurvy  tune  too:  But  here's  my  comfort. 

[Drinks. 

Cal.  Do  not  torment  me:  O! 

Ste.  What's  the  matter?  Have  we  devils  here? 
Do  you  put  tricks  upon  us  with  savages,4  and  men 
of  Inde?  Ha!  I  have  not  'scap'd  drowning,  to  be 
afeard  now  of  your  four  legs;  for  it  hath  been  said, 
As  proper  a  man  as  ever  went  on  four  legs,  cannot 
make  him  give  ground:  and  it  shall  be  said  so 
again,  while  Stephano  breathes  at  nostrils. 

Cal.  The  spirit  torments  me:  O! 

Ste.  This  is  some  monster  of  the  isle,  with  four 


4 savages,]  The  folio  reads — sahage.^  and  rightly.   It  was 

the  spelling  and  pronunciation  of  the  time.     So,  in  Spenser's 
Fairy  Queen,  B.  VI.  c.  8,  St.  35  : 

"  There  dwelt  a  salvage  nation,"  &c.     Reed. 


S6  TEMPEST.  act  n. 

legs;  who  hath  got,  as  I  take  it,  an  ague:  Where 
the  devil  should  he  learn  our  language  ?  I  will  give 
him  some  relief,  if  it  be  but  for  that:  If  I  can  re- 
cover him,  and  keep  him  tame,  and  get  to  Naples 
with  him,  he's  a  present  for  any  emperor  that  ever 
trod  on  neat's-leather. 

Cal.  Do  not  torment  me,  pr'ythee; 
I'll  bring  my  wood  home  faster. 

-  Ste.  He's  in  his  fit  now;  and  does  not  talk  after 
the  wisest.  He  shall  taste  of  my  bottle:  if  he  have 
never  drunk  wine  afore,  it  will  go  near  to  remove 
his  fit:6  if  I  can  recover  him,  and  keep  him  tame, 
I  will  not  take  too  much6  for  him :  he  shall  pay  for 
him  that  hath  him,  and  that  soundly. 

Cal.  Thou  dost  me  yet  but  little  hurt ;  thou  wilt 
Anon,  I  know  it  by  thy  trembling:7 
Now  Prosper  works  upon  thee. 

b if  he  have  never  drunk  'wine  afore,  it  will  go  near  to  re- 
move his  Jit:']  This  is  no  impertinent  hint  to  those  who  indulge 
themselves  in  a  constant  use  of  wine.  When  it  is  necessary  for 
them  as  a  medicine,  it  produces  no  effect.     Steevens. 

6 too  much  — ]   Too  much  means,  any  sum,  ever  so  much. 

So,  in  the  Letters  from  the  Paston  Family,  Vol.  II.  p.  2\Q: 
"  And  ye  be  beholdyng  unto  my  Lady  for  hyr  good  wurde,  for 
sche  hath  never  preysyd  yowe  to  much."  i.  e.  though  she  has 
praised  you  much,  her  praise  is  not  above  your  merit. 

It  has,  however,  been  observed  to  me,  that  when  the  vulgar 
mean  to  ask  an  extravagant  price  for  any  thing,  they  say,  with  a 
laugh,  I  won't  make  him  pay  twice  for  it.  This  sense  sufficiently 
accommodates  itself  to  Trinculo's  expression.  Mr.  M.  Mason 
explains  the  passage  differently. — "  I  will  not  take  for  him  even 
more  than  he  is  worth."     Steevens. 

I  think  the  meaning  is,  Let  me  take  what  sum  I  will,  however 
great,  I  shall  not  take  too  much  for  him  ;  it  is  impossible  for  me 
to  sell  him  too  dear.     Malone. 

7 /  know  it  by  thy  trembling :]  This  tremor  is  always  re- 
presented as  the  effect  of  being  possessed  by  the  devil.  So,  in 
the  Comedy  of  Errors,  Act.  IV.  sc.  iv : 

"  Mark  how  he  trembles  in  his  extacy !"     Steevens. 


sc.  n.  TEMPEST.  87 


Ste.  Come  on  your  ways;  open  your  mouth: 
here  is  that  which  will  give  language  to  you,  cat;8 
open  your  mouth:  this  will  shake  your  shaking,  I 
can  tell  you,and  that  soundly:  you  cannot  tell  who's 
your  friend ;  open  your  chaps  again. 

Trix.  I  should  know  that  voice:  It  should  be — 
But  he  is  drowned;  and  these  are  devils:  O!  de- 
fend me! — 

Ste.  Four  legs,  and  two  voices;  a  most  delicate 
monster!  His  forward  voice9  now  is  to  speak  well 
of  his  friend ;  his  backward  voice  is  to  utter  foul 
speeches,  and  to  detract.  If  all  the  wine  in  my 
bottle  will    recover   him,  I  will    help  his  ague : 

Come, Amen!1  I  will  pour  some  in  thy  other 

mouth. 

Trin.  Stephano, — 

Ste.  Doth  thy  other  mouth  call  me?  Mercy! 
mercy!  This  is  a  devil,  and  no  monster:  I  will  leave 
him;  I  have  no  long  spoon.2 

Trin.  Stephano ! — if  thou  beest  Stephano,  touch 
me,  and  speak  to  me;  for  I  am  Trinculo; — be  not 
afeard, — thy  good  friend  Trinculo. 


cat ;]  Alluding  to  an  old  proverb,  that  good  liquor  ivill 


make  a  cat  speak.     Steevens. 

9  His  forward  voice  &c]  The  person  of  Fame  was  anciently 
described  in  this  manner.  So,  in  Penelope's  Web,  by  Greene, 
1601  :  "  Fame  hath  two  faces,  readie  as  well  to  back-bite  as  to 
flatter."     Steevens. 

Amen  /]  Means,  stop  your  draught :  come  to  a  con- 


clusion.    /  will  pour  some,  &c.     Steevens. 

2  /  have  no  lung  spoon.']  Alluding  to  the  proverb,  A  long  spoon 
to  eat  xuith  the  devil.     Steevens. 

See  Comedy  of  Errors,  Act  IV.  sc.  iii.  and  Chaucer's  Squiers 
Tale,  10,916  of  the  late  edit. 

"  Therefore  beho^eth  him  a  full  long  spoone, 
"  That  shall  etc  with  a  fend." Tyrwhitt. 


S8  TEMPEST.  act  ii. 

Ste.  If  thou  beest  Trinculo,  come  forth;  I'll 
pull  thee  by  the  lesser  legs:  if  any  be  Trinculo' s 
legs,  these  are  they.  Thou  art  very  Trinculo,  in- 
deed: How  cam'st  thou  to  be  the  siege  of  this 
moon-calf?3  Can  he  vent  Trinculos? 

Trin.  I  took  him  to  be  killed  with  a  thunder- 
stroke:— But  art  thou  not  drowned,  Stephano?  I 
hope  now,  thou  art  not  drowned.  Is  the  storm  over- 
blown? I  hid  me  under  the  dead  moon-calf's  ga- 
berdine, for  fear  of  the  storm :  And  art  thou  living, 
Stephano?  O  Stephano,  two  Neapolitans  'scap'd! 

Ste.  Pr'ythee,  do  not  turn  me  about;  my  sto- 
mach is  not  constant. 

Cal.  These  be  tine  things,  an  if  they  be  not 
sprites. 
That's  a  brave  god,  and  bears  celestial  liquor: 
I  will  kneel  to  him. 

Ste.  How  did'st  thou  'scape?  How  cam'st  thou 
hither?  swear  by  this  bottle,  how  thou  cam'st  hi- 
ther. I  escaped  upon  a  butt  of  sack,  which  the 
sailors  heaved  over-board,  by  this  bottle!  which  I 
made  of  the  bark  of  a  tree,  with  mine  own  hands, 
since  I  was  cast  a-shore. 

Cal.  I'll  swear,  upon  that  bottle,  to  be  thy 
True  subject;  for  the  liquor  is  not  earthly. 


3 —  to  be  the  siege  of  this  moon-calf?]  Siege  signifies  stool 

in  every  sense  of  the  word,  and  is  here  used  in  the  dirtiest. 

So,  in  Holinshed,  p.  705 :  "  In  this  yeare  also,  a  house  on 
London  Bridge,  called  the  common  siege,  or  privie,  fell  downe 
into  the  Thames." 

A  moon-calf  is  an  inanimate  shapeless  mass,  supposed  by  Pliny 
to  be  engendered  of  woman  only.  See  his  Nat.  Hist.  B.  X.  ch.  64. 

Again,  in  Philemon  Holland's  Translation  of  Book   XXX. 

ch.  14.  edit.  1601 :  " there  is  not  a  better  thing  to  dissolve 

and  scatter  moon-calves,  and  such  like  false  conceptions  in  the 
wombe."     Steevens. 


sc.  ii.  TEMPEST.  89 

Ste.  Here;  swear  then  how  thou  escap'dst.4 

Trix.  Swam  a-shore,  man,  like  a  duck;  I  can 
swim5  like  a  duck,  I'll  be  sworn. 

Ste.  Here,  kiss  the  book:  Though  thou  canst 
swim  like  a  duck,  thou  art  made  like  a  goose. 

Trix.  O  Stephano,  hast  any  more  of  this? 

Ste.  The  whole  butt,  man;  my  cellar  is  in  a 
rock  by  the  sea-side,  where  my  wine  is  hid.  How 
now,  moon-calf?  how  does  thine  ague? 

Cal.  Hast  thou  not  dropped  from  heaven?6 

Ste.  Out  o*  the  moon,  I  do  assure  thee:  I  was 
the  man  in  the  moon,  when  time  was. 

Cal.  I  have  seen  thee  in  her,  and  I  do  adore 
thee; 


*  Cal.  Fll  stvear,  upon  that  bottle,  to  be  thy 
True  subject ;  &C. 
Ste.    Here ;   sivear  then  hotv  thou  escap'dst.']    The  passage 
should  probably  be  printed  thus : 

Ste.  [to  Cal.]  Here,  swear  then,  [to  Trin.~\  How  escap'dst 
thou  ? 

The  speaker  would  naturally  take  notice  of  Caliban's  proffered 
allegiance.  Besides,  he  bids  Trinculo  kiss  the  book  after  he  has 
answered  the  question  ;  a  sufficient  proof  of  the  rectitude  of  the 
proposed  arrangement.     Ritson. 

5 1  can  swim  — ]  I  believe  Trinculo  is  speaking  of  Caliban, 
and  that  we  should  read — "  '«  can  stoim,"  &c.  See  the  next 
speech.     Malone. 

I  do  not  perceive  how  Trinculo  could  answer  for  Caliban's  ex- 
pertness  in  swimming,  having  only  lain  under  his  gaberdine  for 
an  hour. 

Kitson's  arrangement  of  the  preceding  line  is  well  imagined. 

M.  Mason. 

6  Hast  thou  not  dropped  from  heaven?]  The  new-discovered 
Indians  of  the  island  of  St.  Salvador,  asked,  by  signs,  whether 
Columbus  and  his  companions  were  not  come  doivnjrom  heaven. 

TOLLET. 


90  TEMPEST.  act  n. 

My  mistress  shewed  me  thee,  thy  dog,  and  bush.* 

Ste.  Come,  swear  to  that;  kiss  the  book :  I  will 
furnish  it  anon  with  new  contents:  swear. 

Trin.  By  this  good  light,  this  is  a  very  shallow 
monster: — I  afeard  of  him? — a  very  weak  mon- 
ster:8— The  man  i'  the  moon? — a  most  poor  cre- 
dulous monster: — Well  drawn,  monster,  in  good 
sooth. 

Cal.  I'll  shew  thee   every  fertile  inch  o'  the 
island ; 
And  kiss  thy  foot:  I  pr'ythee,  be  my  god.9 

Trin.  By  this  light,  a  most  perfidious  and 
drunken  monster;  when  his  god's  asleep,  he'll  rob 
his  bottle. 

Cal.  I'll  kiss  thy  foot:  I'll  swear  myself  thy  sub- 
ject. 

Ste.  Come  on  then;  down,  and  swear. 

Trin.  I  shall  laugh  myself  to  death  at  this  puppy- 
headed  monster:  A  most  scurvy  monster !  I  could 
find  in  my  heart  to  beat  him, — 

Ste.  Come,  kiss. 


7  My  mistress  shewed  me  thee,  thy  dog,  and  bush.~\  The  old 
copy,  which  exhibits  this  and  several  preceding  speeches  of  Cali- 
ban as  prose,  (though  it  be  apparent  they  were  designed  for 
verse,)  reads — "  My  mistress  shewed  me  thee,  and  thy  dog  and 
thy  bush."  Let  the  editor  who  laments  the  loss  of  the  words — 
and  and  thy,  compose  their  elegy.     Steevens. 

8 1  afeard  of  him  ? — a  very  weak  monster :  &cJ]  It  is  to  bo 
observed,  that  Trinculo,  the  speaker,  is  not  charged  with  being 
afraid  ;  but  it  was  his  consciousness  that  he  was  so  that  drew  this 
brag  from  him.     This  is  nature.    Warburton. 

9  And  kiss  thy  foot :  I  pr'ythee,  he  my  god.]  The  old  copy  re- 
dundantly reads : 

¥  And  I  tvill  kiss  thy  foot,"  &c.     Ritson. 


sc.  ii.  TEMPEST.  91 

Trix.  — but  that  the  poor  monster's  in  drink: 
An  abominable  monster! 

Cal.  I'll  shew  thee  the  best  springs ;  I'll  pluck 
thee  berries ; 
I'll  fish  for  thee,  and  get  thee  wood  enough. 
A  plague  upon  the  tyrant  that  I  serve! 
I'll  bear  him  no  more  sticks,  but  follow  thee, 
Thou  wond'rous  man. 

Trin,  A  most  ridiculous  monster;  to  make  a 
wonder  of  a  poor  drunkard. 

Cal.  I  pr'ythee,  let  me  bring  thee  where  crabs 
grow ; 
And  I  with  my  long  nails  will  dig  thee  pig-nuts; 
Shew  thee  a  jay's  nest,  and  instruct  thee  how 
To  snare  the  nimble  marmozet;  I'll  bring  thee 
To  clust'ring  filberds,  and  sometimes  I'll  get  thee 
Young  sea-mells1  from  the  rock:  Wilt  thou  go  with 
me? 

1 sea-mells — ]  This  word  has  puzzled  the  commenta- 
tors: Dr.  Warburton  reads  shamois  ;  Mr.  Theobald  would  read 
any  thing  rather  than  sea-mells.  Mr.  Holt,  who  wrote  notes 
upon  this  play,  observes,  that  limpets  are  in  some  places  called 
scams,  and  therefore  I  had  once  suffered  scamels  to  stand. 

Johnson. 

Theobald  had  very  reasonably  proposed  to  read  sea-malls,  or 
sea-mells.  An  e,  by  these  careless  printers,  was  easily  changed 
into  a  c,  and  from  this  accident,  I  believe,  all  the  difficulty  arises, 
the  word  having  been  spelt  by  the  transcriber, seamels.  Willoughby 
mentions  the  bird  as  Theobald  has  informed  us.  Had  Mr.  Holt 
told  us  in  what  part  of  England  limpets  arc  called  scams,  more 
regard  would  have  been  paid  to  his  assertion. 

I  should  suppose,  at  all  events,  a  bird  to  have  been  design'd, 
as  young  and  aid  fish  are  taken  with  equal  facility;  but  young 
hi nls  are  more  easily  surprised  than  old  ones.  Besides,  Caliban 
had  already  proffered  to  jish  for  Trinculo.  In  Cavendish's  se- 
cond voyage,  the  sailors  eat  young  gulls  at  the  isle  of  Penguins. 

Steevens. 

I  have  no  doubt  but  Theobald's  proposed  amendment  ought  to 
be  received.  Sir  Joseph  Banks  informs  me,  that  in  Willoughby 's, 
or  rather  John  Kay's  Ornithology,  p.  34,  No.  3,  is  mentioned 


92  TEMPEST.  act  ii. 

Ste.  I  pr'ythee  now,  lead  the  way,  without  any 
more  talking. — Trinculo,  the  king  and  all  our  com- 
pany else  being  drowned,  we  will  inherit  here. — 
Here;  bear  my  bottle.  Fellow  Trinculo,  we'll  fill 
him  by  and  by  again. 

Cal.     Farewell  master;  farewell,  farewell. 

[Sings  drunkenltf. 

Trix.  A  howling  monster;  a  drunken  monster. 

Cal.  No  more  dams  F 11  make  for  fish  ; 
Nor  fetch  in  firing 
At  requiring, 
Nor  scrape  trenchering?  nor  wash  dish; 
'Ban  'Ban,  Ca — Caliban? 
Flas  a  new  master — Get  a  new  man.4 

the  common  sea  mall,  Larus  cinereus  minor  ;  and  that  young 
sea  gulls  have  been  esteemed  a  delicate  food  in  this  country,  we 
learn  from  Plott,  who,  in  his  History  of  Staffordshire,  p.  231, 
gives  an  account  of  the  mode  of  taking  a  species  of  gulls  called 
in  that  country  pewits,  with  a  plate  annexed,  at  the  end  of  which 
he  writes,  "  they  being  accounted  a  good  dish  at  the  most  plenti- 
ful tables."  To  this  it  may  be  added,  that  Sir  Robert  Sibbald 
in  his  Ancient  State  of  the  Shire  of  Fife,  mentions,  amongst 
fowls  which  frequent  a  neighbouring  island,  several  sorts  of  sea- 
vialL,  and  one  in  particular,  the  katieivake,  a  fowl  of  the  Larits 
or  mall  kind,  of  the  bigness  of  an  ordinary  pigeon,  which  some 
hold,  says  he,  to  be  as  savoury  and  as  good  meat  as  a  partridge 
is.     Reed. 

4  Nor  scrape  trenchering,]  In  our  author's  time  trenchers  were 
in  general  use ;  and  male  domestics  were  sometimes  employed  in 
cleansing  them.  "  I  have  helped  (saysLyly,  in  his  History  of  his 
Life  and  Times,  ad  an.  1620,)  to  carry  eighteen  tubs  of  water 
in  one  morning ; — all  manner  of  drudgery  I  willingly  performed  ; 
scrape-trenchers"  &c.     Malone. 

3  'Ban  'Ban,  Ca — Caliban,']  Perhaps  our  author  remembered 
a  song  of  Sir  P.  Sidney's : 

"  Da,  da,  da — Daridan." 

Astrophel  and  Stella,  fol.  1627-     Malone. 

4 Get  a  new  man.~]  When  Caliban  sings  this  last  part  of 

his  ditty,  he  must  be  supposed  to  turn  his  head  scornfully  toward 
the  cell  of  Prospero,  whose  service  he  had  deserted.    Steevens. 


act  in.                   TEMPEST.  93 

Freedom,  hey-day!    hey-day,  freedom!  freedom, 
hey-day,  freedom! 

Ste.  O  brave  monster!  lead  the  way.  [Exeunt. 


ACT  III.      SCENE  I. 

Before  Prospero's  Cell. 

Enter  Ferdinand,  bearing  a  log. 

Fer.  There  be  some  sports  are  painful;  but  their 
labour 
Delight  in  them  sets  off:6  some  kinds  of  baseness 
Are  nobly  undergone;  and  most  poor  matters 


5  There  be  some  sports  are  painful ;  but  their  labour 
Delight  in  them  sets  off:~\ 

Molliter  austerum  studio  fallente  laborem. 

Hor.  sat.  2.  lib.  ii. 
The  old  copy  reads:  "  — and  their  labour,"  &c.    Steevens. 

We  have  again  the  same  thought  in  Macbeth  ; 
"  The  labour  we  delight  in  physicks  pain.'''' 

After  "and,"  at  the  same  time  must  be  understood.  Mr.  Pope 
unnecessarily  reads — "  But  their  labour — ,"  which  has  been  fol- 
lowed by  the  subsequent  editors. 

In  like  manner  in  Coriolanus,  Act  IV.  the  same  change  was 
made  by  him.  "  I  am  a  Roman,  and  (i.  e.  and  yet)  my  services 
are,  as  you  are,  against  them."  Mr.  Pope  reads — "  I  am  a  Ro- 
man, but  my  services,"  &c.     Malone. 

I  prefer  Mr.  Pope's  emendation,  which  is  justified  by  the  fol- 
lowing passage  in  the  same  speech : 

" This  my  mean  tusk  would  be 

"  As  heavy  to  me  as  'tis  odious  ;  but 
"  The  mistreSB  that  I  serve,"  &C. 
It  is  surely  better  to  change  a  single  word,  than  to  counte- 
nance one  corruption  by  another,  or  suppose  that  four  words, 
necessary  to  produce  sense,  were  left  to  be  understood. 

Steevens. 


94  TEMPEST.  act  in. 

Point  to  rich  ends.     This  my  mean  task  would  be6 
As  heavy  to  me,  as  'tis  odious;  but 
The  mistress,  which  I  serve,  quickens  what's  dead, 
And  makes  my  labours  pleasures:  O,  she  is 
Ten  times  more  gentle  than  her  father's  crabbed; 
And  he's  composed  of  harshness.     I  must  remove 
Some  thousands  of  these  logs,  and  pile  them  up, 
Upon  a  sore  injunction:  My  sweet  mistress 
Weeps  when  she  sees  me  work;  and  says,  such 

baseness 
Had  ne'er  like  executor.     I  forget:7 
But  these  sweet  thoughts  do  even  refresh  my  la- 
bours ; 
Most  busy-less,  when  I  do  it.8 


6  This  my  mean  task  would  be — ]  The  metre  of  this  line  is 
defective  in  the  old  copy,  by  the  words  "would  be  being  transferred 
to  the  next  line.  Our  author  and  his  contemporaries  generally 
use  odious  as  a  trisyllable.     Malone. 

Mr.  Malone  prints  the  passage  as  follows : 

" This  my  mean  task  would  be 

"  As  heavy  to  me,  as  odious  ;  but — " 

The  word  odious,  as  he  observes,  is  sometimes  used  as  a  tri- 
syllable.— Granted  ;  but  then  it  is  always  with  the  penult,  short. 
The  metre,  therefore,  as  regulated  by  him,  would  still  be  de- 
fective. 

By  the  advice  of  Dr.  Farmer,  I  have  supplied  the  necessary 
monosyllable — His;  which  completes  the  measure,  without  the 
slightest  change  of  sense.     Steevens. 

7 /  forget  •']  Perhaps  Ferdinand  means  to  say — I  forget 

my  task  ;  but  that  is  not  surprising,  for  I  am  thinking  on  Miranda, 
and  these  sweet  thoughts,  &c.  He  may,  however,  mean,  that 
he  forgets  or  thinks  little  of  the  baseness  of  his  employment. 
Whichsoever  be  the  sense,  And,  or  For,  should  seem  more  pro- 
per in  the  next  line,  than  But.     Malone. 

8  Most  busy-less,  when  I  do  it.]  The  two  first  folios  read  : 
"  Most  busy  lest,  when  I  do  it." 
'Tis  true  this  reading  is  corrupt ;  but  the  corruption  is  so  very 
little  removed  from  the  truth  of  the  text,  that  I  cannot  afford  to 
think  well  of  my  own  sagacity  for  having  discovered  it. 

Theobald. 


sc.  i.  TEMPEST.  95 

Enter  Miranda;  and  Prospero  at  a  distance. 

Mira.  Alas,  now!  pray  you, 

Work  not  so  hard:  I  would,  the  lightning  had 
Burnt  up  those  logs,  that  you  are  enjoin'd  to  pile! 
Pray,  set  it  down,  and  rest  you :  when  this  burns, 
'Twill  weep  for  having  wearied  you:  My  father 
Is  hard  at  study;  pray  now,  rest  yourself; 
Pie's  safe  for  these  three  hours. 

Fer.  O  most  dear  mistress, 

The  sun  will  set,  before  I  shall  discharge 
What  I  must  strive  to  do. 

Mira.  If  you'll  sit  down, 

I'll  bear  your  logs  the  while:  Pray, give  me  that; 
I'll  carry  it  to  the  pile. 

Fer.  No,  precious  creature: 

I  had  rather  crack  my  sinews,  break  my  back, 
Than  you  should  such  dishonour  undergo, 
While  I  sit  lazy  by. 

Mira.  It  would  become  me 

As  well  as  it  does  you:  and  I  should  do  it 
With  much  more  ease;  for  my  good  will  is  to  it, 
And  yours  against.9 

Pro.  Poor  worm!  thou  art  infected; 

This  visitation  shews  it. 

Mira.  You  look  wearily. 

Fer.  No,  noble  mistress;  'tis  fresh  morning  with 
me, 

*  And  yonrs  against.']  The  old  copy  reads  : — 
"  And  yours  it  is  against." 
By  the  advice  of  Dr.  Fanner  I  have  omitted  the  words  in  Italicks, 
as  they  are  mi  dLhess  to  the  sense  of  the  passage,  and  would  have 
rendered  the  hemistich  too  long  to  join  with  its  successor  in  mak- 
ing a  regular  verse.     Steevens. 


96  TEMPEST.  act  hi. 

When  you  are  by  at  night.1     I  do  beseech  you, 
(Chiefly,  that  I  might  set  it  in  my  prayers,) 
What  is  your  name? 

MiRA.  Miranda : — O  my  father, 

I  have  broke  your  hest2  to  say  so! 

Fee.  Admir'd  Miranda 

Indeed,  the  top  of  admiration ;  worth 
What's  dearest  to  the  world!  Full  many  a  lady 
I  have  ey'd  with  best  regard;  and  many  a  time 
The  harmony  of  their  tongues  hath  into  bondage 
Brought  my  too  diligent  ear:  for  several  virtues 
Have  I  lik'd  several  women;  never  any 
With  so  full  soul,  but  some  defect  in  her 
Did  quarrel  with  the  noblest  grace  she  ow'd, 
And  put  it  to  the  foil :  But  you,  O  you, 
So  perfect,  and  so  peerless,  are  created 
Of  every  creature's  best.3 


1 "'tis fresh  morning  •with  me, 

When  you  are  by  at  night.] 

"  Tu  mihi  curarum  requies,  tu  node  vel  atra 

"  Lumen ." 

Tibul.  Lib.  iv.  El.  xiii.     Malone. 

2 hest — ]  For  behest ;  i.  e.  command.    So  before,  Act  I. 

sc.  ii : 

"  Refusing  her  grand  hests "     Steevens. 

3  Of  every  creature 's  best.']  Alluding  to  the  picture  of  Venus 
by  Apelles.    Johnson. 

Had  Shakspeare  availed  himself  of  this  elegant  circumstance, 
he  would  scarcely  have  said,  "  of  every  creatu re's  best,"  because 
such  a  phrase  includes  the  component  parts  of  the  brute  creation. 
Had  he  been  thinking  on  the  judicious  selection  made  by  the 
Grecian  Artist,  he  would  rather  have  expressed  his  meaning  by 
"  every  woman's"  or  "  every  beauty's  best."  Perhaps  he  had 
only  in  his  thoughts  a  fable  related  by  Sir  Philip  Sidney  in  the 
third  book  of  his  Arcadia.  The  beasts  obtained  permission  from 
Jupiter  to  make  themselves  a  King ;  and  accordingly  created 
one  of  every  creature's  best; 


sc.  i.  TEMPEST.  97 

Mira.  I  do  not  know 

One  of  my  sex ;  no  woman's  face  remember, 
Save,  from  my  glass,  mine  own ;  nor  have  I  seen 
More  that  I  may  call  men,  than  yon,  good  friend, 
And  my  dear  father  :  how  features  are  abroad, 
I  am  skill-less  of;  but,  by  my  modesty, 
(The  jewel  in  my  dower,)  I  would  not  wish 
Any  companion  in  the  world  but  you ; 
Nor  can  imagination  form  a  shape, 
Besides  yourself,  to  like  of:  But  I  prattle 
Something  too  wildly,  and  my  father's  precepts 
Therein  forget.4 

Fer.  I  am,  in  my  condition, 

A  prince,  Miranda  ;   I  do  think,  a  king  ; 
(I  would,  not  so !)  and  would  no  more  endure 
This  wooden  slavery,  than  I  would  suffer 5 


"  Full  glad  they  were,  and  tooke  the  naked  sprite, 
"  Which  straight  the  earth  yclothed  in  his  clay: 
"  The  lyon  heart;  the  ounce  gave  active  might; 
"  The  horse  good  shape;  the  sparrow  lust  to  play; 
"  Nightingale  voice,  entising  songs  to  say,  &c.  &c. 
"  Thus  man  was  made;  thus  man  their  lord  became." 
In  the  1st  book  of  the  Arcadia,  a  similar  praise  is  also  be- 
stowed by  a  lover  on  his  mistress: 

"  She  is  her  self'e  of  best  things  the  collection." 

Steevexs. 

'  Therein  forge!.]  The  old  copy,  in  contempt  of  metre,  reads 
— "  /therein  do  forget."     Steevens. 

5  — —  than  I  would  suffer,  &c]  The  old  copy  reads — Than 
to  suffer.     Tlii'  emendation  is  Mr.  Pope's.     Steevens. 

The  reading  of  the  old  copy  is  right,  however  ungrammatical. 
So,  in  All's  well  that  ends  well :  "  No  more  of  this,  Helena, 
go  to,  no  more;  lest  it  be  rather  thought  you  affect  a  sorrow, 
than  to  have."    Malone. 

The  defective  metre  shows  that  some  corruption  had  happened 
in  the  present  instance.  I  receive  no  deviations  from  established 
grammar,  on  the  single  authority  of  the  folio.     Siefvevs. 

VOL.  IV.  H 


9S  TEMPEST.  act  in. 

The  flesh-fly  blow  my  mouth.6 — Hear   my  soul 

speak ; — 
The  very  instant  that  I  saw  you,  did 
My  heart  fly  to  your  service  ;  there  resides, 
To  make  me  slave  to  it ;  and  for  your  sake, 
Am  I  this  patient  log-man. 

Mir  a.  Do  you  love  me  ? 

Fer.  O  heaven,  O  earth,  bear  witness  to  this 
sound, 
And  crown  what  I  profess  with  kind  event, 
If  I  speak  true  ;  if  hollowly,  invert 
What  best  is  boded  me,  to  mischief!     I, 
Beyond  all  limit  of  what  else  i'  the  world,7 
Do  love,  prize,  honour  you. 

Mira.  I  am  a  fool, 

To  weep  at  what  I  am  glad  of.8 

c  The  flesh-fly  blow  my  mouth.]  Mr.  Malone  observes,  that 
to  blotv,  in  this  instance,  signifies  to  "  swell  and  inflame."  But 
I  believe  he  is  mistaken.  To  blow,  as  it  stands  in  the  text,  means 
the  act  of  afy  by  which  she  lodges  eggs  in  flesh.  So,  in  Chap- 
man's version  of  the  Iliad:- 

*'  I  much  fear,  lest  with  the  blows  of  flies 

"  His  brass-inflicted  wounds  are  fill'd — "     Steevens. 

of  what  else  is  the  xvorld."]  i.  e.  of  aught  else;  of  what- 


*J  -*  CD 

soever  else  there  is  in  the  world.     I  once  thought  we  should  read 
— aught  else.  But  the  old  copy  is  right.  So,  in  King  Henry  VI. 

A  •    111  • 

"  With  promise  of  his  sister,  and  what  else, 

"  To  strengthen  and  support  king  Edward's  place." 

Malone. 

8  /  am  a  fool, 

To  weep  at  what  I  am  glad  of.']  This  is  one  of  those  touches 
of  nature  that  distinguish  Shakspeare  from  all  other  writers.  It 
was  necessary,  in  support  of  the  character  of  MirandS,  to  make 
her  appear  unconscious  that  excess  of  sorrow  andexcess  of  joy  find 
alike  their  relief  from  tears;  and  as  this  is  the  first  time  that  con- 
rummate  pleasure  had  made  any  near  approaches  to  her  heart, 
she  calls  such  a  seeming  contradictory  expression  of  it,  folly. 


sc.  /.  TEMPEST.  99 

Pro.  Fair  encounter 

Of  two  most  rare  affections!     Heavens  rain  grace 
On  that  which  breeds  between  them ! 

Fer.  Wherefore  weep  you  ? 

Mira.  At  mine  unworthiness,  that  dare  not  offer 
What  I  desire  to  give ;  and  much  less  take, 
What  I  shall  die  to  want :  But  this  is  trifling ; 
And  all  the  more  it  seeks 9  to  hide  itself, 
The  bigger  bulk  it  shews.  Hence,  bashful  cunning! 
And  prompt  me,  plain  and  holy  innocence ! 
[  am  your  wife,1  if  you  will  marry  me ; 
If  not,  I'll  die  your  maid :  to  be  your  fellow  2 
You  may  deny  me ;  but  I'll  be  your  servant, 
Whether  you  will  or  no. 

Fer.  My  mistress,  dearest, 

And  I  thus  humble  ever. 

Mira.  My  husband  then  ? 

Fer.  Ay,  with  a  heart  as  willing 
As  bondage  e'er  of  freedom :  here's  my  hand. 

Mira.  And  mine,  with  my  heart  in't: 3  And  now 
farewell, 

The  same  thought  occurs  in  Romeo  and  Juliet: 

"  Back,  foolish  tears,  hack,  to  your  native  spring! 

"  Your  tributary  drops  belong  to  woe, 

"  Which  you,  mistaking,  offer  up  to  joy."     Steevens. 

9 it  seeks  — ]  i.  e.  my  affection  seeks.     Malone. 

1  /  am  your  rvi/'e,  &c] 

"  Si  tibi  non  cordi  fuerant  connubia  nostra, 
"  Attamen  in  vestras  potuisti  ducere  sedes, 
"  Qua?  tibi  jucundo  famularer  serva  labore; 
"  Candida  permulcens  liquidis  vestigia  lymphis, 
"  Purpureave  tuum  consternens  veste  cubile.'' 

Catul.  62.     Maloxe. 

s your,  fellow — ]  i.  e.  comnanion.     Steevens. 

here's  my  /mud. 


Miran.  And  mine,  with  my  heart  in  I .-]  It  is  still  customary 

H  2 


100  TEMPEST.  act  ill. 

Till  half  an  hour  hence. 

Fer.  A  thousand !  thousand  ! 

\_Ezeunt  Fer.  and  Mir. 

Pro.  So  glad  of  this  as  they,  I  cannot  be, 
Who  are  surpriz'd  with  all;4  but  my  rejoicing 
At  nothing  can  be  more.     I'll  to  my  book ; 
For  yet,  ere  supper  time,  must  I  perform 
Much  business  appertaining.  \_Eait. 


SCENE  II. 

Another  'part  of  the  Island. 

Enter  Stephano  and  Trinculo  ;  Caliban  fol- 
lowing with  a  bottle. 

Ste.  Tell  not  me ; — when  the  butt  is  out,  we 
will  drink  water;  not  a  drop  before :  therefore  bear 


in  the  west  of  England,  when  the  conditions  of  a  bargain  are 
agreed  upon,  for  the  parties  to  ratify  it  by  joining  their  hands, 
and  at  the  same  time  for  the  purchaser  to  give  an  earnest.  To 
this  practice  the  poet  alludes.     So,  in  The  Winter's  Tale: 

"  Ere  I  could  make  thee  open  thy  white  hand, 

"  And  clap  thyself  my  love ;  then  didst  thou  utter 

"  /  am  yours  for  ever." 
And  again,  in  The  Trvo  Gentlemen  of  Verona: 

"  Pro.  Why  then  we'll  make  exchange ;  here,  take  you  this. 

"  Jul.  And  seal  the  bargain  with  a  holy  kiss. 

"  Pro.  Here  is  my  hand  for  my  true  constancy." 

Henley. 

4  So  glad  of  this  as  they,  I  cannot  be, 
Who  are  surpriz'd  with  all;]    The  sense  might  be  clearer, 
were  we  to  make  a  slight  transposition: 

"  So  glad  of  this  as  they,  who  are  surpriz'd 
"  With  all,  I  cannot  be — " 
Perhaps,  however,  more  consonantly  with  ancient  language,  we 
should  join  two  of  the  words  together,  and  read — 
"  Who  are  surpriz'd  withal."    Steevens. 


sc.  ii.  TEMPEST.  101 

up,  and  board  'em : &     Servant-monster,  drink  to 


me. 


Turn.  Servant-monster  ?  the  folly  of  this  island ! 
They  say,  there's  but  five  upon  this  isle :  we  are 
three  of  them ;  if  the  other  two  be  brained  like  us, 
the  state  totters.u 

Ste.  Drink,  servant-monster,  when  I  bid  thee  ; 
thy  eyes  are  almost  set  in  thy  head. 

Trin.  Where  should  they  be  set  else  ?  he  were 
a  brave  monster  indeed,  if  they  were  set  in  his 
tail.7 

Ste.  My  man-monster  hath  drowned  his  tongue 
in  sack :  for  my  part,  the  sea  cannot  drown  me : 
I  swam,8  ere  I  could  recover  the  shore,  five-and- 


5 bear  up,  and  board  'em .-]    A  metaphor  alluding  to  a 

chace  at  sea.     Sir  J.  Hawkins. 

6 if  the  other  tivo  be  brained  like  us,  the  state  totters."}  We 

meet  with  a  similar  idea  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra:  "  He  bears 
the  third  part  of  the  world." — "  The  third  part  then  is  drunk." 

Steevens. 

7 he  were  a  brave  monster  indeed,  if  they  were  set  in  his 

tail.']  I  believe  this  to  be  an  allusion  to  a  story  that  is  met  with 
in  Stotve,  and  other  writers  of  the  time.  It  seems  in  the  year 
157^,  a  whale  was  thrown  ashore  near  Ramsgate;  "  A  mon- 
shousjish  (says  the  chronicler)  but  not  so  monstrous  as  some  re- 
ported— for  his  eyes  were  in  his  head,  and  not  in  his  back.'" 

Summary,  1575,  p.  562.     Farmer. 

8 I  siva m,  &c]  This  play  was  not  published  till  1623. 

Albumazar  made  its  appearance  in  1614,  and  has  a  passage  rela- 
tive to  the  escape  of  a  sailor  yet  more  incredible.  Perhaps,  in  both 
instances,  a  sneer  was  meant  at  the  Voyages  of  Ferdinando  Mendez 
Pinto,  or  the  exaggerated  accounts  of  other  lying  travellers: 

" live  days  I  was  under  water:  and  at  length 

"  Got  up  and  spread  myself  upon  a  chest, 
11  Rowing  with  arms,  and  steering  with  my  feet: 
"  And  thus  in  five  days  more  got  land."     Act  III.  sc.  v, 

Steevens. 


102  TEMPEST.  act  in. 

thirty  leagues,  off  and  on,  by  this  light. — Thou 
shalt  be  my  lieutenant,  monster,  or  my  standard. 

Trin.  Your  lieutenant,  if  you  list;  he's  no 
standard.9 

Ste.  We'll  not  run,  monsieur  monster. 

Trin.  Nor  go  neither:  but  you'll  lie,  like  dogs; 
and  yet  say  nothing  neither. 

Ste.  Moon-calf,  speak  once  in  thy  life,  if  thou 
beest  a  good  moon-calf. 

Cal.  How  does  thy  honour?  Let  me  lick  thy 
shoe : 
I'll  not  serve  him,  he  is  not  valiant. 

Trix.  Thou  liest,  most  ignorant  monster ;  I  am 
in  case  to  justle  a  constable  :  Why,  thou  deboshed 
fish  thou,1  was  there  ever  man  a  coward,  that  hath 
drunk  so  much  sack  as  I  to-day  ?  Wilt  thou  tell 
a  monstrous  lie,  being  but  half  a  fish,  and  half  a 
monster? 


9 or  my  standard. 

Trin.  Your  lieutenant,  if  you  list;  he's  no  standard.]  Mean- 
ing, he  is  so  much  intoxicated,  as  not  to  be  able  to  stand.  The 
quibble  between  standard,  an  ensign,  and  standard,  a  fruit-tree 
that  grows  without  support,  is  evident.     Steevens. 

1 thou  deboshed  Jish  thou,]  I  met  with  this  word,  which 

I  suppose  to  be  the  same  as  debauched,  in  Randolph's  Jealous 
Lovers,  1634: 

" See,  your  house  be  stor'd 

"  With  the  deboishest  roarers  in  this  city." 
Again,  in  Monsieur  Thomas,  \6'3Q: 

" saucy  fellows, 

"  Deboshed  and  daily  drunkards." 
The  substantive  occurs  in  Partheneia  Sacra,  1633: 

"  — A  hater  of  men,  rather  than  the  deboishments  of  their 
manners." 

When  the  word  was  first  adopted  from  the  French  language,  it 
appears  to  have  been  spelt  according  to  the  pronunciation,  and 
therefore  wrongly;  but  ever  since  it  has  been  spelt  right,  it  has 
been  uttered  with  equal  impropriety.     Steevens. 


sc.  n.  TEMPEST.  103. 

Cal.  Lo,  how  he  mocks  me!  wilt  thou  let  him, 
my  lord  ? 

Trix.  Lord,  quoth  he ! — that  a  monster  should 
be  such  a  natural! 

Cal.  Lo,  lo,  again!  bite  him  to  death,  I  pr'ythee. 

Ste.  Trinculo,  keep  a  good  tongue  in  your  head; 
if  you  prove  a  mutineer,  the  next  tree — The  poor 
monster's  my  subject,  and  he  shall  not  suffer  indig- 
nity. 

Cal.    I  thank  my  noble  lord.     Wilt  thou  be 
pleas'd 
To  hearken  once  again  the  suit  I  made  thee  ? 2 

Ste.  Marry  will  I :  kneel  and  repeat  it ;  I  will 
stand,  and  so  shall  Trinculo. 

Enter  Ariel,  invisible. 

Cal.  As  I  told  thee 
Before,  I  am  subject  to  a  tyrant;3 
A  sorcerer,  that  by  his  cunning  hath 
Cheated  me  of  this  island. 

Art.  Thou  liest. 

Cal.  Thou  liest,  thou  jesting  monkey,  thou ; 


*  JT  thank  my  nohle  lord.     Wilt  thou  be  pleas' 'd 
To  hearken  once  again  the  suit  I  made  thee?]  The  old  copy, 
which  erroneously  prints  this  and  other  of  Caliban's  speeches  as 
prose,  reads — 

" to  the  suit  I  made  thee;" 

But  the  elliptical  mode  of  expression  in  the  text,  has  already 
occurred  in  the  second  scene  of  the  first  act  of  this  play: 

" being  an  enemy 

"  To  me  inveterate,  hearkens  my  brother  s  suit." 

Steevens. 

J  — —  a  tyrant;]  Tyrant  is  here  employed  as  a  trisyllable. 

Steevens. 


104  TEMPEST.  act  in. 

I  would,  my  valiant  master  would  destroy  thee  : 
I  do  not  lie. 

Ste.  Trinculo,  if  you  trouble  him  any  more  in 
his  tale,  by  this  hand,  I  will  supplant  some  of  your 
teeth. 

Trix.  Why,  I  said  nothing. 

Ste.  Mum  then,  and  no  more. — [To  Caliban.] 
Proceed. 

Cal.  I  say,  by  sorcery  he  got  this  isle  ; 
From  me  he  got  it.     If  thy  greatness  will 
Revenge  it  on  him — ibr,  I  know,  thou  dar'st; 
But  this  thins;  dare  not. 

Ste.  That's  most  certain. 

Cal.  Thou  shalt  be  lord  of  it,  and  I'll  serve  thee. 

Ste.  How  now  shall  this  be  compassed  ?  Can'st 
thou  bring  me  to  the  party  ? 

Cal.  Yea,  yea,  my  lord;    I'll  yield  him  thee 
asleep, 
Where  thou  may'st  knock  a  nail  into  his  head.4 

Ari.  Thou  liest,  thou  canst  not. 

Cal.  What  a  pied  ninny's  this  ? 5     Thou  scurvy 
patch ! — 


* Til  yield  him  thee  asleep, 

Where  thou  may  at  knock  a  nail  into  his  head.]  Perhaps 
Shakspeare  caught  this  idea  from  the  4th  chapter  of  Judges,  v.  21 : 
"  Then  Jael,  Heber's  wife,  took  a  nail  of  the  tent,  and  took  a 
hammer  in  her  hand,  and  went  softly  unto  him,  and  smote  the 
nail  into  his  temples.  Sic.  for  he  was  fast  asleep,"  &c. 

Steevens. 

4  What  a  pied  ninny's  thisf]  It  should  be  remembered  that 
Trinculo  is  no  sailor,  but  a  jester;  and  is  so  called  in  the  ancient 
dramatis  persons.  He  therefore  wears  the  party-coloured  dress 
of  one  of  these  characters.  See  fig.  XII.  in  the  plate  annexed  to 


sc.  ii.  TEMPEST.  105 

I  do  beseech  thy  greatness,  give  him  blows, 
And  take  his  bottle  from  him  :  when  that's  gone, 
He  shall  drink  nought  but  brine  ;  for  I'll  not  shew 

him 
Where  the  quick  freshes  are. 

Ste.  Trinculo,  run  into  no  further  danger  :  in- 
terrupt the  monster  one  word  further,  and,  by  this 
hand,  I'll  turn  my  mercy  out  of  doors,  and  make 
a  stock-fish  of  thee. 

Trix.  Why,  what  did  I  ?  I  did  nothing  ;  I'll  go 
further  off. 

Ste.  Didst  thou  not  say,  he  lied  ? 

Ari.  Thou  liest. 

Ste.  Do  I  so  ?  take  thou  that.  [Strikes  him.~]  As 
you  like  this,  give  me  the  lie  another  time. 

Trix.  I  did  not  give  the  lie : — Out  o'  your  wits, 

and  hearing  too  ? A  pox  o'  your  bottle !  this 

can  sack,  and  drinking  do. — A  murrain  on  your 
monster,  and  the  devil  take  your  fingers ! 

Cal.  Ha,  ha,  ha  ! 

Ste.  Now,  forward  with  your  tale.  Pr'ythee  stand 
further  off. 

Cal.  Beat  him  enough  :  after  a  little  time, 
I'll  beat  him  too. 

Ste.  Stand  further. — Come,  proceed. 


the  First  Part  of  K.  Henry  IV.  and  Mr.  Toilet's  explanation  of 
it.     So,  in  the  Devil's  Laiv  Case,  1623: 

"  Unless  I  wear  a  pied  fool's  coat.''     Steevens. 

Dr.  Johnson  observes,  that  Caliban  could  have  no  knowledge 
of  the  striped  coat  usually  worn  by  fools;  and  would  therefore 
transfer  this  speech  to  Stephano.  But  though  Caliban  might  not 
know  this  circumstance,  Shakspeare  did.  Surely  he  who  has 
given  to  all  countries  and  all  ages  the  manners  of  his  own,  might 
forget  himself  here,  as  well  as  in  other  places.     Malone. 


106  TEMPEST.  act  in. 

Cal.  Why,  as  I  told  thee,  'tis  a  custom  with  him 
I'  the  afternoon  to  sleep :  there  thou may'st  brain  him, 
Having  first  seiz'd  his  books;  or  with  a  log 
Batter  his  skull,  or  paunch  him  with  a  stake, 
Or  cut  his  wezand  with  thy  knife  :  Remember, 
First  to  possess  his  books  ;  for  without  them 
He's  but  a  sot,  as  I  am,  nor  hath  not 
One  spirit  to  command : 6  They  all  do  hate  him, 


* Remember, 

First  to  possess  his  books  ;Jbr  tvitkotd  them 
He's  but  a  sot,  as  I  am,  nor  hath  not 

One  spirit  to  command:]  Milton,  in  his  Masque  at  Ludlow 
Castle,  seems  to  have  caught  a  hint  from  the  foregoing  passage: 
"  Oh,  ye  mistook;  ye  should  have  snatch'd  his  wand, 
"  And  bound  him  fast;  without  his  rod  revers'd, 
"  And  backward  mutters  of  dissevering  power, 
"  We  cannot  free  the  lady." Steevens. 

In  a  former  scene  Prospero  says: 

" I'll  to  my  book; 

"  For  yet,  ere  supper  time,  must  I  perform 

"  Much  business  appertaining." 
Again,  in  Act  V: 

"  And  deeper  than  did  ever  plummet  sound, 

"  I'll  drown  my  book." 
In  the  old  romances  the  sorcerer  is  always  furnished  with  a 
book,  by  reading  certain  parts  of  which  he  is  enabled  to  summon 
to  his  aid  whatever  daemons  or  spirits  he  has  occasion  to  employ. 
When  he  is  deprived  of  his  book,  his  power  ceases.  Our  au- 
thor might  have  observed  this  circumstance  much  insisted  on  in 
the  Orlando  Innamorato  of  Boyardo,  (of  which,  as  the  Rev. 
Mr.  Bowie  informs  me,  the  first  three  Cantos  were  translated  and 
published  in  15()8,)  and  also  in  Harrington's  translation  of  the 
Orlando  Furioso,  1591. 

A  few  lines  from  the  former  of  these  works  may  prove  the  best 
illustration  of  the  passage  before  us. 

Angelica,  by  the  aid  of  Argalia,  having  bound  the  enchanter 
Malagigi: 

"  The  damsel  searcheth  forthwith  in  his  breast, 

"  And  there  the  damned  booke  she  straightway  founde, 

"  Which  circles  strange  and  shapes  of  fiendes  exprest; 

"  No  sooner  she  some  wordes  therein  did  sound, 

"  And  opened  had  some  damned  leaves  unblest, 


sc.  ii.  TEMPEST.  107 

As  rootedly  as  I :  Burn  but  his  books  ; 

He  has  brave  utensils,  (for  so  he  calls  them,) 

Which,  when  he  has  a  house,  he'll  deck  withal. 

And  that  most  deeply  to  consider,  is 

The  beautv  of  his  daughter  •  he  himself 

Calls  her  a  non-pareil :  I  ne'er  saw  woman,7 

But  only  Sycorax  my  dam,  and  she  ; 

But  she  as  far  surpasseth  Sycorax, 

As  greatest  does  least. 

Ste,  Is  it  so  brave  a  lass  ? 

Cal.  Ay,  lord  j  she  will  become  thy  bed,  I  war- 
rant, 
And  bring  thee  forth  brave  brood. 

Ste.  Monster,  I  will  kill  this  man:  his  daughter 
and  I  will  be  king  and  queen  ;  (save  our  graces!) 
and  Trinculo  and  thyself  shall  be  viceroys  : — Dost 
thou  like  the  plot,  Trinculo  ? 

Trin.  Excellent. 

Ste.  Give  me  thy  hand;  I  am  sorry  I  beat  thee: 
but,  while  thou  livest,  keep  a  good  tongue  in  thy 
head. 

Cal.  Within  this  half  hour  will  he  be  asleep  ; 
Wilt  thou  destroy  him  then  ? 


"  But  spirits  of  th'  ayre,  earth,  sea,  came  out  of  hand, 
M  Crying  alowde,  what  is't  you  us  command?" 

Malone. 

7  Calls  Iter  a  non-pareil:  I  ne'er  saio  woman,]  The  old  copy 
reads: 

"  Calls  her  a  non-pareil:  I  never  saw  a  woman."  But  this 
verse,  heing  too  long  by  a  foot,  Hanmer  judiciously  gave  it  as  it 
now  stands  in  the  text. 

By  means  as  innocent,  the  versification  of  Shakspeare,  has,  I 
hope,  in  many  instances  been  restored.  The  temerity  of  some 
critics  had  too  long  imposed  severe  restraints  on  their  successors. 

Steevens. 


108  TEMPEST.  act  in. 

Ste.  Ay,  on  mine  honour. 

Ari.  This  will  I  tell  my  master. 

Cal.  Thou  mak'st  me  merry  :  I  am  full  of  plea- 
sure ; 
Let  us  be  jocund :  Will  you  troll  the  catch 8 
You  taught  me  but  while-ere  ? 

Ste.  At  thy  request,  monster,  I  will  do  reason, 

any  reason:  Come  on,  Trinculo,  let  us  sing.  \_Sings. 

Flout  'em,  and  shout  'em;  and  shout  'em,  and 

Jlout  'em ; 
Thought  is  free. 

Cal.  That's  not  the  tune. 

[Ariel  plays  the  tune  on  a  tabor  and  pipe. 

Ste.  What  is  this  same  ? 

Trin.  This  is  the  tune  of  our  catch,  played  by 
the  picture  of  No-body.9 

Ste.  If  thou  beest  a  man,  shew  thyself  in  thy 
likeness  :  if  thou  beest  a  devil,  take't  as  thou  list. 

Trin.  O,  forgive  me  my  sins ! 


*  Will  you  troll  the  catch — ]  Ben  Jonson  uses  the  word  in 
Every  Man  in  his  Humour: 

"  If  he  read  this  with  patience,  I'll  troul  ballads." 
Again,  in  the  Cobler's  Prophecy,  1594: 

"  A  fellow  that  will  troul  it  off  with  tongue. 
"  Faith,  you  shall  hear  me  troll  it  after  my  fashion." 
To  troll  a  catch,  I  suppose,  is  to  dismiss  it  trippingly  from  the 
tongue.     Steevens. 

9  This  is  the  tune  of  our  catch,  played  by  the  picture  of  No- 
body.] A  ridiculous  figure,  sometimes  represented  on  signs. 
Westward  for  Smelts,  a  book  which  our  author  appears  to  have 
read,  was  printed  for  John  Trundle  in  Barbican,  at  the  signe  of 
the  No-body.     Malone. 

The  allusion  is  here  to  the  print  of  No-body,  as  prefixed  to 
the  anonymous  comedy  of"  No-body  and  Some-body ;"  without 
date,  but  printed  before  the  year  1600.     Reed. 


sc.  ii.  TEMPEST.  109 

Ste.  He  that  dies,  pays  all  debts :  I  defy  thee : — 
Mercy  upon  us! 

Cal.  Art  thou  afeard?1 

Ste.  No,  monster,  not  I. 

Cal.  Be  not  afeard;  the  isle  is  full  of  noises, 
Sounds,  and  sweet  airs,  that  give  delight,  and  hurt 

not. 
Sometimes  a  thousand  twangling  instruments 
Will  hum  about  mine  ears;  and  sometime  voices, 
That,  if  I  then  had  wak'd  after  long  sleep, 
Will  make  me  sleep  again:  and  then,  in  dreaming, 
The  clouds,  methought,  would  open,  and  shewriches 
Ready  to  drop  upon  me;  that,  when  I  wak'd,    ^ 
I  cry'd  to  dream  again. 

Ste.  This  will  prove  a  brave  kingdom  to  me, 
where  I  shall  have  my  music  for  nothing. 

Cal.  When  Prospero  is  destroyed. 

Ste.  That  shall  be  by  and  by:  I  remember  the 
story. 

Trin.  The  sound  is  going  away:  let's  follow  it, 
and  after,  do  our  work. 

Ste.  Lead,  monster;  we'll  follow. — I  would,  I 
could  see  this  taborer:2  he  lays  it  on. 


1 afeard?]  Thus  the  old  copy. — To  qffear  is  an  obsolete 

verb,  with  the  same  meaning  as  to  affray. 

So,  in  the  Sliipmannes  Tale  of  Chaucer,  v.  13,330: 

"  This  wit' was  not  aferde  ne  qffraide." 
Between  aferde  and   afaide,   in  the  time  of  Chaucer,  there 
might  have  been  some  nice  distinction  which  is  at  present  lost. 

Steevens. 

8  /  would  I  could  see  this  taborer:]  Several  of  the  incidents 
in  this  scene,  viz. — Ariel's  mimickry  of  Trinculo — the  time 
played  on  the  tabor, — and  Caliban's  description  of  the  twangling 
instrument,  &c. — might  have  been  borrowed  from  Marco  Paolo, 
the  old  Venetian  voyager;  who  in  Lib.  I.  ch.  44,  describing  the 


110  TEMPEST.  act  in. 

Trix.  Wilt  come?  I'll  follow,  Stephano.3 

\_Eveimt. 

SCENE  III. 

Another  'part  of  the  Island. 

Enter   Aloxso,   Sebastian,   Antonio,    Gon- 
zalo,  Adrian,  Francisco,  and  others. 

Gox.  By'r  lakin,4  I  can  go  no  further,  sir; 
My  old  bones  ache :  here's  a  maze  trod,  indeed, 
Through  forth-rights,  and  meanders!  by  your  pa- 
tience, 
I  needs  must  rest  me. 


desert  of  Lop  in  Asia,  says — "  Audiuntur  ibi  voces  dcemonum,  &c. 
voces  Jingcntes  eorum  quos  comitari  se  putant.  Audiuntur  inter- 
dum  in  aere  concentus  musicorum  instrume?itorum,"  &c.  This 
passage  was  rendered  accessible  to  Shakspeare  by  an  English 
translation  entitled  The  most  noble  and  famous  Trauels  of  Marcus 
Paidus,  one  of  the  Nobilitie  of  the  State  of  Venice,  &c.  bl.  1.  4to. 
15/9,  by  John  Frampton.  "  —  You  shall  heare  in  the  ayre  the 
sound  of  tabers  and  other  instruments,  to  put  the  trauellers  in 
feare,  &c.  by  euill  spirites  that  make  these  soundes,  and  also  do 
call  diuerse  of  the  trauellers  by  their  names"  &c.  ch.  36,  p.  32. 
To  some  of  these  circumstances  Milton  also  alludes: 

" calling  shapes,  and  beckoning  shadows  dire, 

"  And  aery  tongues  that  syllable  men's  names, 
*'  On  sands,  and  shores,  and  desert  wildernesses." 

Steevens. 

3  Wilt  come  ?  I'll  follow,  Stephano.']  The  first  words  are  ad- 
dressed to  Caliban,  who,  vexed  at  the  folly  of  his  new  companions 
idly  running  after  the  musick,  while  they  ought  only  to  have  at- 
tended to  the  main  point,  the  dispatching  Prospero,  seems,  for 
some  little  time,  to  have  staid  behind.     Heath. 

The  words — Wilt  come?  should  be  added  to  Stephano's  speech. 
Til  follow,  is  Trinculo's  answer.     Ritson. 

4  By'r  lakin,]  i.  e.  The  diminutive  only  of  our  lady,  i.  e. 
ladykin.     Steevens. 


sc.  in.  TEMPEST.  1 1 1 

Alon.  Old  lord,  I  cannot  blame  thee, 

Who  am  myself  attach'd  with  weariness, 
To  the  dulling  of  my  spirits:  sit  down,  and  rest. 
Even  here  I  will  put  off  my  hope,  and  keep  it 
No  longer  for  my  flatterer :  he  is  drown'd, 
Whom  thus  we  stray  to  And ;  and  the  sea  mocks 
Our  frustrate  search5  on  land :  Well  let  him  go. 

Ant.  I  am  right  glad  that  he's  so  out  of  hope. 

[Aside  to  Sebastian. 
Do  not,  for  one  repulse,  forego  the  purpose 
That  you  resolv'd  to  effect. 

See.  The  next  advantage 

Will  we  take  thoroughly. 

Ant.  Let  it  be  to-night ; 

For,  now  they  are  oppress'd  with  travel,  they 
Will  not,  nor  cannot,  use  such  vigilance, 
As  when  they  are  fresh. 

See.  I  say,  to-night :  no  more. 


Solemn  and  strange  musick;  and  Prospero  above, 
invisible.  Enter  several  strange  Shapes,  bringing 
in  a  banquet;  they  dance  about  it  with  gentle  ac- 
tions of  salutation  ;  and,  inviting  the  King,  fyc.  to 
eat,  they  depart. 


Alon.  What  harmony  is  this?  my  good  friends, 
hark ! 

Gon.  Marvellous  sweet  musick ! 


*  Our  frustrate  search  — ]   Frustrate  for  frustrated.     So,  in 
Chapman's  translation  of  Homer's  Hymn  to  Apollo: 

" some  God  hath  fill'd 

"  Our  frustrate  sails,  defeating  what  we  will'd." 

Steevens. 


112  TEMPEST.  act  in. 


Alon.  Give  us  kind  keepers,  heavens!    What 
were  these  ?'v* 

Seb.  A  living  drollery : 6  Now  I  will  believe, 
That  there  are  unicorns ;  that,  in  Arabia 
There  is  one  tree,  the  phoenix*  throne  ;7  one  phcenix 
At  this  hour  reigning  there. 

Ant.  I'll  believe  both ; 

And  what  does  else  want  credit,  come  to  me, 
And  I'll  be  sworn  'tis  true :  Travellers  ne'er  did 
lie,8 


6  A  living  drollery:]  Shows,  called  drolleries,  were  in  Shak- 
speare's  time  performed  by  puppets  only.  From  these  our  mo- 
dern drolls,  exhibited  at  fairs,  &c.  took  their  name.  So,  in 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher's  Valentinian : 

"  I  had  rather  make  a  drollery  till  thirty."     Steevens. 

A  living  drollery,  i.  e.  a  drollery  not  represented  by  wooden 
machines,  but  by  personages  who  are  alive.     Malone. 

7 one  tree,  the  phoenix'  throne ;]  For  this  idea,  our  author 

might  have  been  indebted  to  Phil.  Holland's  Translation  of  Pliny, 
B.  XIII.  chap.  4  :  "  I  myself  verily  have  heard  straunge  things  of 
this  kind  of  tree ;  and  namely  in  regard  of  the  bird  Phcenix, 
which  is  supposed  to  have  taken  that  name  of  this  date  tree  ; 
[called  in  Greek,  tpoivi%]  ;  for  it  was  assured  unto  me,  that  the 
said  bird  died  with  that  tree,  and  revived  of  itselfe  as  the  tree 
sprung  again."     Steevens. 

Again,  in  one  of  our  author's  poems,  p.  732,  edit.  1/78: 
"  Let  the  bird  of  loudest  lay, 
"  On  the  sole  Arabian  tree,"  &c. 
Our  poet  had  probably  Lyly's  Euphues,  and  his  England, 
particularly  in  his  thoughts :  signat.  Q  3. — "  As  there  is  but 
one  phcenix  in  the  world,  so  is  there  but  one  tree  in  Arabia  where- 
in she  buildeth."     See  also,  Florio's  Italian  Dictionary,  159S: 
"  Rasin,  a  tree  in  Arabia,  whereof  there  is  but  one  found,  and 
upon  it  the  phcenix  sits."     Malone. 

8  And  I'll  be  sworn  'tis  true  :  Travellers  ne'er  did  lie,]  I  sup- 
pose this  redundant  line  originally  stood  thus : 

"  And  I'll  be  sworn  to't :  Travellers  ne'er  did  lie — ." 
Hanmer  reads,  as  plausibly : 

"  And  I'll  be  sworn  'tis  true.     Travellers  ne'er  lied." 

Steevens. 


sen,  TEMPEST.  113 

Though  fools  at  home  condemn  them. 

Gox.  If  in  Naples 

I  should  report  this  now,  would  they  believe  me? 
If  I  should  say,  I  saw  such  islanders,9 
(For,  certes,1  these  are  people  of  the  island,) 
Who,  though  they  are  of  monstrous  shape,  yet,  note, 
Their  manners  are  more  gentle-kind,2  than  of 
Our  human  generation  you  shall  find 
Many,  nay,  almost  any. 

Pro.  Honest  lord, 

Thou  hast  said  well ;  for  some  of  you  there  present, 
Are  worse  than  devils.  [Aside. 

Alox.  I  cannot  too  much  muse,3 

Such  shapes,  such  gesture,  and  such  sound,  express- 
ing 
(Although  they  want  the  use  of  tongue,)  a  kind 
Of  excellent  dumb  discourse. 

Pro.  Praise  in  departing.4 

[Aside. 

such  islanders,]   The  old  copy  has  islands.    The  emen- 


dation  was  made  by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio.     Malone. 

'  For,  certes,  &c]   Certes  is  an  obsolete  word,  signifying  cer- 
tainty.    So,  in  Othello  t 

" certes,  says  he, 

"  I  have  already  chose  my  officer."     Steevens. 

Their  manners  are  more  gentle-kind,]  The  old  copy  has — 
"  gentle,  kind — ."  1  read  (in  conformity  to  a  practice  of  our 
author,  who  delights  in  such  compound  epithets,  of  which  the 
hr.st  adjective  is  to  be  considered  as  an  adverb,)  gentle-kind. 
Thus,  in  A'.  Richard  III.  we  have  childish^foolish,  senseless-obsti- 
nate, and  mortal-staring.     Steevens. 

3  too  much  muse,]   To  muse,  in  ancient  language,  is  to 

admire,  to  wonder. 

So,  in  Macbeth  : 

"  Do  not  muse  at  me,  my  most  worthy  friends." 

Steevens. 

4  Praise  in  departing.']  i.  e.  Do  not  praise  your  entertainment 
VOL.  IV.  I 


114  TEMPEST.  act  in. 

Fkax.  They  vanish'd  strangely. 

Seb.  No  matter,  since 

They  have  left  their  viands  behind ;  for  we  have 

stomachs. — 
Will't  please  you  taste  of  what  is  here  ? 

Alon.  Not  I. 

Gon.  Faith,  sir,  you  need  not  fear :  When  we 

were  boys, 
Who  would  believe  that  there  were  mountaineers,4 
Dew-lapp'd  like  bulls,  whose  throats  had  hanging 

at  them 
Wallets  of  flesh  ?  or  that  there  were  such  men, 
Whose  heads  stood  in  their  breasts?6  which  now 

we  find, 


too  soon,  lest  you  should  have  x-eason  to  retract  your  commenda- 
tion.    It  is  a  proverbial  saying. 

So,  in  The  Two  angry  Women  of  Abingdon,  1599 : 

"  And  so  she  doth ;  but  praise  your  luck  at  parting.1* 
Again,  in  Tom  Tyler  and  his  Wife,  l66l. 
"  Now  praise  at  thy  part ing." 
Stephen  Gosson,  in  his  pamphlet  entitled,  Playes  confuted  in 
five  Actions,  &c.  (no  date)  acknowledges  himself  to  have  been 
the  author  of  a  morality  called,  Praise  at  Parting.     Steevens. 

5  that  there  were  mountaineers,  fyc.~\  Whoever  is  curious 

to  know  the  particulars  relative  to  these  mountaineers,  may  con- 
sult Maundeville's  Travels,  printed  in  1503,  by  Wynken  de 
Worde  ;  but  it  is  yet  a  known  truth  that  the  inhabitants  of  the 
Alps  have  been  long  accustomed  to  such  excrescences  or  tumours. 
Quis  tumidum  guttur  miratur  in  Alpibus?       Steevens. 


Whose  heads  stood  in  their  breasts  f)  Our  author  might  have 
had  this  intelligence  likewise  from  the  translation  of  Pliny,  B.  V. 
chap.  8 :  "  The  Blemmyi,  by  report,  have  no  heads,  but  mouth 
and  eies  both  in  their  breasts."     Steevens. 

Or  he  might  have  had  it  from  Hackluyt's  Voyages,  1598:  "  On 
that  branch  which  is  called  Caora  are  a  nation  of  people,  whose 
heads  appear  not  above  their  shoulders.  They  are  reported  to 
have  their  eyes  in  their  shoulders,  and  their  mouths  in  the  middle 
of  their  breasts."    Malone. 


sen.  TEMPEST.  115 

Each  putter- out  on  five  for  one,7  will  bring  us 
Good  warrant  of. 

Alox.  I  will  stand  to,  and  feed, 

Although  my  last :  no  matter,  since  I  feel 


7  Each  putter-oat  &c."]  The  ancient  custom  here  alluded  to 
was  this.  In  this  age  of  travelling,  it  was  a  practice  with  those 
who  engaged  in  long  and  hazardous  expeditions,  to  place  out  a 
sum  of  money  on  condition  of  receiving  great  interest  for  it  at  their 
return  home.  So,  Puntarvolo,  (it  is  Theobald's  quotation,)  in 
Ben  Jonson's  Every  Man  out  of  his  Humour:  "  I  do  intend, 
this  year  of  jubilee  coming  on,  to  travel ;  and  (because  I  will  not 
altogether  go  upon  expence)  I  am  determined  to  put  some  Jive 
thousand  pound,  to  be  paid  me  Jive  for  one,  upon  the  return  of 
my  wife,  myself,  and  my  dog,  from  the  Turk's  court  in  Constan- 
tinople." 

To  this  instance  I  may  add  another  from  The  Ball,  a  comedy, 
by  Chapman  and  Shirley,  l6dg  : 

"  I  did  most  politickly  disburse  my  sums 
"  To  have  fve  for  one  at  my  return  from  Venice." 
Again,  in  Amends  for  Ladies,  103y: 

"  I  would  I  had  put  out  something  upon  my  return ; 
"  I  had  as  lieve  be  at  the  Bermoothes." 
"  —  on  five  for  one"  means  on  the  terms  of  Jive  for  one.  So, 
in  Barnaby  Riche's  Faults,  and  nothing  but  Faults,  1607 : 
"  —  those  whipsters,  that  having  spent  the  greatest  part  of  their 
patrimony  in  prodigality,  will  give  out  the  rest  of  their  stocke,  to 
be  paid  tivo  or  three  for  one,  upon  their  return  from  Rome," 
&c.  &c.     Steevens. 

Each  putter-oid  on  five  for  one,~\  The  old  copy  has  : 

" of  five  for  one." 

I  believe  the  words  are  only  transposed,  and  that  the  author 
wrote : 

"  Each  putter-out  of  one  for  five" 
So,  in  The  Scourge  of  Folly,  by  J.  Davies  of  Hereford,  printed 
about  the  year  161 1: 

"  Sir  Solus  straight  will  travel,  as  they  say, 
"  And  given  out  one  for  three,  when  home  comes  he." 
It  appears  from  Moryson's  Itinerary,  1617,  Part  I.  p.  198, 
that  "  this  custom  of  giving  out  money  upon  these  adventures 
was  first  used  in  court,  and  among  noblemen  ;"  and  that  some 
years  before  his  book  was  published,  "  bankerouts,  stage-players, 
and  men  of  base  condition  had  drawn  it  into  contempt,"  by 
undertaking  journeys  merely  for  gain  upon  their  return.  Malone. 

I  2 


116  TEMPEST.  act  ni. 

The  best  is  past:8 — Brother,  my  lord  the  duke, 
Stand  to,  and  do  as  we. 


Thunder  and  lightning.  Enter  Ariel  like  a  harpy;9 
claps  his  wings  upon  the  table,  and,  with  a  quaint 
device,  the  banquet  vanishes.1 

Ari,  You  are  three  men  of  sin,  whom  destiny 


8  I  imll  stand  to,  and  feed, 

Although  my  last :  no  matter,  since  I  feel 
The  best  is  past :]  I  cannot  but  think  that  this  passage  was 
intended  to  be  in  a  rhyme,  and  should  be  printed  thus : 
"  /  will  stand  to  and  feed;  although  my  last, 
"  No  matter,  since  I  feel  the  best  is  past."     M.  Mason. 

9  Enter  Ariel  like  a  harpy ;  &c.~]  This  circumstance  is  taken 
from  the  third  book  of  the  JEneid  as  translated  by  Phaer,  bl.  1. 
4to.  1558 : 

"  ■ fast  to  meate  we  fall. 

"  But  sodenly  from  down  the  hills  with  grisly  fall  to  syght, 
^  The  harpies  come,  and  beating  wings  with  great  noys 

out  thei  shright, 
"  And  at  our  meate  they  snach  ;  and  with  their  clawes,"  &c. 
Milton,  Parad.  Reg.  B.  II.  has  adopted  the  same  imagery : 

" with  that 

"  Both  table  and  provisions  vanish'd  quite, 

"  With  sound  of  harpies'  wings,  and  talons  heard." 

Steevens. 

1 and,  with  a  quaint  device,  the  banquet  vanishes.']  Though 

I  will  not  undertake  to  prove  that  all  the  culinary  pantomimes  ex- 
hibited in  France  and  Italy  were  known  and  imitated  in  this 
kingdom,  I  may  observe  that  flying,  rising,  and  descending 
services  were  to  be  found  at  entertainments  given  by  the  Duke 
of  Burgundy,  &c.  in  J  453,  and  by  the  Grand  Duke  of  Tuscany 
in  1600,  &c.  See  M.  Le  Grand  D'Aussi's  Histoire  de  la  vie 
privee  des  Franqois,  Vol.  III.  p.  294,  &c.  Examples,  there- 
fore, of  machinery  similar  to  that  of  Shakspeare  in  the  present 
instance,  were  to  be  met  with,  and  perhaps  had  been  adopted 
on  the  stage,  as  well  as  at  public  festivals  here  in  England.  See 
my  note  on  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  Act.  V.  sc.  v.  from 


sc.il  TEMPEST.  117 

(That  hath  to  instrument  this  lower  world,2 
And  what  is  in't,)  the  never-surfeited  sea 
Hath  caused  to  belch  up ;  and  on  this  island 
Where  man  doth  not  inhabit ;  you  'mongst  men 
Being  most  unfit  to  live.     I  have  made  you  mad ; 
[Seeing  Alon.  Seb.  §c.  draw  their  swords. 
And  even  with  such  like  valour,  men  hang  and 

drown 
Their  proper  selves.     You  fools !  I  and  my  fellows 
Are  ministers  of  fate ;  the  elements 
Of  whom^your  swords  are  temper'd,  may  as  well 
Wound  the  loud  winds,  or  with  bemock'd-at  stabs 
Kill  the  still-closing  waters,  as  diminish 
One  dowle  that's  in  my  plume;3  my  fellow-ministers 

whence  it  appears  that  a  striking  conceit  in  an  entertainment 
given  by  the  Vidame  of  Chartres,  had  been  transferred  to  another 
feast  prepared  in  England  as  a  compliment  to  Prince  Alasco, 
1583.     Steevens. 

*  That  hath  to  instrument  this  lower  world,  &c]  i.  e.  that 
makes  use  of  this  world,  and  everything  in  it,  as  its  instruments 
to  bring  about  its  ends.     Steevens. 

3  One  dowle  that's  in  my  plume;]  The  old  copy  exhibits  the 
passage  thus: 

"  One  dowle  that's  in  my  plumbc."  Corrected  by  Mr.  Rowe. 
Bailey,  in  his  Dictionary,  says,  that  dowle  is  a  feather,  or  rather 
the  single  particles  of  the  down. 

Since  the  first  appearance  of  this  edition,  my  very  industrious 
and  learned  correspondent,  Mr.  Toilet,  of  Betley,  in  Stafford- 
shire, has  enabled  me  to  retract  a  too  hasty  censure  on  Bailey,  to 
whom  we  were  long  indebted  for  our  only  English  Dictionary. 
In  a  small  book,  entitled  Humane  Industry:  or,  A  History  of 
mo  t  Manual  Arts,  printed  in  1601,  page  y3,  is  the  following 
pa  sage:  "  The  wool-bearing  trees  in  ^Ethiopia,  which  Virgil 
speaks  of,  and  the  Eriophori  Arbores  in  Theopkrastus,  are  not. 
such  trees  as  have  a  certain  wool  or  uowj,  upon  the  outside  of 
them,  as  the  small  cotton  ;  but  short  trees  that  bear  a  ball  upon 
the  top,  pregnant  with  wool,  which  the  Syrians  call  Cott,  the 
Grecians  Gossypium,  the  Italians  Bombagio,  and  we  Bombase," 
— "  There  is  a  certain  shell-fish  in  the  sea,  called  Pinna,  that 


118  TEMPEST.  act  in. 

Are  like  invulnerable:4  if  you  could  hurt, 
Your  swords  are  now  too  massy  for  your  strengths, 
And  will  not  be  uplifted :  But,  remember, 
(For  that's  my  business  to  you,)  that  you  three 
From  Milan  did  supplant  good  Prospero ; 
Expos'd  unto  the  sea,  which  hath  requit  it, 
Him,  and  his  innocent  child :  for  which  foul  deed 
The  powers,  delaying,  not  forgetting,  have 
Incens'd  the  seas  and  shores,  yea,  all  the  creatures, 
Against  your  peace:  Thee,  of  thy  son,  Alonso, 
They  have  bereft ;  and  do  pronounce  by  me, 
Ling'ring  perdition  (worse  than  any  death 
Can  be  at  once,)  shall  step  by  step  attend 
You,  and  your  ways ;  whose  wraths  to  guard  you 

from 
(Which  here,  in  this  most  desolate  isle,  else  falls 


bears  a  mossy  dowl,  or  wool,  whereof  cloth  was  spun  and 
made." — Again,  p.  g5  :  "  Trichitis,  or  the  hayrie  stone,  by  some 
Greek  authors,  and  Alumen  plumaceum,  or  downy  alum,  by  the 
Latinists :  this  hair  or  dowl  is  spun  into  thread,  and  weaved  into 
cloth."  I  have  since  discovered  the  same  word  in  The  Plough' 
man's  Tale,  erroneously  attributed  to  Chaucer,  v.  3202 : 
"  And  swore  by  cock  'is  herte  and  blode, 
"  He  would  tere  him  every  doule."     Steevens. 

Cole  in  his  Latin  Dictionary,  1679,  interprets  "  young  dowle" 
by  lanugo.     Malone. 

4 the  elements 

Of  whom  your  swoids  are  tempered,  may  as  well 
Wound  the  loud  winds,  or  with  bemocPd-at  stabs 
Kill  the  still-closing  waters,  as  diminish 
One  dowle  thafs  in  my  plume;  my  fellow  ministers 
Are  like  invulnerable:]   So,  in  Phaer's  Virgil,  1573: 

"  Their  swords  by  them  they  laid — 

"  And  on  the  filthy  birds  they  beat — 

"  But  /ethers  none  do  from  them  fal,  nor  wound  for  strok 
doth  bleed, 

"  Nor  force  of  weapons  hurt  them  can."     Ritson. 


sen.  TEMPEST.  119 

Upon  your  heads,)  is  nothing,  but  heart's  sorrow, 
And  a  clear  life6  ensuing.0 


He  "vanishes  in  thunder:  then,  to  soft  musiclc,  enter 
the  Shapes  again,  and  dance  with  mops  and  mowes7 
and  carry  out  the  table. 

Pro.  [Aside.']  Bravely  the  figure  of  this  harpy 
hast  thou 
Perform'd,  my  Ariel ;  a  grace  it  had,  devouring: 
Of  my  instruction  hast  thou  nothing  'bated, 
In  what  thou  hadst  to  say:  so,  with  good  life,8 

5   '        clear  life — ]  Pure,  blameless,  innocent.     Johnson. 

So,  in  Timon :  "  —  roots  you  clear  heavens."     Steevens. 

*  — —  is  nothing,  but  heart's  sorrow, 
And  a  clear  life  ensuing.']    The  meaning,  which  is  some- 
what obscured  by  the  expression,  is, — a  miserable  fate,  which  no* 
ihing  but  contrition  and  amendment  of  life  can  avert. 

Malone. 

7  i with  mops  and  mowes — ]  So,  in  K.  Lear: 

" and  Flibbertigibbet  of  mopping  and  mowing." 

Steevens. 

The  old  copy,  by  a  manifest  error  of  the  press,  reads — with 
mocks.     So  afterwards :  "  Will  be  here  with  mop  and  mowe." 

Malone. 

To  mock  and  to  mowe,  seem  to  have  had  a  meaning  some- 
what similar  ;  i.  e.  to  insult,  by  making  mouths,  or  wry  faces. 

Steevens. 

8 with  good  life,]   With  good  life  may  mean,  with  exact 

presentation  of  their  several  characters,  with  observation  strange 
of  their  particular  and  distinct  parts.  So  we  say,  he  acted  to 
the  life.    Johnson. 

Thus  in  the  6th  Canto  of  the  Barons'*  Wars,  by  Drayton: 
"  Done  for  the  last  with  such  exceeding  life, 
"  As  art  therein  with  nature  seem'd  at  strife." 

Again,  in  our  author's  King  Henry  VIII.  Act.  I.  sc.  i: 

" the  tract  of  every  thing 

"  Would  by  a  good  discourse!  lose  some  life, 
**  Which  action's  self  was  tongue  to." 


120  TEMPEST.  act  in. 

And  observation  strange,  my  meaner  ministers 
Their  several  kinds  have  done:9  my  high  charms 

work, 
And  these,  mine  enemies,  are  all  knit  up 
In  their  distractions:  they  now  are  in  my  power  ; 
And  in  these  fits  I  leave  them,  whilst  I  visit 
Young  Ferdinand,  (whom  they  suppose  is  drown'd,) 
And  his  and  my  loved  darling. 

\_Exit  Prospero  from  above. 

Gon.  V  the  name  of  something  holy,  sir,  why 
stand  you 
In  this  strange  stare  ? 


Good  life,  however,  in  Twelfth  Night,  seems  to  be  used  for 
innocent  jollity,  as  we  now  say  a  bon  vivant :  "  Would  you  (says 
the  Clffam)  have  a  love  song,  or  a  song  of  good  life?"  Sir  Toby 
answers,  "  A  love  song,  a  love  song;" — "  Ay,  ay,  (replies  Sir 
Andrew, )  I  care  not  for  good  life."  It  is  plain,  from  the  cha- 
racter of  the  last  speaker,  that  he  was  meant  to  mistake  the  sense 
in  which  good  life  is  used  by  the  Clotvn.  It  may,  therefore,  in 
the  present  instance,  mean,  honest  alacrity,  or  cheerfulness. 

Life  seems  to  be  used  in  the  chorus  to  the  fifth  act  of  K.  Hen- 
ry V.  with  some  meaning  like  that  wanted  to  explain  the  appro- 
bation of  Prospero : 

"  Which  cannot  in  their  huge  and  proper  life 

"  Be  here  presented." 
The  same  phrase  occurs  yet  more  appositely  in  Chapman's 
translation  of  Homer's  Hymn  to  Apollo: 

"  And  these  are  acted  with  such  exquisite  life, 

"  That  one  would  say,  Now  the  Ionian  strains 

"  Are  turn'd  immortals."     Steevens. 

To  do  any  thing  with  good  life,  is  still  a  provincial  expression 
in  the  West  of  England,  and  signifies,  to  do  it  with  the  full  bent 
and  energy  of  mind: — "  And  observation  strattge,"  is  with  such 
minute  attention  to  the  orders  given,  as  to  excite  admiration. 

Henley. 

'  Their  several  kinds  have  done :"]  i.  e.  have  discharged  the 
several  functions  allotted  to  their  different  natures.  Thus,  in 
Antony  and  Cleopatra,  Act  V.  sc.  ii.  the  Clown  says — "  You 
must  think  this,  look  you,  that  the  worm  will  do  his  kind." 

Steevens. 


sen.  TEMPEST.  121 

Alox.  O,  it  is  monstrous !  monstrous  ! 

Methought,  the  billows  spoke,  and  told  me  of  it ; 
The  winds  did  sing  it  to  me ;  and  the  thunder, 
That  deep  and  dreadful  organ-pipe,  pronounc'd 
The  name  of  Prosper;  it  did  bass  my  trespass.1 
Therefore  my  son  i'  the  ooze  is  bedded ;  and 
I'll  seek  him  deeper  than  e'er  plummet  sounded, 
And  with  him  there  lie  mudded.2  \_TLxit. 

Seb.  But  one  fiend  at  a  time, 

I'll  fight  their  legions  o'er. 

Ant,  I'll  be  thy  second. 

[Exeunt  Seb.  and  Ant. 

G.ox.  All  three  of  them  are  desperate;  their  great 
guilt, 
Like  poison  given3  to  work  a  great  time  after, 

1 bass  my  trespass.']  The  deep  pipe  told  it  me  in  a  rough 

bass  sound.     Johnson*. 

So,  in  Spenser's  Fairy  Queen,  B.  II.  c.  12: 

" the  rolling  sea  resounding  soft, 

"  In  his  big  base  them  fitly  answered."     Steevens. 

Again,  in  Davis's  Microcosmos,  1605,  p.  32 : 

"  The  singing  bullets  made  his  soul  rejoice 
"  As  musicke  that  the  hearing  most  alures; 
"  And  if  the  canons  bas'd  it  with  their  voice 
"  He  seemed  as  ravisht  with  an  heavenly  noise."    Reed. 
8  And  with  him  there  lie  mudded. 
But  one  fiend  — ]  As  these  bemistichs,  taken  together,  exceed 
the  proportion  of  a  verse,  I  cannot  help  regarding  the  words — 
•villi  him,  and  but,  as  playhouse  interpolations. 

The  Tempest  was  evidently  one  of  the  last  works  of  Shakspeare; 
and  it  is  therefore  natural  to  suppose  the  metre  of  it  must  have 
been  exact  and  regular.  Dr.  Farmer  concurs  with  me  in  this 
supposition.     Steevens. 

/  i  poison  given,  &c]  The  natives  of  Africa  have  been 
supposed  to  be  poss*  ssed  of  the  secret  how  to  temper  poisons  with 
such  art  as  not  to  operate  till  several  years  alter  they  were  ad- 
ministered. Their  drugs  were  then  as  certain  in  their  effect,  as 
I  ibtle  in  their  preparation.     So,  in  the  celebrated  libel  called 


122  TEMPEST.  activ: 

Now  'gins  to  bite  the  spirits : — I  do  beseech  you 
That  are  of  suppler  joints,  follow  them  swiftly, 
And  hinder  them  from  what  this  ecstacy 4 
May  now  provoke  them  to. 

Adr.  Follow,  I  pray  you. 

[Exeunt. 


ACT  IV.    SCENE  I. 

Before  Prospero's  Cell. 
Enter  Prospero,  Ferdinand,  and  Miranda. 

Pro.  If  I  have  too  austerely  punish'd  you, 
Your  compensation  makes  amends  ;  for  I 
Have  given  you  here  a  thread  of  mine  own  life,5 


Leicester's  Commonwealth  :  "  I  heard  him  once  myselfe  in  pub- 
lique  act  at  Oxford,  and  that  in  presence  of  my  lord  of  Leicester, 
maintain  that  poyson  might  be  so  tempered  and  given,  as  it  should 
not  appear  presently,  and  yet  should  kill  the  party  afterwards  at 
what  time  should  be  appointed."     Steevens. 

* this  ecstacy — ]  Ecstacy  meant  not  anciently,  as  at  pre- 
sent, rapturous  pleasure,  but  alienation  of  mind.  So,  in  Hamlet, 
Act  III.  sc.  iv: 

"  Nor  sense  to  ecstacy  was  e'er  so  thrall' d — ." 
Mr.  Locke  has  not  inelegantly  styled  it  dreaming  'with  our  eyes 
open.     Steevens. 

5 a  thread  of  mine  otvn  life,']  The  old  copy  reads — third. 

The  word  thread  was  formerly  so  spelt,  as  appears  from  the  fol- 
lowing passage : 

"  Long  maist  thou  live,  and  when  the  sisters  shall  decree 
"  To  cut  in  twaine  the  twisted  third  of  life, 
"  Then  let  him  die,"  &c. 
See  comedy  of  Mucedorus,  1C19,  signat.  C  3.     Hawkins. 

w  A  third  of  mine  own  life"  is  ajibre  or  a  part  of  my  own 


sc.  I.  TEMPEST.  123 

Or  that  for  which  I  live ;  whom  once  again 

I  tender  to  thy  hand :  all  thy  vexations 

Were  but  my  trials  of  thy  love,  and  thou 

Hast  strangely  stood  the  test  :6  here,  afore  Heaven, 

I  ratify  this  my  rich  gift.     O  Ferdinand, 

Do  not  smile  at  me,  that  I  boast  her  off, 

For  thou  shalt  find  she  will  outstrip  all  praise, 

And  make  it  halt  behind  her. 

Fer.  I  do  believe  it, 

Against  an  oracle. 


life.  Prospero  considers  himself  as  the  stock  or  parent-tree,  and 
his  daughter  as  a  fibre  or  portion  of  himself,  and  for  whose  bene- 
fit he  himself  lives.  In  this  sense  the  word  is  used  in  Markham's 
English  Husbandman,  edit.  lfi>35,  p.  146:  "  Cut  off  all  the 
maine  rootes,  within  half  a  foot  of  the  tree,  only  the  small 
thriddes  or  twist  rootes  you  shall  not  cut  at  all."  Again,  ibid : 
«'  Every  branch  and  thrid  of  the  root."  This  is  evidently  the 
same  word  as  thread,  which  is  likewise  spelt  thrid  by  Lord  Bacon. 

TOLLET. 

So,  in  Lingua,  &c.  1607 ;  and  I  could  furnish  many  more 
instances : 

"  For  as  a  subtle  spider  closely  sitting 
"  In  center  of  her  web  that  spreadeth  round, 
"  If  the  least  fly  but  touch  the  smallest  thirdt 
"  She  feels  it  instantly." 
The  following  quotation,  however,  should  seem  to  place  the 
meaning  beyond  all  dispute.      In  Acolastus,  a  comedy,  1540,  is 
this  passage : 

"  — one  of  worldly  shame's  children,  of  his  countenance,  and 
THREDE  of  his  body."     Steevens. 

Again,  in   Tancred  and  Gisivund,  a  tragedy,  1592,  Tancred, 
speaking  of  his  intention  to  kill  his  daughter,  says: 
"  Against  all  law  of  kinde,  to  shred  in  twaine 
"  The  golden  tkreede  that  doth  71s  both  maintain." 

Malone. 

6 strangely  stood  the  test .]  Strangely  is  used  by  way  of 

commendation,  nicrvcil/a/scnient,  to  a  Wonder  ;  the  same  is  the 
sense  in  the  foregoing  scene.     Johnson. 

i.  e.  in  the  last  scene  of  the  preceding  act : 

" with  good  life 

"  And  observation  strange — ."     Steevens. 


124  TEMPEST.  act  iv. 

Pro.  Then,  as  my  gift, and  thine  own  acquisition7 
Worthily  purchas'd,  take  my  daughter :  But 
If  thou  dost  break  her  virgin  knot8  before 
All  sanctimonious  ceremonies9  may 
With  full  and  holy  rite  be  minister'd, 
No  sweet  aspersion1  shall  the  heavens  let  fall 
To  make  this  contract  grow ;  but  barren  hate, 
Sour-ey'd  disdain,  and  discord,  shall  bestrew 
The  union  of  your  bed  with  weeds  so  loathly, 
That  you  shall  hate  it  both :  therefore,  take  heed, 
As  Hymen's  lamps  shall  light  you. 

Fer.  As  I  hope 

For  quiet  days,  fair  issue,  and  long  life, 
With  such  love  as  'tis  now ;  the  murkiest  den, 
The  most  opportune  place,  the  strong'st  suggestion 


7  Then,  as  my  gift,  and  thine  otvn  acquisition — ]    My  guest, 
Jirst  folio.     Rowe  first  read — gift.    Johnson. 

A  similar  thought  occurs  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra  ; 

'" /  send  him 

"  The  greatness  he  has  got."     Steevens. 

8 her  virgin   knot  — ]  The  same  expression  occurs  in 

Pericles  Prince  of  Tyre,  1609: 

"  Untide  I  still  my  virgin  knot  will  keepe."     Steevens. 

0  If  thou  dost  break  her  virgin  knot  before 

All  sanctimonious  ceremonies  &c]  This,  and  the  passage  in 
Pericles  Prince  of  Tyre,  are  manifest  allusions  to  the  zones  of  the 
ancients,  which  were  worn  as  guardians  of  chastity  by  marriage- 
able young  women.  "  Puellse,  contra,  nondum  viripotentes, 
hujusmodi'  zonis  non  utebantur :  quod  videlicet  immaturis  vir- 
gunculis  nullum,  aut  certe  minimum,  a  corruptoribus  periculum 
immineret :  quas  proptereavocabantaju-jrpoy^,  nempe  disciyictas." 
There  is  a  passage  in  Nonnus,  which  will  sufficiently  illustrate 
Prospero's  expression. 

Kovpy]$  5'  sfyvs  mays'  y.ai  aTps^ag  ctapov  spu<rtya$ 

Asspov  a<rv\7)roio  <pvXa,>tlopa,  yuaalo  [hirpv\s 

ieiSo^svr)  TfaXay.rj,  pj  -mapQsvov  vitvog  sawr).     Henley. 

1  No  stveet  aspersion  — ]  Aspersion  is  here  used  in  its  primitive 
sense  of  sprinkling.  At  present  it  is  expressive  only  of  calumny 
and  detraction.     Steevens. 


sc.  i.  TEMPEST.  125 

Our  worser  Genius  can,  shall  never  melt 

Mine  honour  into  lust ;  to  take  away 

The  edge  of  that  day's  celebration, 

Allien  I  shall  think,  or  Phoebus'  steeds  are  founder'd, 

Or  night  kept  chain'd  below.2 

Pro.  Fairly  spoke  :3 

Sit  then,  and  talk  with  her,  she  is  thine  own. — 
What,  Ariel j  my  industrious  servant  Ariel! 


Enter  Ariel. 

Art.  What  would  my  potent  master  ?  here  I  am. 

Pro.  Thou  and  thy  meaner  fellows  your  last 
service 
Did  worthily  perform  ;  and  I  must  use  you 
In  such  another  trick :  go,  bring  the  rabble,4 
O'er  whom  I  give  thee  power,  here,  to  this  place : 
Incite  them  to  quick  motion ;  for  I  must 
Bestow  upon  the  eyes  of  this  young  couple 
Some  vanity  of  mine  art;5  it  is  my  promise, 


s  When  I  shall  think,  or  Phoebus'  steeds  are  founder 'd, 
Or  night  kept  chain'd  below.']  A  similar  train  of  ideas  occur 
in  the  23d  Book  of  Homer's  Odyssey,  thus  translated  by  Chap- 
man : 

" she  th'  extended  night 

"  With-held  in  long  date ;  nor  would  let  the  light 
"  Her  wing'd-hoof  horse  join  :  Lampus,  Phaeton, 
"  Those  ever  colts,  that  bring  the  morning  on 
"  To  worldly  men."     Steevens. 

3  Fairly  spoke:]  Fairly  is  here  used  as  a  trisyllable.  Steevens. 

4 the  rabble,]  The  crew  of  meaner  spirits.     Johnson. 

*  Some  vanity  of  mine  art ;]  So,  in  the  imprinted  romance  of 
EMARE,  quoted  by  Mr.  Warton  in  bis  dissertation  on  the  G'esta 
Romanorum,  (a  Prefix  to  tbe  third  Vol.  of  the  History  of  En- 
glish Poetry): 


126  TEMPEST.  act  zr. 

And  they  expect  it  from  me. 

Ari.  Presently  ? 

Pro.  Ay,  with  a  twink. 

Ari.  Before  you  can  say,  Come,  and  go, 
And  breathe  twice ;  and  cry,  so,  so  ; 
Each  one,  tripping  on  his  toe,c 
Will  be  here  with  mop  and  mowe  : 
Do  you  love  me,  master  ?  no. 

Pro.  Dearly,  my  delicate  Ariel :   Do  not  ap- 
proach, 
Till  thou  dost  hear  me  call. 

Ari.  Well  I  conceive.  \_Exit. 

Pro.  Look,  thou  be  true  ;  do  not  give  dalliance 
Too  much  the  rein  ;  the  strongest  oaths  are  straw 
To  the  fire  i'  the  blood :  be  more  abstemious, 
Or  else,  good  night,  your  vow ! 

Fer.  I  warrant  you,  sir ; 

The  white-cold  virgin  snow  upon  my  heart 
Abates  the  ardour  of  my  liver. 

Pro.  Well.— 

Now  come,  my  Ariel ;  bring  a  corollary,7 


"  The  emperour  said  on  hygh, 
"  Sertes,  thys  is  a  fayry, 
"  Or  ellys  a  vanite." 
i.  e.  an  illusion.     Steevens. 

6 Come,  and  go, 

Each  one,  tripping  on  his  toe,~\  So,  in  Milton's  U Allegro, 
v.  33 : 

"  Come,  and  trip  it  as  you  go 

"  On  the  light  fantastic  toe."     Steevens. 


7 bring  a  corollary,]  That  is,  bring  more  than  are  suffi- 
cient, rather  than  fail  for  want  of  numbers.  Corollary  means 
surplus.  Corolaire,  Fr.  See  Cotgrave's  Dictionary.     Steevens. 


ac.  /.  TEMPEST.  127 

Rather  than  want  a  spirit;  appear,  and  pertly. — 
No  tongue ; 8  all  eyes  j  be  silent.         \_Sqft  musick. 

A  Masque.     Enter  Iris. 

Iris.  Ceres,  most  bounteous  lady,  thy  rich  leas 
Of  wheat,  rye,  barley,  vetches,  oats,  and  pease ; 
Thy  turfy  mountains,  where  live  nibbling  sheep, 
And  flat  meads  thatch'd  with  stover,9  them  to  keep ; 
Thy  banks  with  peonied  and  lilied  brims,1 
Which  spongy  April  at  thy  best  betrims, 


8  No  tongue ;]  Those  who  are  present  at  incantations  are 
obliged  to  be  strictly  silent,  "  else"  as  we  are  afterwards  told, 
"  the  spell  is  marred."     Johnson. 

9 thatch'd  tvith  stover,]    Stover  (in  Cambridgeshire  and 

other  counties)  signifies  hay  made  of  coarse,  rank  grass,  such 
as  even  cows  will  not  eat  while  it  is  green.  Stover  is  likewise 
used  as  thatch  for  cart-lodges,  and  other  buildings  that  deserve 
but  rude  and  cheap  coverings. 

The  word  occurs  in  the  25th  Song  of  Drayton's  Polyolbion  : 
"  To  draw  out  sedge  and  reed,  for  thatch  and  stover  fit." 
Again,  in  his  Muses'  Elyzium  : 

"  Their  browse  and  stover  waxing  thin  and  scant." 

Steevens. 

1  Thy  banks  tvith  peonied  and  lilied  brims,']   The  old  edition 
reads  pioned  and  tivilled  brims,  which  gave  rise  to  Mr.  Holt's 
conjecture,  that  the  poet  originally  wrote : 
"      '  ■■  with  pioned  and  tilled  brims." 

Peonied  is  the  emendation  of  Hanmer. 

Spenser  and  the  author  of  Muleasses  the  Turk,  a  tragedy, 
l6l0,  use  pioning  for  digging.  It  is  not  therefore  difficult  to 
find  a  meaning  for  the  word  as  it  stands  in  the  old  copy  ;  and  re- 
move a  letter  from  tivilled,  and  it  leaves  us  tilled.  I  am  yet, 
however,  in  doubt  whether  we  ought  not  to  read  lilied  brims ; 
for  Pliny,  B.  XXVI.  ch.  x.  mentions  the  water-lily  as  a  preserver 
of  chastity  ;  and  says,  elsewhere,  that  the  Peony  medetur  Fauno- 
rum  in  Qiiiete  Ludibriis,  &c.  In  a  poem  entitled  The  Herring's 
Tai/le,  4to.  1598,  "the  mayden  pinny"  is  introduced.  In  the 
Arruignement  of  Paris,  1584,  are  mentioned: 

"  The  watry  flow'rs  and  Hides  of  the  banks." 


128  TEMPEST.  act  ir. 

To  make  cold  nymphs,  chaste  crowns;   and  thy 

broom  groves,2 
Whose  shadow  the  dismissed  bachelor  loves, 


And  Edward  Fenton  in  his  Secrete  Wonders  of  Nature,  4to. 
B.  VI.  156*9,  asserts,  that  "the  water-lily  mortifieth  altogether 
the  appetite  of  sensualitie,  and  defends  from  unchaste  thoughts 
and  dreames  of  venery." 

In  the  20th  song  of  Drayton's  Polyolbion,  the  Naiades  are  re- 
presented as  making  chaplets  with  all  the  tribe  of  aquatic  flowers ; 
and  Mr.  Toilet  informs  me,  that  Lyte's  Herbal  says,  "  one  kind 
of  peonie  is  called  by  some,  maiden  or  virgin  peonie." 

In  Ovid's  Banquet  of  Sense,  by  Chapman,  1595,  I  meet  with 
the  following  stanza,  in  which  twill-pants  are  enumerated  among 
flowers : 

"  White  and  red  jasmines,  merry,  melliphill, 
"  Fair  crown  imperial,  emperor  of  flowers ; 
"  Immortal  amaranth,  white  aphrodill, 

"  And  cup-like  twill-pants  strew'd  in  Bacchus'  bowers." 
If  twill  be  the  ancient  name  of  any  flower,  the  old  reading, 
pioned  and  twilled,  may  stand.     Steevens. 

Mr.  War  ton,  in  his  notes  upon  Milton,  after  silently  acquiescing 
in  the  substitution  of  pionied  for  pioned,   produces  from   the 
Arcades  "  Ladon's  Hilled  banks,"  as  an  example  to  countenance 
a  further  change  of  twilled  to  lillied,  which,  accordingly,  Mr. 
Rann  hath  foisted  into  the  text.    But  before  such  a  licence  is  al- 
lowed, may  it  not  be  asked — If  the  word  pionied  can  any  where 
be  found  ? — or  (admitting  such  a  verbal  from  peony,  like  Milton's 
lillied  from  lily,  to  exist,)— On  the  banks  of  what  river  do  peonies 
grow? — Or  (if  the  banks  of  any  river  should  be  discovered  to 
yield  them )  whether  they  and  the  lilies  that,  in  common  with 
them,  betrim  those  banks,  be  the  produce  of  spongy  April  ? — 
Or,  whence  it  can  be  gathered  that  Iris  here  is  at  all  speaking  of 
the  banks  of  a  river? — and,  whether,  as  the  bank  in  question  is 
the  property,  not  of  a  water-nymph,  but  of  Ceres,  it  is  not  to 
be  considered  as  an  object  of  her  care  ? — Hither  the  goddess  of 
husbandry  is  represented  as  resorting,  because  at  the  approach  of 
spring,  it  becomes  needful  to  repair  the  banks  (or  mounds)  of 
the  jiat  meads,  whose  grass  not  only  shooting  over,  but  being 
more  succulent  than  that  of  the  turfy  mountains,  would,  for  want 
of  precaution,  be  devoured,  and  so  the  intended  stover  [hay,  or 
•winter  keep,~]  with  which  these  meads  are  proleptically  described 
as  thatched,  be  lost. 

The  giving  way  and  caving  in  of  the  brims  of  those  banks. 


sc.i.  TEMPEST.  129 

Being  lass-lorn  ;3  thy  pole-clipt  vineyard  ;4 
And  thy  sea-marge,  steril,  and  rocky-hard, 


occasioned  by  the  heats,  rains,  and  frosts  of  the  preceding  year, 

are  made  good,  by  opening  the  trenches  from  whence  the  banks 

themselves  were  at  first  raised,  and  facing  them  up  afresh  with 

the  mire  those  trenches  contain.     This  being  done,  the  brims  of 

the  banks  are,  in  the  poet's  language,  pioned  and  twilled. — Mr. 

Warton  himself,  in  a  note  upon  Comus,  hath  cited  a  passage  in 

which  pioners  are  explained  to  be  diggers  [rather  trenchers)  and 

Mr.  Steevens  mentions  Spenser  and  the  author  of  Muleasses,  as 

both  using  pioning  for  digging.     Twilled  is  obviously  formed 

from  the  participle  of  the  French  verb  toidller,  which  Cotgrave 

interprets  filthily  to  mix  or  mingle;  confound  or  shiifie  together ; 

bedirt;  begrime;  besmear: — significations  that  join  to  confirm 

the  explanation  here  given. 

This  bank  with  pioned  and  twilled  brims  is  described,  as 
trimmed ',  at  the  behest  of  Ceres,  by  spongy  April,  with  flowers, 
to  make  cold  nymphs  chaste  crowns.  These  flowers  were  neither 
peonies  nor  lilies,  for  they  never  blow  at  this  season,  but  "  lady- 
smocks  all  silver  white,"  which,  during  this  humid  month,  start 
up  in  abundance  on  such  banks,  and  thrive  like  oats  on  the  same 
kind  of  soil: — "  Avoine  touillee  croist  comme  enragee." — That 
OU  changes  into  W,  in  words  derived  from  the  French,  is  apparent 
in  cordvfainer,  from  cordoxxannier,  and  many  others.     Henley. 

Mr.  Henley's  note  contends  for  small  proprieties,  and  abounds 
with  minute  observation.     But  that  Shakspeare  was  no  diligent 
Botanist,  maybe  ascertained  from  his  erroneous  descriptions  of  a 
Cowslip,  (in  the  Tempest  and  Cymbeline,)  for  who  ever  heard  it 
characterized  as  a  bell-shaped  flower,  or  could  allow  the  drops  at 
the  bottom  of  it  to  be  of  a  crimson  hue?  With  equal  carelessness, 
or  want  of  information,  in    The  Winter's  Tale  he  enumerates 
"  lilies  of  all  kinds,'''  among  the  children  of  the  spring,  and  as 
contemporaries  with  the  daffodil,  the  primrose,  and  the  violet; 
and  in  his  celebrated  song,  (one  stanza  of  which  is  introduced  at 
the  beginning  of  the  fourth  act  of  Measure  for  Measure,)  he  talks 
of  Pinks,  "  that  April  wears."     It  might  be  added,   (it  we  must 
speak  by  the  card,)  that  wherever  there  is  a  bank  there  is  a  ditch; 
where  there  is  a  ditch  there  may  be  water;  and  where  there  is 
water  the  aquatic  lilies  may  flourish,  whether  the  bank  in  question 
belongs  to  a  river  or  a  field. — These  are  petty  remarks,  but  they 
are  occasioned  by  petty  cavils. — It  was  enough  for  our  author  that 
peonies  and  lilies  were  well  known  flowers,  and  he  placed  them 
on  any  bank,  and  produced  them  in  any  of  the  genial  months, 

VOL.  TV.  K 


130  TEMPEST.  act  iv. 

Where  thou  thyself  dost  air:  The  queen  o'  the  sky, 
Whose  watery  arch,  and  messenger,  am  I, 
Bids  thee  leave  these ;  and  with  her  sovereign  grace, 
Here  on  this  grass-plot,  in  this  very  place, 
To  come  and  sport:  her  peacocks  fly  amain; 
Approach,  rich  Ceres,  her  to  entertain. 

Enter  Ceres. 

Cer.  Hail,  many-colour'd  messenger,  that  ne'er 
Dost  disobey  the  wife  of  Jupiter; 

that  particularly  suited  his  purpose.  He  who  has  confounded  the 
customs  of  different  ages  and  nations,  might  easily  confound  the 
produce  of  the  seasons. 

That  his  documents  de  Re  Rustled  were  more  exact,  is  equally 
improbable.  Pie  regarded  objects  of  Agriculture,  &c.  in  the 
gross,  and  little  thought,  when  he  meant  to  bestow  some  orna- 
mental epithet  on  the  banks  appropriated  to  a  Goddess,  that  a 
future  critic  would  wish  him  to  say  their  brims  were  filthily 
mixed  or  mingled,  confounded  or  shuffled  together ;  bedirtea, 
begrimed,  and  besmeared.  Mr.  Henley,  however,  has  not  yet 
proved  the  existence  of  the  derivative  which  he  labours  to  intro- 
duce as  an  English  word ;  nor  will  the  lovers  of  elegant  de- 
scription wish  him  much  success  in  his  attempt.  Unconvinced, 
therefore,  by  his  strictures,  I  shall  not  exclude  a  border  of 
flowers  to  make  room  for  the  graces  of  the  spade,  or  what  Mr. 
Pope,  in  his  Dunciad,  has  styled  "  the  majesty  of  mud." 

Steevexs. 

and  thy  broom  groves,']  Broom,  in  this  place,  signifies 


the  Spartiwn  scoparium,  of  which  brooms  are  frequently  made. 
Near  Gamlingay  in  Cambridgeshire  it  grows  high  enough  to  con- 
ceal the  tallest  cattle  as  they  pass  through  it;  and  in  places  where 
it  is  cultivated  still  higher :  a  circumstance  that  had  escaped  my 
notice,  till  I  was  told  of  it  by  Professor  Martyn,  whose  name  I 
am  particularly  happy  to  insert  among  those  of  other  friends  who 
have  honoured  and  improved  this  work  by  their  various  commu- 
nications.    Steevexs. 

3  Being  lass-lorn;]      Lass-lorn   is   forsaken   of  his  mistress. 
So,  Spenser: 

"  Who  after  that  he  had  fair  Una  lorn.,i     Steevexs. 

thy  pole-dipt  vineyard;]  To  clip  is  to  twine  round  or 


embrace.     The  poles  are  clipped  or  embraced  by  the  vines.   Vine' 
yard  is  here  used  as  a  trisyllable.     Steevens. 


sc.i.  TEMPEST.  131 

Who,  with  thy  saffron  wings,  upon  my  flowers 
Diffusest  honey-drops,  refreshing  showers; 
And  with  each  end  of  thy  blue  bow  dost  crown 
My  bosky  acres,5  and  my  unshrubb'd  down, 
Rich  scarf  to  my  proud  earth ;  Why  hath  thy  queen 
Summon'd  me  hither,  to  this  short-grass'd-green?e 

Iris.  A  contract  of  true  love  to  celebrate ; 
And  some  donation  freely  to  estate 
On  the  bless'd  lovers. 

Cer.  Tell  me,  heavenly  bow, 

If  Venus,  or  her  son,  as  thou  dost  know, 
Do  now  attend  the  queen?  since  they  did  plot 
The  means,  that  dusky  Dis  my  daughter  got, 
Her  and  her  blind  boy's  scandal'd  company 
I  have  forsworn. 

Iris.  Of  her  society 

Be  not  afraid  ;  I  met  her  deity 
Cutting  the  clouds  towards  Paphos  ;  and  her  son 
Dove-drawn  with  her :  here  thought  they  to  have 

done 
Some  wanton  charm  upon  this  man  and  maid, 
Whose  vows  are,  that  no  bed-rite  shall  be  paid 
Till  Hymen's  torch  be  lighted  :  but  in  vain  ; 
Mars's  hot  minion  is  return'd  again: 


'  My  bosky  acres,  &c]  Bosky  is  woody.  Bosky  acres  are 
fields  divided  from  each  other  by  hedge-rows.  Boscus  is  middle 
Latin  for  mood.    Bosquet,  Fr.     So,  Milton: 

"  And  every  bosky  bourn  from  side  to  side." 
Again,  in  A".  Edward  I.  1599: 

"  Hale  him  from  hence,  and  in  this  bosky  wood 

"  Bury  liis  corps."     Steevens. 

" to  this  short-grass'd  green?]  The  old  copy  reads  short- 

'grafd  green.     Short-grazed  green  means  grazed  so  as  to  be  short. 
The  correction  was  made  by  Mr.  Howe.     Steevens. 

K  2 


132  TEMPEST.  act  ir. 

Her  waspish-headed  son  has  broke  his  arrows, 
Swears  he  will  shoot  no  more,  but  play  with  spar- 
rows, 
And  be  a  boy  right  out. 

Cer.  Highest  queen  of  state,7 

Great  Juno  comes;  I  know  her  by  her  gait. 

Enter  Juno. 

Jun.  How  does  my  bounteous  sister?  Go  withme, 
To  bless  this  twain,  that  they  may  prosperous  be, 
And  honour'd  in  their  issue. 

SONG. 

Juno.   Honour,  riches,  marriage-blessing, 
Long  continuance,  and  increasing, 
Hourly  joys  be  still  upon  you! 
Juno  sings  her  blessings  on  you. 


7  Highest  queen  of  state, 

Great  Juno  comes ;  I  know  her  by  her  gait .]  Mr.  Whalley 
thinks  this  passage  a  remarkable  instance  of  Shakspeare's  know- 
ledge of  ancient  poetic  story;  and  that  the  hint  was  furnished  by 
the  Divum  incedo  Regina  of  Virgil. 

John  Taylor,  the  water-poet,  declares,  that  he  never  learned 
his  Accidence,  and  that  Latin  and  French  were  to  him  Heathen 
Greek;  yet,  by  the  help  of  Mr.  Whalley's  argument,  I  will 
prove  him  a  learned  man,  in  spite  of  every  thing  he  may  say  to 
the  contrary:  for  thus  he  makes  a  gallant  address  his  lady; 
*'  Most  inestimable  magazine  of  beauty !  in  whom  the  port  and 
majesty  of  Juno,  the  wisdom  of  Jove's  brain-bred  girle,  and  the 
feature  of  Cytherea,  have  their  domestical  habitation."  Farmer. 

So,  in  The  Arraignement  of  Paris,  1584: 

"  First  statelie  Juno,  with  her  porte  and  grace." 

Chapman  also,  in  his  version  of  the  second  Iliad,  speaking  of 
Juno,  calls  her — 

"        ■  the  goddesse  of  estate."     Steevens. 


sc.  i.  TEMPEST.  133 

Cer.     Earth's  increase*  andfoison plenty? 
Barns,  and  garners  never  empty ; 
Vines,  with  clustering  bunches  growing} 
Plants,  with  goodly  burden  bowing ; 
Spring  conie  to  you,  at  the  farthest, 
In  the  very  end  of  harvest! 
Scarcity,  and  want,  shall  shun  you  ; 
Ceres'  blessing  so  is  on  you. 

Feu.  This  is  a  most  majestic  vision,  and 
Harmonious  charmingly : l  May  I  be  bold 

8  Earth's  increase,  and  foison  plenty,  &c]  All  the  editions, 
that  I  have  ever  seen,  concur  in  placing  this  whole  sonnet  to 
Juno ;  but  very  absurdly,  in  my  opinion.  I  believe  every  accu- 
rate reader,  who  is  acquainted  with  poetical  history,  and  the  dis- 
tinct offices  of  these  two  goddesses,  and  who  then  seriously  reads 
over  our  author's  lines,  will  agree  with  me,  that  Ceres's  name 
ought  to  have  been  placed  where  I  have  now  prefixed  it. 

Theobald. 

And  is  not  in  the  old  copy.  It  was  added  by  the  editor  of  the 
second  folio.  Earth's  increase,  is  the  produce  of  the  earth.  The 
expression  is  scriptural :  "  Then  shall  the  earth  bring  forth  her 
increase,  and  God,  even  our  God,  shall  give  us  his" blessing." 
Psalm  lxvii.     Ma  lone. 

This  is  one  among  a  multitude  of  emendations  which  Mr. 
Malone  acknowledges  to  have  been  introduced  by  the  editor  of 
the  second  folio ;  and  yet,  in  contradiction  to  himself  in  his 
Prolegomena,  he  depreciates  the  second  edition,  as  of  no  import- 
ance or  value.     Fenton. 

9 -foison  plenty  ;]   i.  e.  plenty  to  the  utmost  abundance  ; 

foison  signifying  plenty.     See  p.  66.     Steevens. 

1  Harmonious  charmingly  .•]  Mr".  Edwards  would  read: 
"  Harmonious  charming  lay." 
For  though  (says  he)  the  benediction  is  sung  by  two  goddesses, 
it  is  yet  but  one  lay  or  hymn,     i  believe,  however,  this  passage 
appears  as  it  was  written  by  the  poet,  who,  for  the  sake  of  the 
verse,  made  the  words  change  places. 

We  might  read  (transferring  the  last  syllable  of  the  second 
word  to  the  end  of  the  first)  "  Harmonious/,/  charming." 

Ferdinand  has  already  praised  this  aerial  Masque  as  an  object 
of  sight;  and  may  not  improperly  or  inelegantly  subjoin  that  the 


134  TEMPEST.  act  if. 

To  think  these  spirits  ? 

Pro.  Spirits,  which  by  mine  art 

I  have  from  their  confines  call'd  to  enact 
My  present  fancies. 

Fer.  Let  me  live  here  ever ; 

So  rare  a  wonder'd  father,2  and  a  wife, 
Make  this  place  Paradise. 

[Juno  and  Ceres  whisper,  and  send  Iris  on 
employment. 

Pro.  Sweet  now,  silence ; 

Juno  and  Ceres  whisper  seriously ; 
There's  something  else  to  do :  hush,  and  be  mute, 
Or  else  our  spell  is  marr'd. 

Iris.  You  nymphs,  call'd  Naiads,  of  the  wan- 
d'ring  brooks,3 
"With  your  sedg'd  crowns,  and  ever-harmless  looks, 
Leave  your  crisp  channels,4  and  on  this  green  land 
Answer  your  summons  ;  Juno  does  command : 
Come,  temperate  nymphs,  and  help  to  celebrate 
A  contract  of  true  love ;  be  not  too  late. 


charm  of  sound  was  added  to  that  of  visible  grandeur.  Both  Juno 
and  Ceres  are  supposed  to  sing  their  parts.     Steevens. 

A  similar  inversion  occurs  in  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  : 
"  But  miserable  most  to  live  unlov'd."     Malone. 

2 a  wonder'd  father,"]  i.  e.  a  father  able  to  perform  or 

produce  such  wonders.     Steevens. 

3 wand'ring  brooks,']  The  modern  editors  read — winding 

brooks.  The  old  copy — windring.     I  suppose  we  should  read — 
wand'ring,  as  it  is  here  printed.     Steevens. 

4  Leave  your  crisp  channels^]  Crisp,  i.  e.  curling,  winding, 
Lat.  crispils.  So,  Henry  IV.  Part  I.  Act  I.  sc.  iv.  Hotspur, 
speaking  of  the  river  Severn : 

"  And  hid  his  crisped  head  in  the  hollow  bank." 

Crisp,  however,  may  allude  to  the  little  wave  or  curl  (as  it  is 
commonly  called)  that  the  gentlest  wind  occasions  on  the  sur- 
face of  waters.     Steevens. 


sc.  z.  TEMPEST,  13.5 


Enter  certain  Nymphs. 

You  sun-burn'd  sicklemen,  of  August  weary, 
Come  hither  from  the  furrow,  and  be  merry ; 
Make  holy-day :  your  rye-straw  hats  put  on, 
And  these  fresh  nymphs  encounter  every  one 
In  country  footing. 

Enter  certain  Reapers,  properly  habited :  they  join 
with  the  Nymphs  in  a  graceful  dance ;  towards 
the  end  whereof  Prospero  starts  suddenly,  and 
speaks;  after  which,  to  a  strange,  hollow,  arid 
confused  noise,  they  heavily  vanish. 

Pro.  [aside. ,]  I  had  forgot  that  foul  conspiracy 
Of  the  beast  Caliban,  and  his  confederates, 
Against  my  life ;  the  minute  of  their  plot 
Is  almost  come. — \_To  the  Spirits.^  Well  done  ; — 
avoid ; — no  more. 


> 


Fer.   This  is  most  strange:5  your  father's  in 
some  passion 
That  works  him  strongly. 

MiRsL  Never  till  this  day, 

Saw  I  him  touch'd  with  anger  so  distemper'd. 

Pro.  You  do  look,  my  son,  in  a  mov'd  sort, 
As  if  you  were  dismay'd :  be  cheerful,  sir : 
Our  revels  now  are  ended :  these  our  actors, 
As  I  foretold  you,  were  all  spirits,  and 
Are  melted  into  air,  into  thin  air : 


1  This  is  most  strange :]  I  have  introduced  the  word — most, 
on  account  of  the  metre,  which  otherwise  is  defective. — In  the 
first  line  of  Prospero'e  next  speech  there  is  likewise  an  omission, 
but  I  have  not  ventured  to  supply  it.     Steevens. 


136  TEMPEST.  act  iv. 

And,  like  the  baseless  fabrick  of  this  vision,6 
The  cloud-capp'd  towers,  the  gorgeous  palaces, 
The  solemn  temples,  the  great  globe  itself, 
Yea,  all  which  it  inherit,7  shall  dissolve ; 
And,  like  this  insubstantial  pageant  faded,8 

6  And,  like  the  baseless  fabrick  of  this  vision,  &c]  The  exact 
period  at  which  this  play  was  produced  is  unknown  :  it  was  not, 
however,  published  before  1623.  In  the  year  16*03,  the  Tragedy 
of  Darius,  by  Lord  Sterline,  made  its  appearance,  and  there  I 
find  the  following  passage  : 

"  Let  greatness  of  her  glassy  scepters  vaunt, 

"  Not  scepters,  no,  but  reeds,  soon  bruis'd,  soon  broken ; 
"  And  let  this  worldly  pomp  our  wits  enchant, 

"  All  fades,  and  scarcely  leaves  behind  a  token. 
u  Those  golden  palaces,  those  gorgeous  halls, 

"  With  furniture  superfluously  fair, 
"  Those  stately  courts,  those  sky-encount'ring  walls, 
"  Evanish  all  like  vapours  in  the  air." 
Lord  Sterline 's  play  must  have  been  written  before  the  death 
of  Queen  Elizabeth,  (which  happened  on  the  24th  of  March, 
l603,)  as  it  is  dedicated  to  James  VI.  King  of  Scots. 

Whoever  should  seek  for  this  passage  (as  here  quoted  from  the 
4to.  1003)  in  the  folio  edition,  1637,  will  be  disappointed,  as 
Lord  Sterline  made  considerable  changes  in  all  his  plays,  after 
their  first  publication.     Steevens. 

7 all  tvhich  it  inherit,]   i.  e.  all  who  possess,  who  dwell 

upon  it.     So,  in  The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona  ; 

"  This,  or  else  nothing,  will  inherit  her."     Malone. 

8  And,  like  this  insubstantial  pageant  faded,]  Faded  means 
here— having  vanished  ;  from  the  Latin,  vado.  So,  in  Hamlet  ? 
"  It  faded  on  the  crowing  of  the  cock." 

To  feel  the  justice  of  this  comparison,  and  the  propriety  of  the 
epithet,  the  nature  of  these  exhibitions  should  be  remembered. 
The  ancient  English  pageants  were  shows  exhibited  on  the  recep- 
tion of  a  prince,  or  any  other  solemnity  of  a  similar  kind.  They 
were  presented  on  occasional  stages  erected  in  the  streets.  Origi- 
nally they  appear  to  have  been  nothing  more  than  dumb  shows ; 
but  before  the  time  of  our  author,  they  had  been  enlivened  by  the 
introduction  of  speaking  personages,  who  were  characteristically 
habited.  The  speeches  were  sometimes  in  verse  ;  and  as  the  pro- 
cession moved  forward,  the  speakers,  who  constantly  bore  some 
allusion  to  the  ceremony,  either  conversed  together  in  the  form 
of  a  dialogue,  or  addressed  the  noble  person  whose  presence  occa- 


t— 


sc.  l  TEMPEST.  137 

Leave  not  a  rack  behind:9  We  are  such  stuff 


sjoned  the  celebrity.  On  these  allegorical  spectacles  very  costly 
ornaments  were  bestowed.  See  Fabian,  II.  382.  Warton's  Hist, 
of  Poet.  II.  199,  202. 

The  well-known  lines  before  us  may  receive  some  illustration 
from  Stowe's  account  of  the  pageants  exhibited  in  the  year  1  oOi, 
(not  very  long  before  this  play  was  written,)  on  King  James,  his 
Queen,  &c.  passing  triumphantly  from  the  Tower  to  Westminster; 
on  which  occasion  seven  gates  or  arches  were  erected  in  different 
places  through  which  the  procession  passed. — Over  the  first  gate 
"  was  represented  the  true  likeness  of  all  the  notable  houses, 
Towers  and  steeples,  within  the  citie  of  London." — "  The  sixt 
arche  or  gate  of  triumph  was  erected  above  the  Conduit  in 
Fleete-Streete,  whereon  the  Globe  of  the  world  was  seen  to 
move,  &c.  At  Temple-bar  a  seaventh  arche  or  gate  was  erected, 
the  fore-front  whereof  was  proportioned  in  every  respect  like  a 
Temple,  being  dedicated  to  Janus,  &c. — The  citie  of  Westmin- 
ster, and  dutchy  of  Lancaster,  at  the  Strand  had  erected  the  in- 
vention of  a  Rainbow,  the  moone,  sunne,  and  starres,  advanced 
between  two  Pyramides,"  &c.     Annals,  p.  14-29,  edit.  1005. 

Malone. 

9  Leave  not  a  rack  behind:']  "  The  winds  (says  Lord  Bacon) 
which  move  the  clouds  above,  which  we  call  the  rack,  and  are 
not  perceived  below,  pass  without  noise."  I  should  explain  the 
word  rack  somewhat  differently,  by  calling  it  the  last  jleet'mg 
vestige  of  the  highest  clouds,  scarce  perceptible  on  account  of 
their  distance  and  tenuity.  What  was  anciently  called  the  rack, 
is  now  termed  by  sailors — the  scud. 

The  word  is  common   to  many  authors  contemporary  with 
Slutkspeare.     So,  in  the  Faithful  Shepherdess,  by  Fletcher: 

"  shall  I  stray 

"  In  the  middle  air,  and  stay 

"  The  sailing  rack." 

Again,  in  Datid  and  Bctlisabc,  1599: 

"  Beating  the  clouds  into  their  swiftest  rack." 
Again,  in  the  prologue  to  the  Three  Ladies  of  London,  158+ : 

"  We  list  not  ride  the  rolling  rack  that  dims  the  chrystal 
skies." 
Again,  in  Shakspeare's  33d  Sonnet : 

"  Anon  permits  the  basest  clouds  to  ride 

"  With  ugly  rack  on  his  celestial  face." 
Again,  in  Chapman's  version  of  the  twenty-first  Iliads 

"  the  cracke 

"  His  thunder  gives,  when  out  of  heaven  it  tear?  atwo 
his  racke." 


13S  TEMPEST.  act  iv. 

As  dreams  are  made  of,1  and  our  little  life 


Here  the  translator  adds,  in  a  marginal  note,  "  The  racke  or 
morion  of  the  clouds,ybr  the  clouds." 

Again,  in  Dryden's  version  of  the  tenth  JEneid: 

"  the  doubtful  rack  of  heaven 

"  Stands  without  motion,  and  the  tide  undriven." 
Mr.  Pennant  in  his  Tour  in  Scotland  observes,  there  is  a  fish 
called  a  rack-rider,  because  it  appears  in  winter  or  bad  weather ; 
Rack,  in  the  English  of  our  author's  days,  signifying  the  driving 
of  the  clouds  by  tempests. 

Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  instead  of  rack,  reads  track,  which  may 
be  countenanced  by  the  following  passage  in  the  first  scene  of 
Timon  of  Athens: 

"  But  flies  an  eagle  flight,  bold,  and  forth  on, 
"  Leaving  no  tract  behind" 
Again,  in  the  Captain,  by  Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  Act  II.  sc.  i: 

" run  quietly, 

"  Leaving  no  trace  of  what  they  were  behind  them." 

Steevens. 
Rack  is  generally  used  for  a  body  of  clouds,  or  rather  for  the 
course  of  clouds  in  motion;  so,  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra: 
"  That  which  is  now  a  horse,  even  with  a  thought, 
"  The  rack  dislimns." 
But  no  instance  has  yet  been  produced  where  it  is  used  to  signify 
a  single  smalljleeting  cloud,  in  which  sense  only  it  can  be  figura- 
tively applied  here.     I  incline,  therefore,  to  Sir  Thomas  Han- 
mer's  emendation. 

I  am  now  inclined   to  think  that  rack  is  a  mis-spelling  for 
ivrack,   i.  e.   wreck,   which    Fletcher   likewise   has   used  for   a 
minute  broken  fragment.     See  his  Wife  for  a  Month,  where  we 
find  the  word  mis-spelt  as  it  is  in  The  Tempest: 
"  He  will  bulge  so  subtilly  and  suddenly, 
"  You  may  snatch  him  up  by  parcels,  like  a  sea-rack.1* 
It  has  been  urged,  that  "  objects  which  have  only  a  visionary 
and  insubstantial  existence,  can,  when  the  vision  is  faded,  leave 
nothing  real,  and  consequently  no  wreck  behind  them."     But 
the  objection  is  founded  on  misapprehension.     The   words — 
"  Leave  not  a  rack  (or  wreck)  behind,"  relate  not  to  "  the 
baseless  fabrick  of  this  vision,"  but  to  the  final  destruction  of  the 
world,  of  which  the  towers,  temples,  and  palaces,  shall  (like  a 
vision,  or  a  pageant,)  be  dissolved,  and  leave  no  vestige  behind. 

Malone. 

1  As  dreams  are  made  of,]  The  old  copy  reads — on.  But  this 
is  a  mere  colloquial  vitiation;  of,  among  the  vulgar,  being  still 
pronounced — on.     Steevens. 


sc.  i.  TEMPEST.  139 

Is  rounded  with  a  sleep. — Sir,  I  am  vex'd: 

Bear  with  my  weakness  ;  my  old  brain  is  troubled. 

Be  not  disturb'd  with  my  infirmity : 

If  you  be  pleas'd,  retire  into  my  cell, 

And  there  repose ;  a  turn  or  two  I'll  walk, 

To  still  my  beating  mind. 

Fer.  Mira.  We  wish  your  peace. 

\fixeunh 

Pro.  Come  with  a  thought : — I  thank  you : — 
Ariel,  come.2 

Enter  Ariel. 


s\ 


Ari.  Thy  thoughts  I  cleave  to:3     What's  thy 
pleasure  ? 

Pro.  Spirit, 

We  must  prepare  to  meet  with  Caliban.4 


The  stanza  which  immediately  precedes  the  lines  quoted  by 
Mr.  Steevens  from  Lord  Sterline's  Darius,  may  serve  still  further 
to  confirm  the  conjecture  that  one  of  these  poets  imitated  the 
other.     Our  author  was  I  believe  the  imitator : 

"  And  when  the  eclipse  comes  of  our  glory's  light, 

"  Then  what  avails  the  adoring  of  a  name? 
"  A  meer  illusion  made  to  mock  the  sight, 

"  Whose  best  was  but  the  shadow  of  a  dream" 

Malone. 
*  Fer.  Mir.   We  wish  your  peace. 

Pro.  Come  with  a  thought: — /  thank  you: — Ariel,  come.~\ 
The  old  copy  reads  " — I  thank  thee."  But  these  thanks  being 
in  reply  to  the  joint  wish  of  Ferdinand  and  Miranda,  I  have  sub- 
stituted^™/ for  thee,  by  the  advice  of  Mr.  Ritson.     Steevens. 

'  Thy  thoughts  I  cleave  to:]  To  cleave  to,  is  to  unite  with 
closely.     So,  in  Macbeth: 

"  Like  our  strange  garments,  cleave  not  to  their  mould." 
Again: 

"  If  you  shall  cleave  to  my  consent."     Steevens. 

4  to  meet  with  Caliban."]   To  meet  with  is  to  counteract; 

to  play  .stratagem  against  Stratagem. — The  parson  knows  thctemper 


140  TEMPEST.  act  jr. 

Ari.  Ay,  my  commander :  when  I  presented  Ceres, 
I  thought  to  have  told  thee  of  it;  but  I  fear'd, 
Lest  I  might  anger  thee. 

Pro.  Say  again,  where  didst  thou  leave  these 
varlets  ? 

Ari.  I  told  you,  sir,  they  were  red-hot  with 
drinking ; 
So  full  of  valour,  that  they  smote  the  air 
For  breathing  in  their  faces ;  beat  the  ground 
For  kissing  of  their  feet :  yet  always  bending 
Towards  their  project:  Then  I  beat  my  tabor, 
At  which,  like  unback'd  colts,  they  prick'd  their 

ears, 
Advanc'd  their,  eye-lids,6  lifted  up  their  noses, 


of  every  one  in  his  house,  and  accordingly  either  meets  with 
their  vices,  or  advances  their  virtues.  Herbert's  Country 
Parson.     Johnson. 

So,  in  Cynthia's  Revenge,  l6l3: 

" You  may  meet 

"   With  her  abusive  malice,  and  exempt 

"  Yourself  from  the  suspicion  of  revenge."     Steevens. 

5  Advanc'd  their  eye-lids,  &c]     Thus  Drayton,  in  his  Nym- 
phidia,  or  Court  ofFairie: 

"  But  once  the  circle  got  within, 

"  The  charms  to  work  do  straight  begin, 

"  And  he  was  caught  as  in  a  gin: 

"  For  as  he  thus  was  busy, 
"  A  pain  he  in  his  head-piece  feels, 
"  Against  a  stubbed  tree  he  reels, 
*'  And  up  went  poor  Hobgoblin's  heels: 

"  Alas,  his  brain  was  dizzy. 
**  At  length  upon  his  feet  he  gets, 
"  Hobgoblin  fumes,  Hobgoblin  frets ; 
"  And  as  again  he  forward  sets, 

"  And  through  the  bushes  scrambles, 
"  A  stump  doth  hit  him  in  his  pace, 
"  Down  conies  poor  Hob  upon  his  face, 
"  And  lamentably  tore  his  case 

Among  the  briers  and  brambles/'    Johnson. 


a 


sc.  t.  TEMPEST.  141 

As  they  smelt  musick;  so  I  charm'd  their  ears, 
That,  calf-like,  they  my  lowing  follow'd,  through 
Tooth'd  briers,  sharp  furzes,  pricking  goss,6  and 

thorns, 
Which  enter'd  their  frail  shins :  at  last  I  left  them 
P  the  filthy  mantled  pool7  beyond  your  cell, 
There  dancing  up  to  the  chins,  that  the  foul  lake 
O'erstunk  their  feet. 

Pro.  This  was  well  done,  my  bird : 

Thy  shape  invisible  retain  thou  still : 
The  trumpery  in  my  house,  go,  bring  it  hither, 
For  stale  to  catch  these  thieves.8 

Ari.  -  I  go,  I  go.  [Exit. 

Pro.  A  devil,  a  born  devil,  on  whose  nature 
Nurture  can  never  stick  f  on  whom  my  pains, 


' pricking  goss,]  I  know  not  how  Shakspeare  distin- 
guished goss  Scorn  furze;  for  what  he  ca\h furze  is  called  goss  or 
gorse  in  the  midland  counties. 

This  word  is  used  in  the  first  chorus  to  Kyd's  Cornelia,  15Q4: 
"  With  worthless  gorse  that,  yearly,  fruitless  dies." 

Steevens. 

By  the  latter,  Shakspeare  means  the  low  sort  of  gorse  that  only 
grows  upon  wet  ground,  and  which  is  well  described  by  the 
name  of  tvhins  in  Markham's  Farewell  to  Husbandry.  It  has 
prickles  like  those  of  a  rose-tree  or  a  gooseberry.  Furze  and 
whins  occur  together  in  Dr.  Farmer's  quotation  from  Holinshed. 

TOLLET. 

7  P  the  flthy  mantled  pool  — ]  Perhaps  we  should  read — 
filth-ymantled. — A  similar  idea  occurs  in  K.  Lear  : 

"  Drinks  the  green  mantle  of  the  standing  pool." 

Steevens. 

8  For  stale  to  catch  these  thieves.']  Stale  is  a  word  infolding, 
and  is  used  to  mean  a  bait  or  decoy  to  catch  birds. 

So,  in  A  Looking-glass  for  London  and  England,  1617: 
"  Hence  tools  of  wrath,  stales  of  temptation!" 
Again,  in  Green's  Mamilia,  15Q5  :  "  — that  she  might  not  strike 
at  the  stale,  lest  she  were  canvassed  in  the  nets."     Steevens. 

9  Nurture  can  never  sticlc;]     Nurture  is  education.     A  little 


142  TEMPEST.  act  iv. 

Humanely  taken,  all,  all  lost,  quite  lost ;' 
And  as,  with  age,  his  body  uglier  grows, 
So  his  mind  cankers:'3  I  will  plague  them  all, 

Re-enter  Ariel  loaden  with  glistering  apparel,  §c. 
Even  to  roaring : — Come,  hang  them  on  this  line. 

Prospero    and   Ariel    remain   invisible.      Enter 
Caliban,  Stepiiaxo,  and  Trixculo,  all  wet, 

Cal.  Pray  you,  tread  softly,  that  the  blind  mole 
may  not 
Hear  a  foot  fall  :3  we  now  are  near  his  cell. 

Ste.  Monster,  your  fairy,  which,  you  say,  is  a 

volume  entitled  The  Boke  0/ Nurture,  o?-  Schoole  of  good  Mancrs, 
&c.  was  published  iu  the  reign  of  King  Edward  VI.  4to.  bl.  1. 

Steevexs. 

1  all,  all  lost,]  The  first  of  these  words  was  probably  in- 
troduced by  the  carelessness  of  the  transcriber  or  compositor. 
We  might  safely  read — are  all  lost.     Maloxe. 

s  And  as,  nii/i  age,  his  body  uglier  groics, 

So  his  mind  cankers:']  Shakspeare,  when  he  wrote  this 
description,  perhaps  recollected  what  his  patron's  most  intimate 
friend  the  great  Lord  Essex,  in  an  hour  of  discontent,  said  of 
Queen  Elizabeth: — "  that  she  greu-  old  and  canker'd,  and  that  her 
mind  toas  become  as  crooked  as  her  carcase:" — a  speech,  which, 
according  to  Sir  Walter  Raleigh,  cost  him  his  head,  and  which, 
we  may  therefore  suppose,  was  at  that  time  much  talked  of. 
This  play  being  written  in  the  time  of  King  James,  these  ob- 
noxious words  might  be  safely  repeated.     Maloxe. 

3  the  blind  mole  may  not 

Hear  afoot  fall:]  This  quality  of  hearing,  which  the  mole 
is  supposed  to  possess  in  so  high  a  degree,  is  mentioned  in 
Enphnes,  4to.  1561,  p.  (34:  "Doth  not  the  lion  for  strength, 
the  turtle  for  love,  the  ant  for  labour,  excel  man?  Doth  not  the 
eagle  see  clearer,  the  vulture  smell  better,  the  moale  heare  light- 
."     Reed. 


sc.  i.  TEMPEST.  143 

harmless  fairy,  has  done  little  better  than  played  the 
Jack  with  us.-1 

Trin.  Monster,  I  do  smell    all  horse-piss ;    at 
which  my  nose  is  in  great  indignation. 

Ste.  So  is  mine.     Do  you  hear,  monster  ?     If  I 
should  take  a  displeasure  against  you  ;  look  you, — 

Trin.  Thou  wert  but  a  lost  monster. 

Cal.  Good  my  lord,  give  me  thy  favour  still : 
Be  patient,  for  the  prize  I'll  bring  thee  to 
Shall  hood-wink  this  mischance:  therefore,  speak 

softlv, 
All's  husli'd  as  midnight  yet. 

Trin.  Ay,  but  to  lose  our  bottles  in  the  pool, — 

Ste.  There  is  not  only  disgrace  and  dishonour 
in  that,  monster,  but  an  infinite  loss. 

Trix.  That's  more  to  me  than  my  wetting :  yet 
this  is  your  harmless  fairy,  monster. 

Ste.  I  will  fetch  off  my  bottle,  though  I  be  o'er 
ears  for  my  labour. 

Cal.  Pr'ythee,  my  king,  be  quiet:  Seest  thou 
here, 
This  is  the  mouth  o'  the  cell :  no  noise,  and  enter: 
Do  that  good  mischief,  which  may  make  this  island 
Thine  own  for  ever,  and  I,  thy  Caliban, 
For  aye  thy  foot-licker. 

Ste.  Give  me  thy  hand :  I  do  begin  to  have 
bloody  thoughts. 

Trin.  O  king  Stephano !     O  peer !     O  worthy 


4  has  done  little  better  than  played  the  Jack  with   us.~\ 

i.  e.  He  has  played  Jack  with  a  lantern  ,•   lias  led  us  about  like  an 
ignis fatuus,  by  which  travellers  are  decoyed  into  the  mire. 

Johnson'. 


144  TEMPEST.  ACTm 

Stephano!  look,  what  a  wardrobe  here  is  for  thee  !5 

Cal.  Let  it  alone,  thou  fool ;  it  is  but  trash. 

Trix.  O,  ho,  monster ;  we  know  what  belongs 
to  a  frippery  :6 — O  king  Stephano ! 

Ste.  Put  off  that  gown,  Trinculo;  by  this  hand, 
I'll  have  that  gown. 

Trin.  Thy  grace  shall  have  it» 

Cal.  The  dropsy  drown  this  fool !  what  do  you 
mean, 
To  doat  thus  on  such  luggage  ?  Let's  along,7 

5  Trin.  0  king  Stephano!  O  peer!  0  worthy  Stephano!  look 
what  a  wardrobe  is  here  for  thee!~\  The  humour  of  these  lines 
consists  in  their  being  an  allusion  to  an  old  celebrated  ballad, 
which  begins  thus :  King  Stephen  was  a  worthy  peer — and  cele- 
brates that  king's  parsimony  with  regard  to  his  wardrobe. — There 
are  two  stanzas  of  this  ballad  in  Othello.     Warburton. 

The  old  ballad  is  printed  at  large  in  The  Reliques  of  Ancient 
Poetry,  Vol.  I.     Percy. 

6 xve  know  ivhat  belongs  to  a  frippery:]     A  frippery  was  a 

shop  where  old  clothes  were  sold.     Fripperie,  Fr. 

Beaumont  and  Fletcher  use  the  word  in  this  sense,  in  Wit 
without  Money,  Act  II: 

"  As  if  I  were  a  running  frippery.9* 
So,   in   Monsieur   d' Olive,    a    comedy,    by   Chapman,    \6o6'. 
"  Passing  yesterday  by  the  frippery,   I  spied  two  of  them  hang- 
ing out  at  a  stall,  with  a  gambrell  thrust  from  shoulder  to  shoul- 
der." 

The  person  who  kept  one  of  these  shops  was  called  a.  J ripper. 

Strype,  in  the  life  of  Stowe,  says,  that  these  J rippers  lived  in 
Birchin  Lane  and  Cornhill.     Steevens. 

7  Let's  along,]     First  edit.  Let' s  alone.     Johnson. 


I  believe  the  poet  wrote: 

" Let  it  alone, 

"  And  do  the  murder  first." 
Caliban  had  used  the  same  expression  before.     Mr.  Theobald 
reads — Let's  along.     Malone. 

Let's  alone,  may  mean — Let  you  and  I  only  go  to  commit  the 
murder,  leaving  Trinculo,  who  is  so  solicitous  about  the  trash  of 
dress,  behind  us.     Steevens. 


sc.  i.  TEMPEST.  145 

And  do  the  murder  first :  if  he  awake, 

From  toe  to  crown  he'll  rill  our  skins  with  pinches ; 

Make  us  strange  stuff. 

Ste.  Be  you  quiet,  monster. — Mistress  line,  is 
not  this  my  jerkin  ?  Now  is  the  jerkin  under  the 
line:8  now,  jerkin,  you  are  like  to  lose  your  hair, 
and  prove  a  bald  jerkin. 

Trin.  Do,  do :  We  steal  by  line  and  level,  and't 
like  your  grace. 

Ste.  I  thank  thee  for  that  jest;  here's  a  garment 
for't :  wit  shall  not  go  unrewarded,  while  I  am  king 
of  this  country  :  Steal  by  line  and  level,  is  an  excel- 
lent pass  of  pate ;  there's  another  garment  for't. 

Trin.  Monster,  come,  put  some  lime9  upon 
your  fingers,  and  away  with  the  rest. 

Cal.  I  will  have  none  on't :  we  shall  lose  our 
time, 


9 under  the  line  .•]  An  allusion  to  what  often  happens  to 

people  who  pass  the  line.     The  violent  fevers,  which  they  con- 
tract in  that  hot  climate,  make  them  lose  their  hair. 

Edwards'  MSS. 
Perhaps  the  allusion  is  to  a  more  indelicate  disease  than  any 
peculiar  to  the  equinoxial. 

So,  in  The  Noble  Soldier,  lG32: 

"  'Tis  hot  going  under  the  line  there.'* 
Again,  in  Lady  Alimony,  16S9:  ' 

" Look  to  the  clime 

"  Where  you  inhabit ;  that's  the  torrid  zone : 
"  Yea,  there  goes  the  hair  away." 
Shakspeare  seems  to  design  an  equivoque  between  the  equi- 
noxial and  the  girdle  of  a  woman. 

It  may  be  necessary,  however,  to  observe,  as  a  further  eluci- 
dation of  this  miserable  jest,  that  the  lines  on  which  clothes  are 
hung,  are  usually  made  of  twisted  horse-/m/r.     Steevens. 

9 put  some  lime  fyc."]  That  is,  birdlime.     Johnson. 

So,  in  Green's  Disputation  between  a  He  and  She  Conycatcher, 
1592 :  "  — mine  eyes  are  stauls,  and  my  hands  lime  twigs." 

Steevens. 

VOL.  IV.  L 


146  TEMPEST.  act  iv. 

And  all  be  turn'd  to  barnacles,  or  to  apes  * 
With  foreheads  villainous  low.2 

Ste.  Monster,  lay-to  your  fingers  ;  help  to  bear 
this  away,  where  my  hogshead  of  wine  is,  or  I'll 
turn  you  out  of  my  kingdom  :  go  to,  carry  this. 

Trin.  And  this. 

Ste.  Ay,  and  this. 

A  noise  of  hunters  heard?  Enter  divers  Spirits,  in 
shape  of  hounds,  and  hunt  them  about ;  Pitos- 
pero  and  Ariel  setting  them  on. 

1 to  barnacles,  or  to  apes — "]    Skinner  says  barnacle  is 

Anser  Scoticus.  The  barnacle  is  a  kind  of  shell-fish  growing  on 
the  bottoms  of  ships,  and  which  was  anciently  supposed,  when 
broken  off,  to  become  one  of  these  geese.  Hall,  in  his  Virgi- 
demiarum,  Lib.  IV.  sat.  2,  seems  to  favour  this  supposition  : 

"  The  Scottish  barnacle,  if  I  might  choose, 

"  That  of  a  worme  doth  waxe  a  winged  goose,"  &c. 
So  likewise  Marston,  in  his  Malecontent,  1604: 

" like  your  Scotch  barnacle,  now  a  block, 

"  Instantly  a  worm,  and  presently  a  great  goose." 
"  There  are"  (says  Gerard,  in  his  Herbal,  edit.  1597,  page 
1391 )  "  in  the  north  parts  of  Scotland  certaine  trees,  whereon  do 
grow  shell-fishes,  &c.  &c.  which,  falling  into  the  water,  do  be- 
come fowls,  whom  we  call  barnakles  ;  in  the  north  of  England 
brant  geese  ;  and  in  Lancashire  tree  geese/*  &c. 

This  vulgar  error  deserves  no  serious  confutation.  Commend 
me,  however,  to  Holinshed,  (Vol.  I.  p.  38,)  who  declares  him- 
self to  have  seen  the  feathers  of  these  barnacles  "  hang  out  of  the 
shell  at  least  two  inches."  And  in  the  27th  song  of  Drayton's 
Polyolbion,  the  same  account  of  their  generation  is  given. 

Collins. 
8  With  foreheads  villainous  low.]  Loin  foreheads  were  ancient- 
ly reckoned  among  deformities.     So,  in  the  old  bl.  1.  ballad,  en- 
titled A  Peerlesse  Paragon  ; 

"  Her  beetle  brows  all  men  admire, 

"  Her  forehead  tvondrous  fou>." 
Again,  (the  qui  tationisMr.Malone's,)  in  Antony  and Cleopatra: 

" And  her  forehead 

"  As  lotv  as  she  would  wish  it."     Steevens. 

3  A  noise  of  hunters  heard.]    Shakspeare  might  have  had  in 


sc.  i.  TEMPEST.  147 

Pro.  Hey,  Mountain,  hey ! 

Am.  Silver  !  there  it  goes,  Silver  ! 

Pro.  Fury,  Fury  !  there,  Tyrant,  there !  hark, 
hark ! 

[Cal.  Ste.  and  Trin.  are  driven  out 
Go,  charge  my  goblins  that  they  grind  their  joints 
With  dry  convulsions ;  shorten  up  their  sinews 
With  aged  cramps  ;  and  more  pinch-spotted  make 

them, 
Than  pard,  or  cat  o*  mountain. 

Am.  Hark,  they  roar. 

Pro.  Let  them  be  hunted  soundly:  At  this  hour 
Lie  at  my  mercy  all  mine  enemies : 
Shortly  shall  all  my  labours  end,  and  thou 
Shalt  have  the  air  at  freedom :  for  a  little, 
Follow,  and  do  me  service.  \_ExeunU 

view  "  Arthur's  Chace,  which  many  believe  to  be  in  France,  and 
think  that  it  is  a  kennel  of  black  dogs  followed  by  unknown 
huntsmen  with  an  exceeding  great  sound  of  horns,  as  if  it  was  a 
very  hunting  of  some  wild  beast."  See  a  Treatise  of  Spectres, 
translated  from  the  French  of  Peter  de  Loier,  and  published  in 
quarto,  K)05.     Grey. 

"  Hecate,  (says  the  same  writer,  ibid.)  as  the  Greeks  af- 
firmed, did  use  to  send  dogges  unto  men,  to  feare  and  terrifie 
them."     Malone. 

See  Gervase  of  Tilbery,  who  wrote  in  1211,  for  an  account  of 
the  Familia  Arturi.  Ot.  Imper.  Dec.  II.  c.  12.     Steevens. 


I.  2 


148  TEMPEST.  actv. 

ACT  V.     SCENE  I. 

Before  the  Cell  of  Prospero. 
Enter  Prospero  in  his  magick  robes ;  and  Ariel, 

Pro.  Now  does  my  project  gather  to  a  head  : 
My  charms  crack  not;  my  spirits  obey;  and  time 
Goes  upright  with  his  carriage.4    How's  the  day  ? 

Ari.  On  the  sixth  hour ;  at  which  time,  my  lord, 
You  said  our  work  should  cease. 

Pro.  I  did  say  so, 

When  first  I  rais'd  the  tempest.     Say,  my  spirit, 
How  fares  the  king  and  his  ?5 

Ari.  Confin'd  together 

In  the  same  fashion  as  you  gave  in  charge ; 
Just  as  you  left  them,  sir ;  all  prisoners 
In  the  lime-grove  which  weather-fends  your  cell ; 
They  cannot  budge,  till  your  release.6    The  king, 
His  brother,  and  yours,  abide  all  three  distracted ; 
And  the  remainder  mourning  over  them, 
Brim-full  of  sorrow,  and  dismay ;  but  chiefly 
Him  you  term'd,  sir,  The  good  old  lord,  Gonzalo ; 


and  time 


.  with  his  carriage."]    Alluding  to  one  carrying  a 
burthen.    This  critical  period  of  my  life  proceeds  as  I  could  wish. 


Goes  upright 
uurthen.    This  critical  penoa"  ot  my  lite  proceeds  as  i  coma  wisn. 
Time  brings  forward  all  the  expected  events,  without  faultering 
under  his  burthen.     Steevens. 

3 the  king  and  his  ?]  The  old  copy  reads — "  the  king  and 

his  followers?"  But  the  word  followers  is  evidently  an  interpola- 
tion, (or  gloss  which  had  crept  into  the  text,)  and  spoils  the  metre 
without  help  to  the  sense.  In  King  Lear  we  have  the  phraseo- 
logy I  have  ventured  to  recommend : 

"  To  thee  and  thine,  hereditary  ever,"  &c.     Steevens. 

6 till  your  release.']  i.  e.  till  you  release  them.     Malone- 


sc.  i.  TEMPEST.  149 

His  tears  run  down  his  beard,  like  winter's  drops 
From  eaves  of  reeds :  your  charm  so  strongly  works 

them, 
That  if  you  now  beheld  them,  your  affections 
Would  become  tender. 

Pro.  Dost  thou  think  so,  spirit  ? 

Arl  Mine  would,  sir,  were  I  human. 

Pro.  And  mine  shall. 

Hast  thou,  which  art  but  air,  a  touch,  a  feeling7 
Of  their  afflictions  ?  and  shall  not  myself, 
One  of  their  kind,  that  relish  all  as  sharply, 
Passion  as  they,8  be  kindlier  mov'd  than  thou  art  ? 
Though  with  their  high  wrongs  I  am  struck  to  the 

quick, 
Yet,  with  my  nobler  reason,  'gainst  my  fury 
Do  I  take  part :  the  rarer  action  is 
In  virtue  than  in  vengeance :  they  being  penitent, 
The  sole  drift  of  my  purpose  doth  extend 
Not  a  frown  further :  Go,  release  them,  Ariel ; 
My  charms  I'll  break,  their  senses  I'll  restore, 
And  they  shall  be  themselves. 

Ari.  I'll  fetch  them,  sir.  [Exit. 


7 a  touch,  a  feeling — ]  A  touch  is  a  sensation.      So,  in 

Cymbeline : 

" a  touch  more  rare 

"  Subdues  all  pangs,  all  fears." 
So,  in  the  14 1st  sonnet  of  Shakspeare: 

"  Nor  tender  feeling  to  base  touches  prone." 
Again,  in  the  Civil  Wars  of  Daniel,  B.  I : 

"  I  know  not  how  their  death  gives  such  a  touch" 

Steevens. 


that  relish  alias  sharply, 


Passion  as  they,']  I  feel  every  thing  with  the  same  quick  sen- 
sibility, and  am  moved  by  the  same  passions  as  they  are. 
A  similar  thought  occurs  in  K.  Richard  II : 

"  Taste  grief  need  friends,  like  you,"  &c.     Steevens. 


1 50  TEMPEST.  act  r. 

Pro.  Ye  elves  of  hills,  brooks,  standing  lakes, 
and  groves ; 9 


9  Ye  elves  of  hills,  brooks,  standing  lakes,  and  groves  ;]  This 
speech  Dr.  Warburton  rightly  observes  to  be  borrowed  from 
Medea's  in  Ovid :  and,  "  it  proves,  says  Mr.  Holt,  beyond  con- 
tradiction, that  Shakspeare  was  perfectly  acquainted  with  the  sen- 
timents of  the  ancients  on  the  subject  of  inchantments."  The 
original  lines  are  these  ; 

"  Auraeque,  &  venti,  montesque,  amnesque,  lacusque, 
"  Diique  omnes  nemorum,  diique  omnes  noctis,  adeste." 
The  translation  of  which,  by  Golding,  is  by  no  means  literal,  and 
Shakspeare  hath  closely  followed  it.     Farmer. 

Whoever  will  take  the  trouble  of  comparing  this  whole  passage 
with  Medea's  speech,  as  translated  by  Golding,  will  see  evidently 
that  Shakspeare  copied  the  translation,  and  not  the  original.  The 
particular  expressions  that  seem  to  have  made  an  impression  on 
his  mind,  are  printed  in  Italicks : 
"  Ye  ayres  and  windes,  ye  elves  of  hills,  of  brookes,  of  woodes 

alone, 
"  Of  standing  lakes,  and  of  the  night,  approche  ye  every ch  one. 
"  Through  help  of  whom  (the  c  ~>oked  bankes  much  wondering 

at  the  thing) 
"  I  have  compelled  streames  to  run  clear  backward  to  their  spring. 
"  By  charms  I  make  the  calm  sea  rough,  and  make  the  rough  seas 

playne, 
"  And  cover  all  the  skie  with  clouds,  and  chase  them  thence  again. 
"  By  charms  I  raise  and  lay  the  "windes,  and  burst  the  viper's 

jaw, 
"  And  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth  both  stones  and  trees  do  draw. 
"  Whole  woods  and  forrests  I  remove,  /  make  the  mountains 

shake, 
"  And  even  the  earth  itself  to  groan  and  fearfully  to  quake. 
u  /  call  up  dead  men  from  their  graves,  and  thee,  O  lightsome 

moone, 
"  I  darken  oft,  though  beaten  brass  abate  thy  peril  soone. 
"  Our  sorcerie  dimrnes  the  morning  faire,  and  darks  the  sun  at 

noone. 
"  The  flaming  breath  of  fierie  bulles  ye  quenched  for  my  sake, 
"  And  caused  their  unwieldy  neckes  the  bended  yoke  to  take. 
"  Among  the  earth-bred  brothers  you  a  mortal  warre  did  set, 
**  And  brought  asleep  the  dragon  fell,  whose  eyes  were  never 

shet."     Malone. 

Ye  elves  of  hills,  &c]  Fairies  and  elves  are  frequently,  in  the 


sc.  /.  TEMPEST.  151 

And  ye,  that  on  the  sands  with  printless  foot 
Do  chase  the  ebbing  Neptune,1  and  do  fly  him, 
When  he  comes  back ;  you  demy-puppets,  that 
By  moon-shine  do  the  green-sour  ringlets  make, 
Whereof  the  ewe  not  bites  j  and  you,  whose  pas- 
time 
Is  to  make  midnight  mushrooms  ;  that  rejoice 
To  hear  the  solemn  curfew ;  by  whose  aid 
(Weak  masters  though  ye  be,)'2  I  have  be-dimm'd 
The  noon-tide  sun,  call'd  forth  the  mutinous  winds, 
And  'twixt  the  green  sea  and  the  azur'd  vault 
Set  roaring  war :  to  the  dread  rattling  thunder 


poets  mentioned  together,  without  any  distinction  of  character 
that  I  can  recollect.  Keysler  says,  that  alp  and  alf  which  is  elf 
with  the  Suedes  and  English,  equally  signified  a  mountain,  or  a 
daemon  of  the  mountains.  This  seems  to  have  been  its  original 
meaning ;  but  Somner's  Diet,  mentions  elves  or  fairies  of  the 
mountains,  of  the  woods,  of  the  sea  and  fountains,  without  any 
distinction  between  elves  and  fairies.     Tollet. 

1 'with  printlessyoo^ 

Do  chase  the  ebbing  Neptmie^  So  Milton,  in  his  Masque  : 
"  Whilst  from  off  the  waters  fleet, 
"  Thus  I  set  my  printless  feet."     Steevens. 

8  (  Weak  masters  though  ye  be,)~\  The  meaning  of  this  passage 
may  be,  Though  you  arc  but  inferior  masters  of  these  supernatural 
poivers — though  you  possess  them  but  in  a  loiv  degree.  Spenser 
uses  the  same  kind  of  expression  in  The  Fairy  Queen,  B.  III. 
cant.  8.  st.  4  : 

"  Where  she  (the  witch)  was  wont  her  sprights  to  enter- 
tain. 
"  The  masters  of  her  art :  there  was  she  fain 
"  To  call  them' all  in  order  to  her  aid."     Steevens. 


—  by  ivhose  aid, 


{IVcak  masters  though  ye  be,)]  That  is;  ye  are  powerful 
auxiliaries,  but  weak  if  left  to  yourselves; — your  employment  is 
then  to  make  green  ringlets,  and  midnight  mushrooms,  and  to 
play  the  idle  pranks  mentioned  by  Ariel  in  his  next  song  ; — yet 
by  your  aid  I  have  been  enabled  to  invert  the  course  of  nature. 
We  say  proverbially,  "  Fire  is  a  good  servant  but  a  bad  master." 

Blackstone. 


152  TEMPEST. 


ACT  V. 


Have  I  given  fire,  and  rifted  Jove's  stout  oak 
With  his  own  bolt :  the  strong-bas'd  promontory 
Have  I  made  shake ;  and  by  the  spurs  pluck'd  up 
The  pine  and  cedar :  graves,  at  my  command, 
Have  waked  their  sleepers;  oped,  and  let  them 

forth 
By  my  so  potent  art :  But  this  rough  magick 3 
I  here  abjure :  and,  when  I  have  requir'd 
Some  heavenly  musick,  (which  even  now  I  do,) 
To  work  mine  end  upon  their  senses,  that 
This  airy  charm  is  for,  I'll  break  my  staff, 
Bury  it  certain  fathoms  in  the  earth, 
And,  deeper  than  did  ever  plummet  sound, 
I'll  drown  my  book.  [Solemn  musick. 

.Re-enter  Ariel  :  after  him,  Alonso,  mth  a  fran- 
tick  gesture,  attended  by  Gonzalo  ;  Sebastian 
and  Antonio  in  like  maimer,  attended  by  Adrian 
and  Francisco  :  they  all  enter  the  circle  which 
Prospero  had  made,  and  there  stand  charmed ; 
which  Prospero  observing,  speaks. 

A  solemn  air,  and  the  best  comforter 
To  an  unsettled  fancy,  cure  thy  brains,4 

0 But  this  rough  magick  &c]  This  speech  of  Prospero 

sets  out  with  a  long  and  distinct  invocation  to  the  various  ministers 
of  his  art :  yet  to  what  purpose  they  were  invoked  does  not  very 
distinctly  appear.  Had  our  author  written — "  All  this,"  &c. 
instead  of—"  But  this,"  &c.  the  conclusion  of  the  address  would 
have  been  more  pertinent  to  its  beginning.  Steevens. 
4  A  solemn  air,  and  the  best  comforter 
To  an  unsettled  fancy,  cure  thy  brains,  fyc."]  Prospero  does 
not  desire  them  to  cure  their  brains.  His  expression  is  optative, 
not  imperative  ;  and  means — May  music  cure  thy  brains !  i.  e. 
settle  them.     Mr.  Malone  reads :  " 

"  To  an  unsettled  fancy's  cure !  Thy  brains, 

"  Now  useless,  boil  within  thy  scull :" —     Steevens. 


sc.  i.  TEMPEST.  153 

Now  useless,  boil'd  within  thy  skull  !5  There  stand, 

For  you  are  spell-stopp'd. 

Holy  Gonzalo,  honourable  man, 

Mine  eyes,  even  sociable  to  the  shew  of  thine, 

Fall  fellowly  drops.0 — The  charm  dissolves  apace; 

And  as  the  morning  steals  upon  the  night, 

Melting  the  darkness,  so  their  rising  senses 

Besrin  to  chase  the  ignorant  fumes7  that  mantle 

Their  clearer  reason. — O  my  good  Gonzalo, 

My  true  preserver,  and  a  loyal  sir 

To  him  thou  follow' st ;  I  will  pay  thy  graces 

Home,  both  in  word  and  deed. — Most  cruelly 

Didst  thou,  Alouso,  use  me  and  my  daughter : 

The  old  copy  reads— fan cy.     For  this  emendation  I  am  an- 
swerable.    So,  in  King  John  ; 

"  My  widow's  comfort,  and  my  sorrow's  care." 
Again,  in  Romeo  and  Juliet  : 

" Confusion's  cure 

"  Lives  not  in  these  confusions." 
Prospero  begins  by  observing,  that  the  air  which  had  been 
played  was  admirably  adapted  to  compose  unsettled  minds.  He 
then  addresses  Gonzalo  and  the  rest,  who  had  just  before  gone 
into  the  circle:  "  Thy  brains,  now  useless  boil  within  thy  skull," 
&c.  [the  soothing  strain  not  having  yet  begun  to  operate.]  Af- 
terwards, perceiving  that  the  musick  begins  to  have  the  effect 
intended,  he  adds,  "  The  charm  dissolves  apace."  Mr.  Pope 
and  the  subsequent  editors  read — boil'd.     Ma  lone. 

5  boil'd  within  thy  shdl  !~\  So,  in  A  Midsummer  Night's 

Dream  : 

"  Lovers  and  madmen  have  such  seething  brains,"  &c. 

Steevens. 

Again,  in  The  Winter's  Tale:  "  Would  any  but  these  boil'd 
brains  of  nineteen  and  two-and-twenty,  hunt  this  weather?" 

Maloke. 

G  fellovAy   drops.]      I   would  read,  fellow  drops.     The 

additional  syllable  only  injures  the  metre,  without  enforcing  the 
tense.     Fellowly,  however,  is  an  adjective  used  by  Tusser. 

Steevens. 

7  the  ignorant  fumes  — ]  i.  e.  the  fumes  of  ignorance. 

Heath. 


154  TEMPEST.  act  v. 

Thy  brother  was  a  furtherer  in  the  act  ;-*- 
Thou'rt  pinch'd  for't  now,  Sebastian. — Flesh  and 

blood, 8 
You  brother  mine,  that  entertain'd  ambition, 9 
Expell'd  remorse  and  nature; 1  who,  with  Sebastian, 
(Whose  inward  pinches  therefore  are  most  strong,) 
Would  here  have  kill'd  your  king ;  I  do  forgive 

thee, 
Unnatural  though  thou  art! — Their  understanding 
Begins  to  swell ;  and  the  approaching  tide 
Will  shortly  fill  the  reasonable  shores, 
That  now  lie  foul  and  muddy.     Not  one  of  them, 
That  yet  looks  on  me,  or  would  know  me : — Ariel, 
Fetch  me  the  hat  and  rapier  in  my  cell ; 

\_Exit  Ariel. 
I  will  dis-case  me,  and  myself  present, 
As  I  was  sometime  Milan  : — quickly,  spirit ; 
Thou  shalt  ere  long  be  free. 

Ariel  re-enters,  singing,  and  helps  to  attire 
Prospero. 

Ari.   Wliere  the  bee  sucks,  there  sack  I; 
In  a  cowslip's  bell  I  lie  : 2 
There  I  coach  when  owls  do  cry. 3 
On  the  bafs  back  I  dofiy, 
After  summer,  mei~rily : 4 

8  Thou'rt  pinch'd  forH  now,  Sebastian. — Flesh  and  blood,] 
Thus  the  old  copy :  Theobald  points  the  passage  in  a  different 
manner,  and  perhaps  rightly  : 

"  Thou'rt  pinch'd  for't  now,  Sebastian,  flesh  and  blood." 

Steevens. 

9  — — .  that  entertain'd  ambition,']  Old  copy — entertain.  Cor- 
rected by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio.     Malone. 

•  remorse  and  nature  ;]   Remorse  is  by  our  author  and 

the  contemporary  writers  generally  used  for  pity,  or  tenderness 
nf  heart.     Nature  is  natural  affection.     Malone. 


sc.  i.  TEMPEST.  155 

Merrih/i  merrily,  shall  I  live  now, 

Under  the  blossom  that  hangs  on  the  bough.5 


i 


In  a  cowslip's  bell  I  lie  :]  So,  in  Drayton's  Nymphidia  : 

"  At  midnight,  the  appointed  hour  ; 

"  And  for  the  queen  a  fitting  bower, 

"  Quoth  he,  is  that  fair  cowslip  flower 

"  On  Hipcut  hill  that  hloweth." 
The  date  of  this  poem  not  being  ascertained,  we  know  not 
whether  our  author  was  indebted  to  it,  or  was  himself  copied  by 
Drayton.  I  believe,  the  latter  was  the  imitator.  Nymphidia 
was  not  written,  I  imagine,  till  after  the  English  Don  Quixote 
had  appeared  in  1612.     Malone. 

3  when  owls  do  cry.']  i.  e.  at  night.     As  this  passage  is 

now  printed,  Ariel  says  that  he  reposes  in  a  cowslip's  bell  during 
the  night.  Perhaps,  however,  a  full  point  ought  to  be  placed 
after  the  word  couch,  and  a  comma  at  the  end  of  the  line.  If 
the  passage  should  be  thus  regulated,  Ariel  will  then  take  his 
departure  by  night,  the  proper  season  for  the  bat  to  set  out  upon 
the  expedition.     Malone. 

4  After  summer,  merrily:']  This  is  the  reading  of  all  the  edi- 
tions. Yet  Mr.  Theobald  has  substituted  sun-set,  because  Ariel 
talks  of  riding  on  the  bat  in  this  expedition.  An  idle  fancy. 
That  circumstance  is  given  only  to  design  the  time  of  night  in 
which  fairies  travel.  One  would  think  the  consideration  of  the 
circumstances  should  have  set  him  right.  Ariel  was  a  spirit  of 
great  delicacy,  bound  by  the  charms  of  Prospero  to  a  constant 
attendance  on  his  occasions.  So  that  he  was  confined  to  the 
island  winter  and  summer.  But  the  roughness  of  winter  is  re- 
presented by  Shakspeare  as  disagreeable  to  fairies,  and  such  like 
delicate  spirits,  who,  on  this  account,  constantly  follow  summer. 
Was  not  this  then  the  most  agreeable  circumstance  of  Ariel's 
new-recovered  liberty,  that  he  could  now  avoid  winter,  and  follow 
summer  quite  round  the  globe?  But  to  put  the  matter  quite  out 
of  question,  let  us  consider  the  meaning  of  this  line  : 

"  There  I  couch  when  owls  do  cry." 

Where  f  in  the  cowslip's  hell,  and  where  the  bee  sucks,  he  tells 

us  :  this  must  needs  be  in  summer.     When  ?  xvhen  owls  cry.  and 
.....  " 

this  is  in  winter : 

"  When  blood  is  nipp'd,  and  ways  be  foul, 

"  Then  nightly  sings  the  staring  owl." 

The  Song  of  Winter  in  Love's  Labour's  Lost. 

The  consequence  is,  that  Ariel  Jlies  after  summer.     Yet  the 


156  TEMPEST.  act  v. 

Pro.  Why,  that's  my  dainty  Ariel :  I  shall  miss 
thee ; 

Oxford  editor  has  adopted  this  judicious  emendation  of  Mr. 
Theobald.     Warburton. 

Ariel  does  not  appear  to  have  been  confined  to  the  island  sum- 
mer and  winter,  as  he  was  sometimes  sent  on  so  long  an  errand  as 
to  the  Bermoothes.  When  he  says,  On  the  bat's  back  I  dojly, 
Sec.  he  speaks  of  his  present  situation  only ;  nor  triumphs  in  the 
idea  of  his  future  liberty,  till  the  last  couplet : 

"  Merrily,  merrily,"  &c. 
The  bat  is  no  bird  of  passage,  and  the  expression  is  therefore  pro- 
bably used  to  signify,  not  that  he  pursues  summer,  but  that,  after 
summer  is  past,  he  rides  upon  the  warm  down  of  a  bat's  back, 
which  suits  not  improperly  with  the  delicacy  of  his  airy  being. 
After  summer  is  a  phrase  in  K.  Henry  VI.  P.  II.  Act  II.  sc.  iv. 
Shakspeare,  who,  in  his  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  has 
placed  the  light  of  a  glow-worm  in  its  eyes,  might,  through  the 
same  ignorance  of  natural  history,  have  supposed  the  bat  to  be  a 
bird  of  passage.  Owls  cry  not  only  in  winter.  It  is  well  known 
that  they  are  to  the  full  as  clamorous  in  summer ;  and  as  a  proof 
of  it,  Titania,  in  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  the  time  of 
which  is  supposed  to  be  May,  commands  her  fairies  to — 

"  keep  back 

"  The  clamorous  owl,  that  nightly  hoots."     Steevens. 

Our  author  is  seldom  solicitous  that  every  part  of  his  imagery 
should  correspond.  I  therefore  think,  that  though  the  bat  is 
"  no  bird  of  passage,"  Shakspeare  probably  meant  to  express 
what  Dr.  Warburton  supposes.  A  short  account,  however,  of 
this  winged  animal  may  perhaps  prove  the  best  illustration  of  the 
passage  before  us : 

"  The  bat  (says  Dr.  Goldsmith,  in  his  entertaining  and  in- 
structive Natural  History, )  makes  its  appearance  in  summer,  and 
begins  its  flight  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening.  It  appears  only  in 
the  most  pleasant  evenings;  at  other  times  it  continues  in  its  re- 
treat ;  the  chink  of  a  ruined  building,  or  the  hollow  of  a  tree. 
Thus  the  little  animal  even  in  summer  sleeps  the  greatest  part  of 
his  time,  never  venturing  out  by  day-light,  nor  in  rainy  weather. 
But  its  short  life  is  still  more  abridged  by  continuing  in  a  torpid 
state  during  the  "winter.  At  the  approach  of  the  cold  season, 
the  bat  prepares  for  its  state  of  lifeless  inactivity,  and  seems 
rather  to  choose  a  place  where  it  may  continue  safe  from  inter- 
ruption, than  where  it  may  be  warmly  and  commodiously  lodged." 

When  Shakspeare  had  determined  to  send  Ariel  in  pursuit  of 


$c.  i.  TEMPEST.  157 

But  yet  thou  shalt  have  freedom  :  so,  so,  so. — 
To  the  king's  ship,  invisible  as  thou  art : 
There  shalt  thou  find  the  mariners  asleep 
Under  the  hatches  ;  the  master,  and  the  boatswain, 
Being  awake,  enforce  them  to  this  place  ; 
And  presently,  I  pr'ythee. 

Arl  I  drink  the  air s  before  me,  and  return 
Or  e'er  your  pulse  twice  beat.  \_Exit  Ariel, 

Gon.  All  torment,  trouble,  wonder,  and  amaze* 
ment 
Inhabits  here  :  Some  heavenly  power  guide  us 
Out  of  this  fearful  country  ! 

Pro.  Behold,  sir  king, 

The  wronged  duke  of  Milan,  Prospero  : 
For  more  assurance  that  a  living  prince 
Does  now  speak  to  thee,  I  embrace  thy  body ; 


summer,  wherever  it  could  be  found,  as  most  congenial  to  such 
an  airy  being,  is  it  then  surprising  that  he  should  have  made  the 
bat,  rather  than  "  the  wind,  his  post-horse ;"  an  animal  thus  de* 
lighting  in  that  season,  and  reduced  by  winter  to  a  state  of  life- 
less inactivity  ?     Malone. 

5  shall  I  live  noiv, 

Under  the  blossom  that  hangs  on  the  bough."]  This  thought 
is  not  thrown  out  at  random.  It  composed  a  part  of  the  magi- 
cal system  of  these  days.  In  Tasso's  Godfrey  of  Bulloigne,  by 
Fairfax,  B.  IV.  st.  IS: 

"  The  goblins,  fairies,  fecnds,  and  furies  mad, 
"  Ranged  in  flowrie  dales,  and  mountaines  hore, 
"  And  under  rvrrie  trembling  leafe  they  sit." 
The  idea  was  probably  first  suggested  by  the  description  of  the 
venerable  elm  which  Virgil  planted  at  the  entrance  of  the  infernal 
shades.     JEn.  VI.  v.  282  : 

"  Ulmus  opaca,  ingens ;  quam  sedem  somnio  vulgo 
"  Vuna  tenere  ferunt,  foliisque  sub  omnibus  liferent.'" 

Holt  White. 

6  /  drink  the  air  — ]    To  drink  the  air — is  an  expression  of 
swiftness  of  the  same  kind  as  to  devour  the  way  in  K.  Henry  IV. 

Johnson. 


158  TEMPEST.  act  v. 

And  to  thee,  and  thy  company,  I  bid 
A  hearty  welcome. 

Alon.  Whe'r  thou  beest  he,  or  no,7 

Or  some  enchanted  trifle  to  abuse  me, 
As  late  I  have  been,  I  not  know :  thy  pulse 
Beats,  as  of  flesh  and  blood ;  and,  since  I  saw  thee, 
The  affliction  of  my  mind  amends,  with  which, 
I  fear,  a  madness  held  me :  this  must  crave 
(An  if  this  be  at  all,)  a  most  strange  story. 
Thy  dukedom  I  resign  ; 8  and  do  entreat 
Thou  pardon  me  my  wrongs  : — But  how  should 

Prospero 
Be  living,  and  be  here  ? 

Pro.  First,  noble  friend, 

Let  me  embrace  thine  age  j  whose  honour  cannot 
Be  measur'd,  or  confin'd. 

Gon.  Whether  this  be, 

Or  be  not,  I'll  not  swear. 

Pro.  You  do  yet  taste 

Some  subtilties  o'  the  isle,  °  that  will  not  let  you 

7  Whe'r  thou  beest  he,  or  no,~\  Whe'r  for  whether,  is  an  ab- 
breviation frequently  used  both  by  Shakspeare  and  Jonson.  So^ 
in  Julius  Ctesar  : 

"  See,  whe'r  their  basest  metal  be  not  mov'd." 
Again,  in  the  Comedy  qf  Errors: 

"  Good  sir,  whe'r  you'll  answer  me,  or  not." 

M.  Mason. 

8  Thy  dukedom  I  resign  ;]  The  duchy  of  Milan  being  through 
the  treachery  of  Antonio  made  feudatory  to  the  crown  of  Naples, 
Alonso  promises  to  resign  his  claim  of  sovereignty  for  the  future. 

Steevens. 

9  You  do  yet  taste 

Some  subtilties  o'  the  isle,"]  This  is  a  phrase  adopted  from 
ancient  cookery  and  confectionary.  When  a  dish  was  so  con- 
trived as  to  appear  unlike  what  it  really  was,  they  called  it  a 
subtilty.  Dragons,  castles,  trees,  &c.  made  out  of  sugar,  had 
the  like  denomination.  See  Mr.  Pegge's  glossary  to  the  Form 
<rf  Cury,  &c.  Article  Sotiltees. 


sc.  l  TEMPEST.  1.59 

Believe   things   certain: — Welcome,   my   friends 

all:— 
But  you,  my  brace  of  lords,  were  I  so  minded, 

[Aside  to  Seb.  mid  Ant. 
I  here  could  pluck  his  highness'  frown  upon  you, 
And  justify  you  traitors ;  at  this  time 
I'll  tell  no  tales. 

Seb.  The  devil  speaks  in  him.  [Aside. 

Pro.  No  : 

For  you,  most  wicked  sir,  whom  to  call  brother 
Would  even  infect  my  mouth,  I  do  forgive 
Thy  rankest  fault ;  all  of  them  ;  and  require 
My  dukedom  of  thee,  which,  perforce,  I  know, 
Thou  must  restore. 

Alon.  If  thou  beest  Prospero, 

Give  us  particulars  of  thy  preservation  : 
How  thou  hast  met  us  here,  who  three  hours  since1 


Froissard  complains  much  of  this  practice,  which  often  led  liim 
into  mistakes  at  dinner.  Describing  one  of  the  feasts  of  his  time, 
lie  says  there  was  "  grant  plante  de  mestz  si  etranges  8$  si 
desguisez  qu'on  ne  les pouvait  deviser  ;"  and  L'Etoile  speaking  of 
a  similar  entertainment  in  1597?  adds  "  Tousles poisso?is  estoieni 
fort  dextrement  desguisez  en  viande  de  chair,  qui  estoient  monstres 
inarins  pour  la  pluspart,  qiCon  avait  fait  venir  expres  de  tous  les 
costez."     Steevens. 

1  n-ho  three  hours  since — ]  The  unity  of  time   is  most 

rigidly  observed  in  this  piece.  The  fable  scarcely  takes  up  a 
greater  number  of  hours  than  are  employed  in  the  representa- 
tion ;  and  from  the  very  particular  care  which  our  author  takes 
to  point  out  this  circumstance  in  so  many  other  passages,  as  well 
as  here,  it  should  seem  as  if  it  were  not  accidental,  but  purposely 
designed  to  shew  the  admirers  of  Ben  Jonson's  art,  and  the  ca- 
villers of  the  time,  that  he  too  could  write  a  play  within  all  the 
strictest  laws  of  regularity,  when  he  chose  to  load  himself  with 
the  critick's  fetters. 

The  Boatswain  marks  the  progress  of  the  day  again — tvhich 
but  three  glasses  since,  Sec.  and  at  the  beginning  of  this  act  the 
duration  of  the  time  employed  on  the  stage  is  particularly  ascer- 


160  TEMPEST.  actv. 

Were  wreck'd  upon  this  shore ;  where  I  have  lost, 
How  sharp  the  point  of  this  remembrance  is ! 
My  dear  son  Ferdinand. 

Pro.  I  am  woe  for't,  sir.2 

Alon.  Irreparable  is  the  loss ;  and  patience 
Says,  it  is  past  her  cure. 

Pro.  I  rather  think, 

You  have  not  sought  her  help  ;  of  whose  soft  grace, 
For  the  like  loss,  I  have  her  sovereign  aid, 
And  rest  myself  content. 

Alon:  You  the  like  loss  ? 

Pro.  As  great  to  me,  as  late ; 3  and,  portable 4 
To  make  the  dear  loss,  have  I  means  much  weaker 
Than  you  may  call  to  comfort  you ;  for  I 
Have  lost  my  daughter. 

Alon.  A  daughter  ? 

O  heavens !  that  they  were  living  both  in  Naples, 
The  king  and  queen  there !  that  they  were,  I  wish 
Myself  were  mudded  in  that  oozy  bed 
Where  my  son  lies.  When  did  you  lose  your  daugh- 
ter ? 


tained ;  and  it  refers  to  a  passage  In  the  first  act,  of  the  same  ten- 
dency. The  storm  was  raised  at  least  two  glasses  after  mid  day, 
and  Ariel  was  promised  that  the  ivork  should  cease  at  the  sixth 
hour.     Steevens. 

2  I  am  woe  Jbr't,  sir.~\  i.  e.  /  am  sorry  for  it.     To  be  "woe,  is 
often  used  hy  old  writers  to  signify,  to  be  sorry. 
So,  in  the  play  of  The  Four  P's,  15&9 : 
"  But  be  ye  sure  I  tvould  be  ivoe 
**  That  you  should  chance  to  begyle  me  so."  Steevens. 

*  As  great  to  me,  as  late ;]  My  loss  is  as  great  as  yours,  and 
has  as  lately  happened  to  me.     Johnson. 

4  portable — ]     So,  in  Macbeth : 

"  these  are  portable 

"  With  other  graces  weigh'd." 
The  old  copy  unrnetrically  reads — "  ^portable."   Steevens. 


sc.  i.  TEMPEST.  161 

Pro.  In  this  last  tempest.  I  perceive,  these  lords 
At  this  encounter  do  so  much  admire, 
That  they  devour  their  reason  ;  and  scarce  think 
Their  eyes  do  offices  of  truth,  their  words 
Are  natural  breath : 5  but,  howsoe'er  you  have 
Beenjustled  from  your  senses,  know  for  certain, 
That  I  am  Prospero,  and  that  very  duke 
Which   was   thrust   forth    of  Milan ;    who   most 

strangely 
Upon  this  shore,  where  you  were  wreck'd,  was 

landed, 
To  be  the  lord  on't.     No  more  yet  of  this  ; 
For  'tis  a  chronicle  of  day  by  day, 
Not  a  relation  for  a  breakfast,  nor 
Befitting  this  first  meeting.     Welcome,  sir  ; 
This  cell's  my  court :  here  have  I  few  attendants, 
And  subjects  none  abroad :  pray  you,  look  in. 
My  dukedom  since  you  have  given  me  again, 
I  will  requite  you  with  as  good  a  thing ; 
At  least,  bring  forth  a  wonder,  to  content  ye, 
As  much  as  me  my  dukedom. 

The  entrance  of  the  Cell  opens,  and  discovers  Fer- 
dinand and  Miranda  playing  at  chess. 6 

Mira.  Sweet  lord,  you  play  me  false. 

4 their  words 

Arc  natural  breath  :]  An  anonymous  correspondent  thinks 
thai  their  is  a  corruption,  and  that  we  should  read — these  words. 
I  lis  conjecture  appears  not  improbable.  The  lords  had  no  doubt 
concerning  themselves.  Their  doubts  related  only  to  Prospero, 
whom  they  at  fust  apprehended  to  be  some  "  inchanted  trifle  to 
abuse  them."  They  doubt,  says  he,  whether  what  they  see  and 
hear  is  a  mere  illusion  ;  whether  the  person  they  behold  is  a 
living  mortal,  whether  the  words  they  hear  are  spoken  by  a  hu- 
man creature.     M  A  LONE. 

playing  at  chess.]  Shakspearc  might  not  have  ventured 


VOL.  IV.  M 


162  TEMPEST.  act  v. 

Fer.  No,  my  dearest  love, 

I  would  not  for  the  world. 

Mira.  Yes,  for  a  score  of  kingdoms, 7  you  should 
wrangle, 
And  I  would  call  it  fair  play. 

Alon.  If  this  prove 

A  vision  of  the  island,  one  dear  son 
Shall  I  twice  lose. 

Seb.  A  most  high  miracle ! 

Fer.  Though  the  seas  threaten,  they  are  merci- 
ful : 
I  have  curs'd  them  without  cause. 

[Ferd.  kneels  to  Alon. 

Alon.  Now  all  the  blessings 

Of  a  glad  father  compass  thee  about ! 
Arise,  and  say  how  thou  cam'st  here. 

to  engage  his  hero  and  heroine  at  this  game,  had  he  not  found 
Hnon  de  Bordeaux  and  his  Princess  employed  in  the  same  man- 
ner. See  the  romance  of  Huon,  &c.  chapter  .53,  edit.  1601 : 
"  How  King  Ivoryn  caused  his  daughter  to  play  at  the  chesse 
with  Huon,"  &c.     Steevens. 

7  Yes,  for  a  score  o/kingdoms,  <^c]  I  take  the  sense  to  be 
only  this  :  Ferdinand  would  not,  he  says,  play  her  false  for  the 
■world ;  yes,  answers  she,  I  would  allow  you  to  do  it  for  some- 
thing less  than  the  world,  for  twenty  kingdoms,  and  I  wish  you 
well  enough  to  allow  you,  after  a  little  wrangle,  that  your  play 
was  fair.     So,  likewise,  Dr.  Grey.     Johnson. 

I  would  recommend  another  punctuation,  and  then  the  sense 
would  be  as  follows  : 

Yes,  for  a  score  of  kingdoms  you  should  wrangle, 
And  I  would  call  it  fair  play  ; 
because  such  a  contest  would  be  worthy  of  you. 

"  *Tu  honour,  with  most  lands  to  be  at  odds," — 
says  Alcibiades,  in  Timon  of  Athens. 

Again,  in  Fletcher's  Two  Noble  Kinsmen  : 

"  They  would  show  bravely 

"  Fighting  about  the  titles  of  two  kingdoms." 

Steevens. 


sc.  i.  TEMPEST.  162 

Mira.  O  !  wonder ! 

How  many  goodly  creatures  are  there  here ! 
How  beauteous  mankind  is  !  O  brave  new  world, 
That  has  such  people  in't ! 

Pro.  'Tis  new  to  thee. 

Alon.  What  is  this  maid,  with  whom  thou  wast 
at  play  ? 
Your  eld'st  acquaintance  cannot  be  three  hours  : 
Is  she  the  goddess  that  hath  severed  us, 
And  brought  us  thus  together  ? 

Fer.  Sir,  she's  mortal ; 

But,  by  immortal  providence,  she's  mine ; 
I  chose  her,  when  I  could  not  ask  my  father 
For  his  advice  ;  nor  thought  I  had  one  :  she 
Is  daughter  to  this  famous  duke  of  Milan, 
Of  whom  so  often  I  have  heard  renown, 
But  never  saw  before  ;  of  whom  I  have 
Received  a  second  life,  and  second  father 
This  lady  makes  him  to  me. 

Alox.  I  am  hers  : 

But  O,  how  oddly  will  it  sound,  that  I 
Must  ask  my  child  forgiveness ! 

Pro.  There,  sir,  stop  ; 

Let  us  not  burden  our  remembrances 8 
With  a  heaviness  that's  gone. 

Gox.  I  have  inly  wept, 

Or  should  have  spoke  ere  this.     Look  down,  you 

gods, 
And  on  this  couple  drop  a  blessed  crown ; 


8  our  remembrances — ]  By  the  mistake  of  the  transcri- 
ber the  word  with  being  placed  at  the  end  of  this  line,  Mr.  Pope 
and  the  subsequent  editors,  for  the  sake  of  the  metre,  read — 
remembrance.  The  regulation  now  made  renders  change  unne- 
cessary.    Malone. 

m2 


164  TEMPEST.  act  r. 

For  it  is  you,  that  have  chalk'd  forth  the  way 
Which  brought  us  hither ! 

Alon.  I  say,  Amen,  Gonzalo ! 

Gox.  Was  Milan  thrust  from  Milan,  that  his  issue 
Should  become  kings  of  Naples  ?  O,  rejoice 
Beyond  a  common  joy ;  and  set  it  down 
With  gold  on  lasting  pillars  :  In  one  voyage 
Did  Claribel  her  husband  find  at  Tunis ; 
And  Ferdinand,  her  brother,  found  a  wife, 
Where  he  himself  was  lost ;  Prospero  his  dukedom, 
In  a  poor  isle  ;  and  all  of  us,  ourselves, 
When  no  man  was  his  own. 9 

Alox.  Give  me  your  hands  : 

[To  Fer.  and  Mir. 
Let  grief  and  sorrow  still  embrace  his  heart, 
That  doth  not  wish  you  joy ! 

Gox.  Be't  so !  Amen ! 

Re-enter  Ariel,  mth  the  Master  and  Boatswain 
amazedly  following. 

0  look,  sir,  look,  sir  ;  here  are  more  of  us ! 

1  prophesied,  if  a  gallows  were  on  land, 

This  fellow  could  not  drown  : — Now,  blasphemy, 
That  swear'st  grace  o'erboard,  not  an  oath  on  shore  ? 
Hast  thou  no  mouth  by  land?  What  is  the  news  ? 

Boats.  The  best  news  is,  that  we  have  safely 
found 

9  When  no  man  ivas  his  own."]  For  tvlien,  perhaps  should  be 
read — -where.    Johnson. 

When  is  certainly  right ;  i.  e.  at  a  time  xvhen  no  one  was  in 
his  senses.  Shakspeare  could  not  have  written  ivhere,  [i.  e.  in  the 
island,]  because  the  mind  of  Prospero,  who  lived  in  it,  had  not 
been  disordered.  It  is  still  said,  in  colloquial  language,  that  a 
madman  is  not  his  oton  man,  i.  e.  is  not  master  of  himself. 

Steevens. 


sc.  i.  TEMPEST.  165 

Our  king,  and  company  :  the  next  our  ship, — 
Which,  but  three  glasses  since,  we  gave  out  split, — 
Is  tight,  and  yare,  and  bravely  rigg'd,  as  when 
We  first  put  out  to  sea. 

Ari.  Sir,  all  this  service  } 

Have  I  done  since  I  went.  >  Aside. 

Pro.  My  tricksy  spirit ! l ) 

Alox.   These    are   not   natural   events;    they 
strengthen, 
From  strange  to  stranger : — Say,  how  came  you 
hither  ? 

Boats.  If  I  did  think,  sir,  I  were  well  awake, 
I'd  strive  to  tell  you.     We  were  dead  of  sleep, 3 


1  My  tricksy  spirit .']     Is,  I  believe,  my  clever,  adroit  spirit. 
Shakspeare  uses  the  same  word  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice.: 

"  that  for  a  tricksy  word 

"  Defy  the  matter." 
So,  in  the  interlude  of  The  Disobedient  Child,  bl.  1.  no  date : 

"  invent  and  seek  out 

"  To  make  them  go  tricksie,  gallaunt  and  cleane." 

Steevens. 

1  dead  of  sleep,']     Thus  the  old  copy.     Modern  editors 

— asleep. 

Mr.  Malone  would  substitute — on  ;  but  on  (in  the  present  in- 
stance )  is  only  a  vulgar  corruption  of — of.  We  still  say,  that  a 
person  dies  o/such  or  such  a  disorder  ;  and  why  not  that  he  is 
dead  of  sleep  ?     Steevens. 

"  On  sleep"  was  the  ancient  English  phraseology.  So,  in 
Gascoigne's  Supposes  :  "  —  knock  again ;  I  think  they  be  on 
sleep." 

Again,  in  a  song  said  to  have  been  written  by  Anna  Boleyn : 
"  O  death,  rock  me  on  slepe." 
Again,   in  Campion's  History  of  Ireland,   l633  :  "  One  officer 
in  the  house  of  great  men  is  a  tale-teller,  who  bringeth  his  lord 
on  sleep  with  tales  vaine  and  frivolous."     Malone. 

In  these  instances  adduced  by  Mr.  Malone,  on  sleep,  most 
certainly  means  asleep  ;  but  they  do  not  militate  against  my  ex- 
planation of  the  phrase — "  dead  n/- sleep."     Steevens. 


163  TEMPEST.  act  v. 

And  (how,  we  know  not,)  all  clapp'd  under  hatches., 
Where,  but  even  now,  with  strange  and  several 

noises 
Of  roaring,  shrieking,  howling,  gingling  chains, 
And  more  diversity  of  sounds,  all  horrible, 
We  were  awak'd  ;  strait  way,  at  liberty : 
Where  we,  in  all  her  trim,  freshly  beheld 
Our  royal,  good,  and  gallant  ship  ;  our  master 
Capering  to  eye  her :  On  a  trice,  so  please  you, 
Even  in  a  dream,  were  we  divided  from  them, 
And  were  brought  moping  hither. 

Ari.  Was't  well  done  ?  \ 

Pro.  Bravely,  my  diligence.  Thou  shalt  V  Aside. 
be  free.  } 

Alon.  This  is  as  strange  a  maze  as  e'er  men  trod: 
And  there  is  in  this  business  more  than  nature 
Was  ever  conduct  of: 3  some  oracle 
Must  rectify  our  knowledge. 

Pro.  Sir,  my  liege, 

Do  not  infest  your  mind  with  beating  on 
The  strangeness  of  this  business ; 4  atpick'd  leisure, 

3  conduct  of:']      Conduct  for  conductor.     So,   in   Ben 

Jonson's  Every  Mail  out  of  his  Humour  : 

"  Come,  gentlemen,  I  will  be  your  conduct."     Steevens. 

Again,  in  The  Housholders'  Philosophic,  4  to.  1.58S,  p.  1 :  "I 
goe  before,  not  to  arrogat  anie  superioritie,  but  as  your  guide, 
because,  perhaps  you  are  not  well  acquainted  with  the  waie. 
Fortune  (quoth  I)  doth  favour  mee  with  too  noble  a  conduct." 

Reed. 

Conduct  is  yet  used  in  the  same  sense  :  the  person  at  Cambridge 
who  reads  prayers  in  King's  and  in  Trinity  College  Chapels,  is 
still  so  styled.     Henley. 

4  with  beating  on 

The  strangeness  &c]     A  similar  expression  occurs  in  The 
Second  Part  of  K.  Henry  VI ; 

" thine  eyes  and  thoughts 

"  Beat  on  a  crown." 


sc.  i.  TEMPEST.  167 

Which  shall  be  shortly,  single  I'll  resolve  you 
(Which  to  you  shall  seem  probable,) 5  of  every 
These  happen'd  accidents  :  till  when,  be  cheerful, 
And  think   of  each   thing   well. — Come   hither, 
spirit :  [Aside. 

Set  Caliban  and  his  companions  free : 
Untie  the  spell.  [Eait  Ariel.]  How  fares  my  gra- 
cious sir  ? 
There  are  yet  missing  of  your  company 
Some  few  odd  lads,  that  you  remember  not. 

Re-enter  Ariel,  driving  in  Caliban,  Stephano, 
and  Trinculo,  in  their  stolen  apparel. 

Ste.  Every  man  shift  for  all  the  rest,  and  let  no 


Beating  may  mean  hammering,  working  in  the  mind,  dwelling^ 
long  upon.  So,  in  the  preface  to  Stanyhurst's  translation  of 
Virgil,  1582:  "  For  my  part,  I  purpose  not  to  beat  on  everye 
childish  tittle  that  concerneth  prosodie."  Again,  Miranda,  in 
the  second  scene  of  this  play,  tells  her  father  that  the  storm  is 
still  beating  in  her  mind.     Steevens. 

A  kindred  expression  occurs  in  Hamlet : 

"   Cudgel  thy  brains  no  more  about  it."     Malone. 

5  (  Which  to  you  shall  seem  probable,)]  These  words  seem, 
at  the  first  view,  to  have  no  use  ;  some  lines  are  perhaps  lost  with 
which  they  were  connected.  Or  we  may  explain  them  thus :  I 
will  resolve  you,  by  yourself,  which  metiiod,  when  you  hear  the 
story  [of  Antonio's  and  Sebastian's  plot],  shall  seem,  probable; 
that  is,  shall  deserve  your  approbation.     Johnson. 

Surely  Prospero's  meaning  is :  "  I  will  relate  to  you  the  means 
by  which  1  have  been  enabled  to  accomplish  these  ends  ;  which 
means,  though  they  now  appear  strange  and  improbable,  will 
then  appear  oth  rwi.se."      ANONYMOUS. 

I  will  inform  you  how  all  these  wonderful  accidents  have  hap- 
pened ;  which,  though  they  now  appear  to  you  strange,  will  then 
seem  probable. 

An  anonymous  writer  pointed  out  the  true  construction  of  this 
passage,  but  his  explanation  is,  1  think,  incorrect.     Malone. 


l(5S  TEMPEST.  act  v. 

man  take  care  for  himself;  for  all  is  but  fortune  : — 
Coragio,  bully-monster,  Coragio  !  I 

■     Trix.  If  these  be  true  spies  which  I  wear  in  my 
head,  here's  a  goodly  sight. 

Cal.  O  Setebos,  these  be  brave  spirits,  indeed.! 
How  rine  my  master  is  !  I  am  afraid 
He  will  chastise  me. 

Seb.  Ha,  ha ; 

What  things  are  these,  my  lord  Antonio  ! 
Will  money  buy  them  ? 

Axt.  Very  like  ;  one  of  them 

Is  a  plain  fish,7  and,  no  doubt,  marketable. 

Pro.  Mark  but  the  badges  of  these  men,  my  lords, 
Then   say,  if  they  be   true : 8 — This  mis-shapen 

knave, 

His  mother  was  a  witch  ;  and  one  so  strong 
That  could  control  the  moon,9  make  flows  and  ebbs, 

c  Coragio !]  This  exclamation  of  encouragement  I  find 

in  J.  Florio's  Translation  of  Montaigne,  1603  : 

"  You  often  cried  Coragio,  and  called  5  a,  5  a." 

Again,  in  the  Blind  Beggar  of  Alexandria,  15g8.     Steevens. 

7  Is  a  plain  fish,]  That  is,  plainly,  evidently  a  fish.  So,  in 
Fletcher's  Scornful  Lady,  "  that  visible  beast,  the  butler," 
means  the  butler  who  is  visibly  a  beast.     M.  Mason. 

It  is  not  easy  to  determine  the  shape  which  our  author  designed 
to  bestow  on  his  monster.  That  he  has  hands,  legs,  &c.  we 
gather  from  the  remarks  of  Trinculo,  and  other  circumstances  in 
the  play.  How  then  is  he  plainly  ajish  ?  Perhaps  Shakspeare 
himself  had  no  settled  ideas  concerning  the  form  of  Caliban. 

Steevens. 

8  true :]  That  is,  honest.  A  true  man  is,  in  the  lan- 
guage of  that  time,  opposed  to  a  thief.  The  sense  is,  Mark 
ivhat  these  men  wear,  and  say  if  they  are  honest.     Johnson. 

9  His  mother  was  a  witch  ;  and  one  so  strong 

That  could  control  the  moon,  &c]  This  was  the  phraseo- 
logy of  the  times.  After  the  statute  against  witches,  revenge  or 
ignorance  frequentlyinducedpeople  to  charge  those  against  whom 
they  harboured  resentment,  or  entertained  prejudices,  with  the 


sc.  i.  TEMPEST.  269 

And  deal  in  her  command,  without  her  power:1 
These  three  have  robb'd  me ;  and  this  demi-devil 
(For  he's  a  bastard  one,)  had  plotted  with  them 
To  take  my  life  :  two  of  these  fellows  yon 
Must  know,  and  own  ;  this  thing  of  darkness  I 
Acknowledge  mine. 

Cal.  I  shall  be  pinch'd  to  death. 

Alox.  Is  not  this  Stephano,  my  drunken  butler  ? 

Seb.  He  is  drunk  now :  where  had  he  wine  ? 

Alox.  And  Trinculo  is  reeling  ripe :    Where 
should  they 
Find  this  grand  liquor  that  hath  gilded  them  ?2 — 
How  cam'st  thou  in  this  pickle  ? 

crime  of  witchcraft,  which  had  just  then  been  declared  a  capital 
offence.  In  our  ancient  reporters  are  several  cases  where  persons 
charged  in  this  manner  sought  redress  in  the  courts  of  law.  And 
it  is  remarkable  in  all  of  them,  to  the  scandalous  imputation  of 
being  witches,  the  term — a  strong  one,  is  constantly  added.  In 
Michaelmas  Term,  0  Car.  I.  the  point  was  settled  that  no  action 
could  be  supported  on  so  general  a  charge,  and  that  the  epithet 
strong  did  not  inforce  the  other  words.  In  this  instance,  I  believe, 
the  opinion  of  the  people  at  large  was  not  in  unison  with  the  sages 
in  Westminster-Hall.  Several  of  these  cases  are  collected  toge- 
ther in  I.  Viner,  422.     Reed. 

That  could  control  the  moon,]  From  Medea's  speech  in  Ovid, 
(as  translated  by  Golding, )  our  author  might  have  learned  that 
this  was  one  of  the  pretended  powers  of  witchcraft : 

" and  thee,  O  lightsome  moon, 

"  I  darken  oft,  though  beaten  brass  abate  thy  peril  soon." 

Ma  LONE. 
1  And  deal  in  her  command,  without  her  power :]  I  suppose 
Prospero  means,  that  Sycorax,  with  less  general  power  than  the 
moon,  could  produce  the  same  effects  on  the  sea.     Steevens. 

*  And  Trinculo  is  reeling  ripe  :  where  should  they 
Find  this  grand  liquor  that  hath  gilded  them?]  Shak- 
xpeare,  to  be  sure,  wrote — grand  'lixir,  alluding  to  the  grand 
Elixir  of  the  alchymists,  which  they  pretend  would  restore  youth 
and  confer  immortality.  This,  as  they  said,  being  a  preparation 
of  gold,  they  called  Aurum  potabile  ;  which  2Shakspe;ire  alluded 
i  the  word  gilded  ;  as  he  does  again  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra  ; 


170  TEMPEST.  actv. 

Tniif.  I  have  been  in  such  a  pickle,  since  I  saw 
you  last,  that,  I  fear  me,  will  never  out  of  my  bones : 
I  shall  not  fear  fly-blowing.3 

Seb.  Why,  how  now,  Stephano  ? 

Ste.  O,  touch  me  not ;  I  am  not  Stephano,  but 
a  cramp.4 

Pro.  You'd  be  king  of  the  isle,  sirrah  ? 

Ste.  I  should  have  been  a  sore  one  then.5 


"  How  much  art  thou  unlike  Mark  Antony  ? 

"  Yet  coming  from  him,  that  great  medicine  hath, 

"  With  his  tinct  gilded  thee." 
But  the  joke  here  is  to  insinuate  that,  notwithstanding  all  the 
boasts  of  the  chemists,  sack  was  the  only  restorer  of  youth  and 
bestower  of  immortality.  So,  Ben  Jonson,  in  his  Every.  Man 
out  of  his  Humour : — "  Canarie,  the  very  Elixir  and  spirit  of 
wine."  This  seems  to  have  been  the  cant  name  for  sack,  of  which 
the  English  were,  at  that  time,  immoderately  fond.  Randolph, 
in  his  Jealous  Lovers,  speaking  of  it,  says, — "  A  pottle  of  Elixir 
at  the  Pegasus,  bravely  caroused."  So,  again  in  Fletcher's 
Monsieur  Thomas,  Act  III : 

"  Old  reverend  sack,  which,  for  aught  that  I  can  read  yet, 

"  Was  that  philosopher's  stone  the  wise  king  Ptolemeus 

"  Did  all  his  wonders  by." 

The  phrase  too  of  being  gilded,  was  a  trite  one  on  this  occasion. 
Fletcher,  in  his  Chances: — "Duke.  Is  she  not  drunk  too? 
Whore.     A  little  gilded  o'er  sir;  old  sack,  old  sack,  boys  /" 

Warburton. 
As  the  alchymist's  Elixir  was  supposed  to  be  a  liquor,  the  old 
reading  may  stand,  and  the  allusion  holds  good  without  any 
alteration.     Steevens. 

3  — —  fly-blowing.]  This  pickle  alludes  to  their  plunge  into 
the  stinking  pool ;  and  pickling  preserves  meat  from fly-blowing. 

Steevens. 

4 but  a  cramp.]  i.  e.    I  am  all  over  a  cramp.     Prospero 

had  ordered  Ariel  to  shorten  up  their  sinews  with  aged  cramps. 
Touch  me  not  alludes  to  the  soreness  occasioned  by  them.  In 
his  next  speech  Stephano  confirms  the  meaning  by  a  quibble  on 
the  word  sore.     Steevens. 

5  /  should  have  been  a  sore  one  then.]  The  same  quibble 
occurs  afterwards  in  the  Second  Part  of  K.  Henry  VI;  "  Mass, 


SC.  I, 


TEMPEST.  171 


Alox.  This  is  as  strange  a  thing  as  e'er  I  look'd 
on.6  [Pointing  to  Caliban. 

Pro.  He  is  as  disproportion 'd  in  his  manners, 
As  in  his  shape : — Go,  sirrah,  to  my  eell ; 
Take  with  you  your  companions ;  as  you  look 
To  have  my  pardon,  trim  it  handsomely. 

Cal.  Ay,  that  I  will ;  and  I'll  be  wise  hereafter, 
And  seek  for  grace :  What  a  thrice-double  ass 
Was  I,  to  take  this  drunkard  for  a  god, 
And  worship  this  dull  fool  ? 

Pro.  Go  to ;  away ! 

Alox.  Hence,  and  bestow  your  luggage  where 
you  found  it. 

See.  Or  stole  it,  rather. 

[Exeunt  Cal.  Ste.  and  Trin. 

Pro.  Sir,  I  invite  your  highness,  and  your  train, 
To  my  poor  cell :  where  you  shall  take  your  rest 
For  this  one  night ;  which  (part  of  it,)  I'll  waste 
With  such  discourse,  as,  I  not  doubt,  shall  make  it 
Go  quick  away  :  the  story  of  my  life, 
And  the  particular  accidents,  gone  by, 
Since  I  came  to  this  isle :  And  in  the  morn, 
I'll  bring  you  to  your  ship",  and  so  to  Naples, 
Where  I  have  hope  to  see  the  nuptial 
Of  these  our  dear-beloved  solemniz'd ; 
And  thence  retire  me  to  my  Milan,  where 
Every  third  thought  shall  be  my  grave. 


'twill  be  sore  law  then,  for  he  was  thrust  in  the  mouth  with  a 
spear,  and  'tis  not  whole  yet."  Stephano  also  alludes  to  the 
sores  about  him.     Steevens. 

G  This  is  as  strange  a  thing  as  e'er  I  look'd  on.~]  The  old  copy, 
disregarding  metre,  reads — 

"  This  is  a  strange  thing  as  e'er  I  look'd  on." 
For  the  repetition  of  the  conjunetion  as,  &c.  I  am  answerable. 

Steevens. 


172  TEMPEST.  act  v. 

Alok.  I  long 

To  hear  the  story  of  your  life,  which  must 
Take  the  ear  strangely. 

Pro.  I'll  deliver  all ; 

And  promise  you  calm  seas,  auspicious  gales, 
And  sail  so  expeditious,  that  shall  catch 
Your  royal  fleet  far  off. — My  Ariel ; — chick, — 
That  is  thy  charge  ;  then  to  the  elements 
Be  free,  and  fare  thou  well ! — \_aside.~]  Please  you 
draw  near,  \_Exeunt. 


173 


EPILOGUE. 

SPOKEN     BY     PROSPERS 

NOW  my  charms  a?~e  all  o'erthrown, 
And  what  strength  I  have's  mine  own  ; 
Which  is  most  faint:  now,  'tis  true, 
I  must  be  here  conjin'd  by  you, 
Or  sent  to  Naples :  Let  me  not, 
Since  I  have  my  dukedom  got, 
And  pardon' d  the  deceiver,  dwell 
In  this  bare  island,  by  your  spell ; 
But  release  me  from  my  bands, 
With  the  help  of  your  good  hands  J 
Gentle  breath  of  yours  my  sails 
Musi f  11,  or  else  my  project  fails, 
Which  was  to  please :  Now  I  want 
Spirits  to  enforce,  art  to  enchant ; 


7  With  the  help  of  your  good  hands.']  By  your  applause,  by 
chipping  hands.     Johnson. 

Noise  was  supposed  to  dissolve  a  spell.     So,  twice  before  in 
this  play: 

M  No  tongue ;  all  eyes ;  be  silent." 
Again : 

" hush  !  be  mute  ; 

"  Or  else  our  spell  is  marT'd." 
Again,  in  Macbeth,  Act  IV.  sc.  i: 

"  Hear  his  speech,  but  say  thou  nought." 
Again,  ibid : 

"  Listen,  but  speak  not  to't."     Steevjsns. 


74  EPILOGUE. 

And  my  ending  is  despair, 
Unless  I  be  relieved  by  prayer  ;8 
Which  pierces  so,  that  it  assaidts 
Mercy  itself,  and  frees  all  faults. 

As  you  from  crimes  would  pardon' d  be, 
Let  your  indulgence  set  me  free? 


*  And  my  ending;  is  despair, 
Unless  I  be  relieved  by  prayer  ;~\  This  alludes  to  the  old  stories 
told  of  the  despair  of  necromancers  in  their  last  moments,  and  of 
the  efficacy  of  the  prayers  of  their  friends  for  them. 

Warburton. 

9  It  is  observed  of  The  Tempest,  that  its  plan  is  regular ;  this 
the  author  of  The  Revisal  thinks,  what  I  think  too,  an  accidental 
effect  of  the  story,  not  intended  or  regarded  by  our  author.  But 
whatever  might  be  Shakspeare's  intention  in  forming  or  adopting 
the  plot,  he  has  made  it  instrumental  to  the  production  of  many 
characters,  diversified  with  boundless  invention,  and  preserved 
with  profound  skill  in  nature,  extensive  knowledge  of  opinions, 
and  accurate  observation  of  life.  In  a  single  drama  are  here  ex- 
hibited princes,  courtiers,  and  sailors,  all  speaking  in  their  real 
characters.  There  is  the  agency  of  airy  spirits,  and  of  an  earthly 
goblin.  The  operations  of  magick,  the  tumults  of  a  storm,  the 
adventures  of  a  desert  island,  the  native  effusion  of  untaught 
affection,  the  punishment  of  guilt,  and  the  final  happiness  of  the 
pair  for  whom  our  passions  and  reason  are  equally  interested. 

Johnson. 


TWO  GENTLEMEN 


OF 


VERONA.* 


*  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona.]  Some  of  the  incidents  in 
this  play  may  be  supposed  to  have  been  taken  from  The  Arcadia, 
Book  I.  chap  vi.  where  Pyrocles  consents  to  head  the  Helots. 
(The  Arcadia  was  entered  on  the  books  of  the  Stationers'  Com- 
pany, Aug.  23d,  1588:)  The  love-adventure  of  Julia  resembles 
that  of  Viola  in  Twelfth  Night,  and  is  indeed  common  to  many 
of  the  ancient  novels.     Steevens. 

Mrs.  Lenox  observes,  and  I  think  not  improbably,  that  the  story 
of  Proteus  and  Julia  might  be  taken  from  a  similar  one  in  the 
Diana  of  George  of  Montemayor. — "  This  pastoral  romance,'* 
says  she,  "  was  translated  from  the  Spanish  in  Shakspeare's  time.'* 
I  have  seen  no  earlier  translation  than  that  of  Bartholomew  Yong, 
who  dates  his  dedication  in  November  1598  ;  and  Meres,  in  his 
Wit's  Treasury,  printed  the  same  year,  expressly  mentions  the 
Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona.  Indeed  Montemayor  was  translated 
two  or  three  years  before,  by  one  Thomas  Wilson;  but  this 
work,  I  am  persuaded,  was  never  published  entirely ;  perhaps 
some  parts  of  it  were,  or  the  tale  might  have  been  translated  by 
others.  However,  Mr.  Steevens  says,  very  truly,  that  this  kind 
of  love-adventure  is  frequent  in  the  old  novelists.     Farmer. 

There  is  no  earlier  translation  of  the  Diana  entered  on  the 
books  of  the  Stationers'  Company,  than  that  of  B.  Younge,  Sept. 
1598.  Many  translations,  however,  after  they  were  licensed, 
were  capriciously  suppressed.  Among  others,  "  The  Decameron 
of  Mr.  John  Boccace,  Florentine,"  was  "  recalled  by  my  lord  of 
Canterbury's  commands."     Steevens. 

It  is  observable  (I  know  not  for  what  cause)  that  the  style  of 
this  comedy  is  less  figurative,  and  more  natural  and  unaffected, 
than  the  greater  part  of  this  author's,  though  supposed  to  be  one 
of  the  first  he  wrote.     Pope. 

It  may  very  well  be  doubted  whether  Shakspeare  had  any  other 
hand  in  this  play  than  the  enlivening  it  with  some  speeches  and 
lines  thrown  in  here  and  there,  which  are  easily  distinguished,  as 
being  of  a  different  stamp  from  the  rest.     Hanmer. 

To  this  observation  of  Mr.  Pope,  which  is  very  just,  Mr.  Theo- 
bald has  added,  that  this  is  one  of  Shakspeare's  worst  plays,  and 
is  less  corrupted  than  any  other.  Mr.  Upton  peremptorily  de- 
termines, that  if  any  proof  can  be  drawn  from  manner  and  style,' 
this  play  must  be  sent  packing,  and  seek  for  its  parent  elsewhere. 
How  otherwise,  says  he,  do  painters  distinguish  copies  from 
originals  ?  and  have  not  aidhors  their  peculiar  style  and  manner, 
from  which  a  true  critic  can  form  as  unerring  judgement  as  a 
painter"?  I  am  afraid  this  illustration  of  a  critic's  science  will 
not  prove  what  is  desired.  A  painter  knows  a  copy  from  an  ori- 
ginal by  rules  somewhat  resembling  those  by  which  critics  know 


a  translation,  which,  if  it  be  literal,  and  literal  it  must  be  to  re- 
semble the  copy  of  a  picture,  will  be  easily  distinguished.  Copies 
are  known  from  originals,  even  when  the  painter  copies  his  own 
picture ;  so,  if  an  author  should  literally  translate  his  work,  he 
would  lose  the  manner  of  an  original. 

Mr.  Upton  confounds  the  copy  of  a  picture  with  the  imitation 
of  a  painter's  manner.  Copies  are  easily  known  ;  but  good  imita- 
tions are  not  detected  with  equal  certainty,  and  are,  by  the  best 
judges,  often  mistaken.  Nor  is  it  true  that  the  writer  has  always 
peculiarities  equally  distinguishable  with  those  of  the  painter. 
The  peculiar  manner  of  each  arises  from  the  desh-e,  natural  to 
every  performer,  of  facilitating  his  subsequent  work  by  recur- 
rence to  his  former  ideas ;  this  recurrence  produces  that  repeti- 
tion which  is  called  habit.  The  painter,  whose  work  is  partly 
intellectual  and  partly  manual,  has  habits  of  the  mind,  the  eye, 
and  the  hand  ;  the  writer  has  only  habits  of  the  mind.  Yet,  some 
painters  have  differed  as  much  from  themselves  as  from  any 
other  ;  and  I  have  been  told,  that  there  is  little  resemblance  be- 
tween the  first  works  of  Raphael  and  the  last.  The  same  varia- 
tion may  be  expected  in  writers ;  and  if  it  be  true,  as  it  seems, 
that  they  are  less  subject  to  habit,  the  difference  between  their 
works  may  be  yet  greater. 

But  by  the  internal  marks  of  a  composition  we  may  discover 
the  author  with  probability,  though  seldom  with  certainty.  When 
I  read  this  play,  I  cannot  but  think  that  I  find,  both  in  the  serious 
and  ludicrous  scenes,  the  language  and  sentiments  of  Shakspeare. 
It  is  not  indeed  one  of  his  most  powerful  effusions  ;  it  has  neither 
many  diversities  of  character,  nor  striking  delineations  of  life  ; 
but  it  abounds  in  yvtupui  beyond  most  of  his  plays,  and  few  have 
more  lines  or  passages,  which,  singly  considered,  are  eminently 
beautiful.  I  am  yet  inclined  to  believe  that  it  was  not  very  suc- 
cessful, and  suspect  that  it  has  escaped  corruption,  only  because 
being  seldom  played,  it  was  less  exposed  to  the  hazards  of 
transcription.     Johnson. 

This  comedy,  I  believe,  was  written  in  1595.  See  An  Attempt 
to  ascertain  the  Order  of  Shakspeare' s  Plays,  Vol.  II.    Malone. 


VOL.   IV. 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED. 


Duke  of  Mi\-<m,father  to  Silvia. 

p    .        j  '     >  Gentlemen  of  Verona. 

Antonio,  father  to  Proteus. 
Thurio,  a  foolish  rival  to  Valentine. 
Eglamour,  agent  for  Silvia,  in  her  escape. 
Speed,  a  clownish  servant  to  Valentine, 
Launce,  servant  to  Proteus. 
Panthino,2  servant  to  Antonio. 
Host,  where  Julia  lodges  in  Milan. 
Out-laws. 

Julia,  a  lady  of  Verona,  beloved  by  Proteus. 
Silvia,  the  duke's  daughter,  beloved  by  Valentine. 
Lucetta,  waiting -woman  to  Julia. 

Servants,  musicians. 

SCENE,  sometimes  in  Verona ;  sometimes  in  Milan ; 
and  on  the  frontiers  of  Mantua. 


1  Proteus,]  The  old  copy  has — ProtAeus  ;  but  this  is  merely 
the  antiquated  mode  of  spelling  Proteus.  See  the  Princely 
Pleasures  at  Kenelvcorth  Castle,  by  G.  Gascoigne,  1587j  where 
"  Prot/^eus  appeared,  sitting  on  a  dolphyns  back."  Again,  in 
one  of  Barclay's  Eclogues  : 

"  Like  as  Protheus  oft  chaungeth  his  stature." 

Shakspeare's  character  was  so  called,  from  his  disposition  to 
change.     Steevens. 

8  Panthino,"]  In  the  enumeration  of  characters  in  the  old  copy, 
this  attendant  on  Antonio  is  called  Panthion,  but  in  the  play, 
always  Panthino.     Steevens. 


TWO    GENTLEMEN 


OF 


VERONA. 

ACT  I.    SCENE  I. 

An  open  place  in  Verona. 

Enter  Valentine  and  Proteus. 

Val.  Cease  to  persuade,  my  loving  Proteus ; 
Home-keeping  youth  have  ever  homely  wits  :3 
Wer't  not,  affection  chains  thy  tender  days 
To  the  sweet  glances  of  thy  honour'd  love, 
I  rather  would  entreat  thy  company, 
To  see  the  wonders  of  the  world  abroad, 
Than  living  dully  sluggardiz'd  at  home, 
Wear  out  thy  youth  with  shapeless  idleness.4 
But,  since  thou  lov'st,  love  still,  and  thrive  therein, 
Even  as  I  would,  when  I  to  love  begin. 

Pro.  Wilt  thou  be  gone?  Sweet  Valentine,  adieu! 
Think  on  thy  Proteus,  when  thou,  haply,  seest 

3  Home-keeping  youth  have  ever  homely  "wits :~\  Milton  lias  the 
same  play  on  words,  in  his  Masque  at  Ludlow  Castle: 
"  It  is  for  homely  features  to  keep  home, 
"  They  had  their  name  thence."     Steevens. 

* .shapeless  idleness.]    The  expression  is  fine,  as  implying 

that  idleness  prevents  the  giving  any  form  or  character  to  the 
manners.    Warburton. 

n  2 


180  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  i. 

Some  rare  note-worthy  object  in  thy  travel : 

Wish  me  partaker  in  thy  happiness, 

When  thou  dost  meet  good  hap ;  and,  in  thy  danger, 

If  ever  danger  do  environ  thee, 

Commend  thy  grievance  to  my  holy  prayers, 

For  I  will  be  thy  bead's-man,  Valentine. 

Val.  And  on  a  love-book  pray  for  my  success. 

Pro.  Upon  some  book  I  love,  I'll  pray  for  thee. 

Val.  That's  on  some  shallow  story  of  deep  love, 
How  young  Leander  cross' d  the  Hellespont.5 

Pro.  That's  a  deep  story  of  a  deeper  love  ; 
For  he  was  more  than  over  shoes  in  love. 

Val.  'Tis  true ;  for  you  are  over  boots  in  love, 
And  yet  you  never  swam  the  Hellespont. 

Pro.  Over  the  boots?  nay,give  me  not  the  boots.0 


s some  shallow  story  of  deep  love, 

Hotv  young  Leander  cross'd  the  Hellespont.']  The  poem  of 
Musmis,  entitled  Hero  and  Leander,  is  meant.     Marlowe's 
translation  of  this  piece  was  entered  on  the  Stationers'  books, 
Sept.  18,  1593,  and  the  first  two  Sestiads  of  it,  with  a  small  part 
of  the  third,  (which  was  all  that  he  had  finished,)  were  printed, 
I  imagine,  in  that,  or  the  following  year.     See  Blount's  dedica- 
tion to  the  edition  of  163/,  by  which  it  appears  that  it  was  ori- 
ginally published  in  an  imperfect  state.     It  was  extremely  popu- 
lar, and  deservedly  so,  many  of  Marlowe's  lines  being  as  smooth 
as  those  of  Dryden.     Our  author  has  quoted  one  of  them  in  As 
you  like  it.     He  had  probably  read  this  poem  recently  before  he 
wrote  the  present  play;  for  he  again  alludes  to  it  in  the  third  act: 
"  Why  then  a  ladder,  quaintly  made  of  cords, 
"  Would  serve  to  scale  another  Herds  tower, 
"  So  bold  Leander  would  adventure  it." 
Since  this  note  was  written,  I  have  seen  the  edition  of  Mar- 
lowe's Hero  and  Leander,  printed  in  1598.     It  contains  the  first 
two  Sestiads  only.     The  remainder  was  added  by  Chapman. 

Malone. 

nay,  give  me  not  the  boots.]  A  proverbial  expression, 


though  now  disused,  signifying,  don't  make  a  laughing  stock  of 
me ;  don't  play  with  me.     The  French  have  a  phrase,  Bailler 


sc.i.  OF  VERONA.  181 

Val.  No,  I'll  not,  for  it  boots  thee  not. 

Pro.  What  ? 

Val.  To  be 

In  love,  where  scorn  is  bought  with  groans ;  coy 

looks, 
With  heart-sore  sighs  ;  one  fading  moment's  mirth, 
With  twenty  watchful,  weary,  tedious  nights  : 
If  haply  won,  perhaps,  a  hapless  gain ; 
If  lost,  why  then  a  grievous  labour  won  j 

Join  en  come;  which  Cotgrave  thus  interprets,  To  give  one  the 
boots  ;  to  sell  him  a  bargain.     Theobald. 

Perhaps  this  expression  took  its  origin  from  a  sport  the  country- 
people  in  Warwickshire  use  at  their  harvest-home,  where  one 
sits  as  judge  to  try  misdemeanors  committed  in  harvest,  and  the 
punishment  for  the  men  is  to  be  laid  on  a  bench,  and  slapped  on 
the  breech  with  a  pair  of  boots.  This  they  call  giving  them  the 
boots.  I  meet  with  the  same  expression  in  the  old  comedy  called 
Mother  Bombie,  by  Lyly  : 

"  What  do  you  give  mee  the  boots?" 
Again,  in  The  Weakest  goes  to  the  Wall,  a  comedy,  1618  : 

" Nor  your  fat  bacon  can  carry  it  away,  if  you 

offer  us  the  boots." 

The  boots,  however,  were  an  ancient  engine  of  torture.  In 
MS.  Harl.  6ygQ — 48,  Mr.  T.  Randolph  writes  to  Lord  Hunsdon, 
&c.  and  mentions,  in  the  P.  S.  to  his  letter,  that  George  Flecke 
had  yesterday  night  the  boots,  and  is  said  to  have  confessed  that 
the  E.  of  Morton  was  privy  to  the  poisoning  the  E.  of  Athol, 
16  March,  .1580:  and  in  another  letter,  March  18,  1580: 
"  —  that  the  Laird  of  Whittingham  had  the  boots,  but  without 
torment  confess'd,''  Stc.     Steevens. 

The  boot  was  an  instrument  of  torture  used  only  in  Scotland. 
Bishop  Burnet  in  The  History  of  his  own  Times,  Vol.  I.  332, 
edit.  1/54,  mentions  one  Maccael,  a  preacher,  who,  being  sus- 
pected of  treasonable  practices,  underwent  the  punishment  so 
late  as  Kjfitj  :  «  — He  was  put  to  the  torture,  which,  in  Scotland, 
they  call  the  boots ;  for  they  put  a  pair  of  iron  boots  close  on 
the  leg,  and  drive  wedges  between  these  and  the  leg.  The  com- 
mon torture  was  only  to  drive  these  in  the  calf  of  the  leg:  but  I 
have  been  told  they  were  sometimes  driven  upon  the  shin  bone." 

Reeu. 


182  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  i. 

However,  but  a  folly 7  bought  with  wit, 
Or  else  a  wit  by  folly  vanquished. 

Pro.  So,  by  your  circumstance,  you  call  me  fool. 

Val.  So,by  your  circumstance,  Ifear,you'llprove. 

Pro.  'Tis  love  you  cavil  at ;  I  am  not  Love. 

Val.  Love  is  your  master,  for  he  masters  you  : 
And  he  that  is  so  yoked  by  a  fool, 
Methinks  should  not  be  chronicled  for  wise. 

Pro.  Yet  writers  say,  As  in  the  sweetest  bud 
The  eating  canker  dwells,8  so  eating  love 
Inhabits  in  the  finest  wits  of  all. 

Val.  And  writers  say,  As  the  most  forward  bud 
Is  eaten  by  the  canker  ere  it  blow, 
Even  so  by  love  the  young  and  tender  wit 
Is  turn'd  to  folly  ;  blasting  in  the  bud, 
Losing  his  verdure  even  in  the  prime, 
And  all  the  fair  effects  of  future  hopes. 
But  wherefore  waste  I  time  to  counsel  thee, 
That  art  a  votary  to  fond  desire  ? 
Once  more  adieu  :  my  father  at  the  road 
Expects  my  coming,  there  to  see  me  shipp'd. 

Pro.  And  thither  will  I  bring  thee,  Valentine. 

Val.  Sweet  Proteus,  no ;  now  let  us  take  our 
leave. 
At  Milan,9  let  me  hear  from  thee  by  letters, 

7  However,  but  a  folly  &c]  This  love  will  end  in  &  foolish 
action,  to  produce  which  you  are  long  to  spend  your  •wit,  or  it 
will  end  in  the  loss  of  your  wit,  which  will  be  overpowered  by 
the  folly  of  love.     Johnson. 

8  As  in  the  sweetest  bud 

The  eating  canker  dwells,]    So,  in  our  author's  70th  Sonnet : 
"  For  canker  vice  the  sweetest  buds  doth  love." 

Malone. 

9  At  Milan,]  The  old  copy  has — To  Milan.  The  emendation 


sc.i.  OF  VERONA.  183 

Of  thy  success  in  love,  and  what  news  else 
Betideth  here  in  absence  of  thy  friend ; 
And  I  likewise  will  visit  thee  with  mine. 

Pro.  All  happiness  bechance  to  thee  in  Milan ! 

Val.  As  much  to  you  at  home !  and  so,  farewell. 

\_Exit  Valentine. 

Pro.  He  after  honour  hunts,  I  after  love : 
He  leaves  his  friends,  to  dignify  them  more ; 
I  leave  myself,  my  friends,  and  all  for  love. 
Thou,  Julia,  thou  hast  metamorphos'd  me  ; 
Made  me  neglect  my  studies,  lose  my  time, 
War  with  good  counsel,  set  the  world  at  nought ; 
Made  wit  with    musing   weak,1  heart    sick  with 
thought. 


*&■ 


Enter  Speed.2 

Speed.  Sir  Proteus,  save  you:    Saw  you  my 
master  ? 


was  made  by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio.  The  first  copy  how- 
ever may  be  right.  "  To  Milan'* — may  here  be  intended  as  an 
imperfect  sentence.     I  am  now  bound  for  Milan. 

Or  the  construction  intended  may  have  been — Let  me  hear 
from  thee  by  letters  to  Milan,  i.  e.  addressed  to  me  there. 

Ma  lone. 

1  Made  ivit  with  musing  toeak,"]  For  made  read  make.  Thou 
Julia,  hast  made  me  war  with  good  counsel,  and  make  wit  weak 
with  musing.     Johnson. 

Surely  there  is  no  need  of  emendation.  It  is  Julia  who  "  has 
already  mafic  wit  weak  with  musing,"  &c.     Steevens. 

'  This  whole  scene,  like  many  others  in  these  plays  (some  of 
which,  1  believe,  were  written  by  Shakspeare,  ana  others  inter- 
polated by  the  players,)  is  composed  of  the  lowest  and  most  tri- 
lling conceits,  to  he  accounted  for  only  from  the  gross  taste  of  the 
age  he  lived  in:  Popido  ut  placer ent.  1  wish  I  had  authority  to 
leave  them  out  ;  hut  1  have  done  all  I  could,  set  a  mark  of  re- 
probation upon  them  throughout  this  edition.     Pope. 

That  this,  like  many  other  scenes,  is  mean  and  vulgar,  will  be 


184  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  i. 

Pro.  But  now  he  parted  hence,  to  embark  for 
Milan. 

Speed.  Twenty  to  one  then, he  is  shipp'd  already; 
And  I  have  play'd  the  sheep,  in  losing  him. 

Pro.  Indeed  a  sheep  doth  very  often  stray, 
An  if  the  shepherd  be  awhile  away. 

Speed.  You  conclude  that  my  master  is  a  shep- 
herd then,  and  I  a  sheep  ? 3 

Pro.  I  do. 

Speed.  Why  then  my  horns  are  his  horns,  whe- 
ther I  wake  or  sleep. 

Pro.  A  silly  answer,  and  fitting  well  a  sheep. 

Speed.  This  proves  me  still  a  sheep. 

Pro.  True  ;  and  thy  master  a  shepherd. 

Speed.  Nay,  that  I  can  deny  by  a  circumstance. 

Pro.  It  shall  go  hard,  but  I'll  prove  it  by  another. 

Speed.  The  shepherd  seeks  the  sheep,  and  not 
the  sheep  the  shepherd  ;  but  I  seek  my  master,  and 
my  master  seeks  not  me  :  therefore,  I  am  no  sheep. 

Pro.  The  sheep  for  fodder  follow  the  shepherd, 
the  shepherd  for  food  follows  not  the  sheep  ;  thou 
for  wages  followest  thy  master, thy  master  for  wages 
follows  not  thee  :  therefore,  thou  art  a  sheep. 

Speed.  Such  another  proof  will-make  me  cry  baa. 

Pro.  But  dost  thou  hear  ?  gav'st  thou  my  letter 
to  Julia  ? 

Speed.  Ay,  sir  :  I,  a  lost  mutton,  gave  your  let- 


universally  allowed  ;  but  that  it  was  interpolated  by  the  players 
seems  advanced  without  any  proof,  only  to  give  a  greater  licence 
to  criticism.     Johnson. 

3 a  sheep?]  The  article,  which  is  wanting  in  the  original 

copy,  was  supplitd  by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio.      Malone. 


sc.t.  OF  VERONA.  185 

ter  to  her,  a  laced  mutton  ; 4  and  she,  a  laced  mut- 
ton, gave  me,  a  lost  mutton,  nothing  for  my  la- 
bour. 

Pro.  Here's  too  small  a  pasture  for  such  a  store 
of  muttons. 

Speed.  If  the  ground  be  overcharged,  you  were 
best  stick  her. 


4  I,  a  lost  mutton,  grave  your  letter  to  her,  a  laced  mutton  ;] 
Speed  calls  himself  a  lost  mutton,  because  he  had  lost  his  master, 
and  because  Proteus  had  been  proving  him  a  sheep.  But  why 
does  he  call  the  lady  a  laced  mutton  ?  Wenchers  are  to  this  day 
called  m utt on -mongers ;  and  consequently  the  object  of  their 
passion  must,  by  the  metaphor,  be  the  mutton.  And  Cotgrave, 
in  his  English-French  Dictionary,  explains  laced  mutton,  Une 
garse,  putainjille  dejoye.  And  Mr.  Motteux  has  rendered  this 
passage  of  Rabelais,  in  the  prologue  of  his  fourth  book,  Cail/es 
coiphees  mignonnement  chantdns,  in  this  manner ;  Coated  quails 
a ,:il  laced  mutton  waggishly  singing.  So  that  laced  mutton  has 
been  a  sort  of  standard  phrase  i'or  girls  of  pleasure.     Theobald. 

Nash,  in  his  Have  ivith  you  to  Saffron  Walden,  1595,  speak- 
ing of  Gabriel  Harvey's  incontinence,  says :  "  he  ixoidd  not 
stick  to  extoll  rotten  lae'd  mutton."  So,  in  the  comedy  of  The. 
Shoemaker  s  Holiday,  or  the  Gentle  Craft,  l6lO: 

"  Why  here's  good  lae'd  mutton,  as  I  promis'd  you." 
Again,  in  Whetstone's  Promos  and  Cassandra,  15/8  : 
"  And  I  smelt  he  lov'd  lae'd  mutton  well." 

Again,  Heywood,  in  his  Love's  Mistress,  1636,  speaking  of 
Cupid,  says,  he  is  the  "  Hero  of  hie-hoes,  admiral  of  ay-mes, 
and  monsieur  of  mutton  lae'd"     Steevens. 

A  laced  mutton  was  in  our  author's  time  so  established  a  term 
for  a  courtezan,  that  a  street  in  ClerkenweU,  which  was  much 
frequented  by  women  of  the  town,  was  then  called  Mutton-lane. 
It  seems  to  have  been  a  phrase  of  the  same  kind  as  the  French 
expression — caille  coifee,  and  might  be  rendered  in  that  language 
moteton  en  corset.  This  appellation  appears  to  have  been  as  old 
n-  the  time  of  King  Henry  III.  "  Item  sequitur  gravis  pcena 
corporalis,  sed  sine  amissione  vitae  vel  membrorum,  si  raptus  fit  de 
ibind  legitimi,  vel  a/id  qtuestumfaeiente,  sine  delectu  per- 
onasum  :  has  quidem  oves  debet  rex  tueri  pro  pace  sua." 
Bracton  de  Legibus,  lib.  ii.    Malone. 


186  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  I 

Pro.  Nay,  in  that  you  are  astray ; 5  'twere  best 
pound  you. 

Speed.  Nay,  sir,  less  than  a  pound  shall  serve 
me  for  carrying  your  letter. 

Pro.  You  mistake  ;  I  mean  the  pound,  a  pinfold. 

Speed.  From  a  pound  to  a  pin  ?  fold  it  over 
and  over, 
'Tis  threefold  too  little  for  carrying  a  letter  to  your 
lover. 

Pro.  But  what  said  she  ?  did  she  nod  ? 6 

[Speed  nods. 

Speed.  I. 

Pro.  Nod,  I  ?  why,  that's  noddy. 7 

*  Nay,  in  that  you  are  astray ;]  For  the  reason  Proteus  gives, 
Dr.  Thirlby  advises  that  we  should  read,  a  stray,  i.  e.  a  stray 
sheep;  which  continues Proteus's  banter  upon  Speed.  Theobald. 

From  the  word  astray  here,  and  lost  mutton  above,  it  is 
obvious  that  the  double  reference  was  to  the  first  sentence  of  the 
General  Confession  in  the  Prayer-book.     Henley. 

6  ■  ■  did  she  nod?]  These  words  were  supplied  by  Theobald, 
to  introduce  what  follows.     Steevens. 

In  Speed's  answer  the  old  spelling  of  the  affirmative  particle 
has  been  retained  ;  otherwise  the  conceit  of  Proteus  (such  as  it 
is)  would  be  unintelligible.     Malone. 

7  ivhy,   that's   noddy.]    Noddy  tvas   a  game  at  cards. 

So,  in  The  Inner  Temple  Mask,  by  Middleton,  1619 :  "  I  leave 
them  wholly  (says  Christmas)  to  my  eldest  son  Noddy,  whom 
during  his  minority,  I  commit  to  the  custody  of  a  pair  of  knaves, 
and  one  and  thirty."  Again,  in  Quarles's  Virgin  IVidotv,  l64g: 
"  Let  her  forbear  chess  and  noddy,  as  games  too  serious." 

Steevens. 

This  play  upon  syllables  is  hardly  worth  explaining.  The 
speakers  intend  to  fix  the  name  of  noddy,  that  is,  fool,  on  each 
other.  So,  in  The  Second  Part  of  PasqaiVs  Mad  Cappe, 
1600,  sig.  E : 

"  If  such  a  Noddy  be  not  thought  a  fool." 
Again,  E  1  : 

"  If  such  an  asse  be  noddled  for  the  nounce." 


sc.i.  OF  VERONA.  187 

Speed.  You  mistook,  sir ;  I  say,  she  did  nod : 
and  you  ask  me,  if  she  did  nod  ;  and  I  say,  I. 

Pro.  And  that  set  together,  is — noddy. 

Speed.  Now  you  have  taken  the  pains  to  set  it 
together,  take  it  for  your  pains. 

Pro.  No,  no,  you  shall  have  it  for  bearing  the 
letter. 

Speed.  Well,  I  perceive,  I  must  be  fain  to  bear 
with  you. 

Pro.  Why,  sir,  how  do  you  bear  with  me  ? 

Speed.  Marry,  sir,  the  letter  very  orderly;  having 
nothing  but  the  word,  noddy,  for  my  pains. 

Pro.  Beshrew  me,  but  you  have  a  quick  wit. 

Speed.  And  yet  it  cannot  overtake  your  slow 
purse. 

Pro.  Come,  come,  open  the  matter  in  brief: 
What  said  she  ? 

Speed.  Open  your  purse,  that  the  money,  and 
the  matter,  may  be  both  at  once  delivered. 

Pro.  Well,  sir,  here  is  for  your  pains :  What 
said  she  ? 

Speed.  Truly,  sir,  I  think  you'll  hardly  win  her. 

Pro.  Why  ?  Could'st  thou  perceive  so  much 
from  her  ? 

Speed.  Sir,  I  could  perceive  nothing  at  all  from 
her ;  no,  not  so  much  as  a  ducat  for  delivering 
your  letter  :  And  being  so  hard  to  me  that  brought 

Again,  in  Wits  Private  Wealthy  l6l2:  "  If  you  see  a  trull, 
scarce  give  her  a  nod,  but  follow  her  not,  least  you  prove  a 
noddy.'''' 

Again,  in  Cobles  Prophecies,  l6l4: 

"  When  fashions  make  mens  bodies 

"  And  wits  are  rul'd  by  noddies.''*     Reed. 


183  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  u 

your  mind,  I  fear,  she'll  prove  as  hard  to  you  in 
telling  her  mind. 8  Give  her  no  token  but  stones ; 
for  she's  as  hard  as  steel. 

Pro.  What,  said  she  nothing  ? 

Speed.  No,  not  so  much  as — take  this  for  thy 
pains.  To  testify  your  bounty,  I  thank  you,  you 
have  testern'd  me ;-■  in  requital  whereof,  hence- 
forth carry  your  letters  yourself:  and  so,  sir,  I'll 
commend  you  to  my  master. 

Pro.  Go,  go,  be  gone,  to  save  your  ship  from 
wreck ; 
Which  cannot  perish,1  having  thee  aboard, 
Being  destined  to  a  drier  death  on  shore  : — 
I  must  go  send  some  better  messenger ; 
I  fear,  my  Julia  would  not  deign  my  lines, 
Receiving  them  from  such  a  worthless  post. 

\_Exeunt. 


8  in  telling  her  mind."]  The  old  copy  has  "  —  in  telling 

your  mind."     But  as  this  reading  is  to  me  unintelligible,  I  have 
adopted  the  emendation  of  the  second  folio.     Steevens. 

The  old  copy  is  certainly  right.  The  meaning  is — She  being 
so  hard  to  me  who  was  the  bearer  of  your  mind,  I  fear  she  will 
prove  no  less  so  to  you,  when  you  address  her  in  person.  The 
opposition  is  between  brought  and  telling.     Malone. 

9  you  have  testern'd  me  ;]  You  have  gratified  me  with  a 

tester,  testern,  or  testen,  that  is,  with  a  sixpence.     Johnson. 

By  the  succeeding  quotation  from  the  Fruitful  Sermons 
preached  by  Hugh  Latimer,  15H4,fol.  ()i,  it  appears  that  a  tester 
was  of  greater  value  than  our  sixpence  :  "  They  brought  him  a 
denari,  a  piece  of  their  current  coyne  that  was  worth  ten  of  our 
usual  pence,  such  another  piece  as  our  testerne^     Holt  White. 

The  old  reading  is  cestern'd.  This  typographical  error  was 
corrected  by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio.     Malone. 

1  Which  cannot  perish,  &c]  The  same  proverb  has  already 
been  alluded  to  in  the  first  and  last  scenes  of  The  Tempest.  Reed. 


sen.  OF  VERONA.  189 

SCENE  II. 

The  same.     Garden  of  Julia's  house. 

Enter  Julia  and  Lucetta. 

Jul.  But  say,  Lucetta,  now  we  are  alone, 
Would'st  thou  then  counsel  me  to  fall  in  love  ? 

Luc.  Ay,  madam  ;  so  you  stumble  not  unheed- 
fully. 

Jul.  Of  all  the  fair  resort  of  gentlemen, 
That  every  day  with  parle  encounter  me, 
In  thy  opinion,  which  is  worthiest  love  ? 

Luc.  Please  you,  repeat  their  names,  I'll  shew 
my  mind 
According  to  my  shallow  simple  skill. 

Jul.  What  think'st  thou  of  the  fair  Sir  Egla- 
mour  ?  ~ 

Luc.  As  of  a  knight  well-spoken,  neat  and  fine ; 
But,  were  I  you,  he  never  should  be  mine. 3 

Jul.  What  think'st  thou  of  the  rich  Mercatio  ? 

Luc.  Well  of  his  wealth  ;  bit  of  himself,  so,  so. 


1  What  think'st  thou  of  the  fair  Sir  Eglamour  ?]  This  Sir 
Eglamour  must  not  be  confounded  with  the  persona  dramatis  of 
the  same  name.  The  latter  lived  at  Milan,  and  had  vowed 
"  pure  chastity"  upon  the  death  of  his  "  true  love."     Ritson. 

he  [Sir  Eglamour]  never  should  he  mine.']  Perhaps  Sir 


l      xmour  was  once  the  common  cant  term  for  an  insignificant 
inamorato.     So,  in  Decker's  Saliromastix  : 

"  Adieu,  sir  Eglamour  ;  adieu  lute-string,  curtain-rod,  goose- 
quill,"  firC.  Sir  Eg/amour  of  Artoi/s  indeed  is  the  hero  of  an 
ancient  metrical  romance,"  Imprinted  at  London,  in  Foster-lane, 
at  the  eygne  of  the  Ilarteshorne,  by  John  Walley,"  bl.  1.  no  date. 

Steevens. 


190  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  i. 

Jul.  What  think'st  thou  of  the  gentle  Proteus  ? 

Luc.  Lord,  lord !  to  see  what  folly  reigns  in  us ! 

Jul.  How  now !  what  means  this  passion  at  his 
name  ? 

Luc.  Pardon,  dear  madam  ;  'tis  a  passing  shame, 
That  I,  unworthy  body  as  I  am, 
Should  censure  thus  on  lovely  gentlemen. 4 

Jul.  Why  not  on  Proteus,  as  of  all  the  rest  ? 

Luc.  Then  thus, of  many  good  I  think  him 

best. 

Jul.  Your  reason  ? 

Luc.  I  have  no  other  but  a  woman's  reason  ; 
I  think  him  so,  because  I  think  him  so. 

Jul.  And  would'st  thou  have  me  cast  my  love 
on  him  ? 

Luc.  Ay,  if  you  thought  your  love  not  cast  away. 

Jul.  Why,  he  of  all  the  rest  hath  never  mov'd  me. 

Luc.  Yet  he  of  all  the  rest,  I  think,  best  loves  ye. 

Jul.   His  little  speaking  shows   his  love   but 

small. 

Luc.  Fire,  that  is  closest  kept,  burns  most  of  all. 

Jul.  They  do  not  love,  that  do  not  show  their 
love. 

Luc.  O,  they  love  least,  that  let  men  know  their 
love. 

Jul.  I  would,  I  knew  his  mind. 

*  Should  censure  thus  &c]  To  censure  means,  in  this  place, 
to  pass  sentence.  So,  in  Hinde's  Eliosto  Libidinoso,  1606 : 
"  Eliosto  and  Cleodora  were  astonished  at  such  a  hard  censuret 
and  went  to  limbo  most  willingly."     Steevens. 

To  censure,  in  our  author's  time,  generally  signified  to  give 
one's  judgement  or  opinion.     Malone. 


sc.  n.  OF  VERONA.  191 

Luc.  Peruse  this  paper,  madam. 

Jul.  To  Julia, — Say,  from  whom  ? 

Luc.  That  the  contents  will  shew. 

Jul.  Say,  say  ;  who  gave  it  thee  ? 

Luc.  Sir  Valentine's  page  ;  and  sent,  I  think, 
from  Proteus : 
He  would  have  given  it  you,  but  I,  being  in  the  way, 
Did  in  your  namereceiveit;  pardon  the  fault,  Ipray. 

Jul.  Now,  by  my  modesty,  a  goodly  broker ! 5 
Dare  you  presume  to  harbour  wanton  lines  ? 
To  whisper  and  conspire  against  my  youth  ? 
Now,  trust  me,  'tis  an  office  of  great  worth, 
And  you  an  officer  fit  for  the  place. 
There,  take  the  paper,  see  it  be  return'd ; 
Or  else  return  no  more  into  my  sight. 

Luc.  To  plead  for  love  deserves  more  fee  than 
hate. 

Jul.  Will  you  be  gone  ? 

Luc.  That  you  may  ruminate.  \Lccit. 

Jul.  And  yet,  I  would,  I  had  o'erlook'd  the 
letter. 
It  were  a  shame  to  call  her  back  again, 
And  pray  her  to  a  fault  for  which  I  chid  her. 
What  fool  is  she,  that  knows  I  am  a  maid, 
And  would  not  force  the  letter  to  my  view  ? 
Since  maids,  in  modesty,  say  No,  to  that" 


4  a  goodly  broker  !]  A  broker  was  used  for  matchmaker, 

sometimes  tor  a  procuress.     Johnson. 

So,  in  Daniel's  Complaint  of  Rosamond,  1599: 
"  And  flic  (o  flic)  these  bed-brokers  unclean, 
"  The  monsters  of  our  sex,"  &c.     Steevens. 

say  No,  to  that  ftp.]  A  paraphrase  on  the  old  proverb 


Maids  say  nay,  and  take  it."     Steevens. 


193  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  i. 

Which  they  would  have  the  profferer  construe,  Ay. 
Fie,  fie !  how  wayward  is  this  foolish  love, 
That,  like  a  testy  babe,  will  scratch  the  nurse, 
And  presently,  all  humbled,  kiss  the  rod ! 
How  churlishly  I  chid  Lucetta  hence, 
When  willingly  I  would  have  had  her  here ! 
How  angerly  I  taught  my  brow  to  frown, 
When  inward  joy  enforc'd  my  heart  to  smile  ! 
My  penance  is,  to  call  Lucetta  back, 
And  ask  remission  for  my  folly  past : — 
What  ho !  Lucetta ! 

Re-enter  Lucetta. 

L  uc.  What  would  your  ladyship  ? 

Jul.  Is  it  near  dinner-time  ? 

Luc.  I  would  it  were ; 

That  you  might  kill  your  stomach  on  your  meat, 7 
And  not  upon  your  maid. 

Jul.  What  is't  you  took  up 

So  gingerly  ? 

Luc.  Nothing. 

Jul.  Why  did'st  thou  stoop  then  ? 

Luc.  To  take  a  paper  up  that  I  let  fall. 

Jul.  And  is  that  paper  nothing  ? 

IjUC.  Nothing  concerning  me. 

Jul.  Then  let  it  lie  for  those  that  it  concerns. 

Luc.  Madam,  it  will  not  lie  where  it  concerns, 
Unless  it  have  a  false  interpreter. 

Jul.  Some  love  of  yours  hath  writ  to  you  in 
rhyme. 

7  stomach  on  your  meat,']  Stomach  was  used  for  passion 

or  obstinacy.    Johnson. 


sc.  il  OF  VERONA.  193 

Luc.  That  I  might  sing  it,  madam,  to  a  tune  : 
Give  me  a  note  :  your  ladyship  can  set. 

Jul.  As  little  by  such  toys  as  may  be  possible  : 
Best  sing  it  to  the  tune  of  Light  o'  love} 

Luc.  It  is  too  heavy  for  so  light  a  tune. 

Jul.  Heavy  ?  belike,  it  hath  some  burden  then. 

Luc.  Ay ;  and  melodious  were  it,  would  you 
sing  it. 

Jul.  And  why  not  you  ? 

Luc.  I  cannot  reach  so  high. 

Jul.  Let's  see  your  song : — How  now,  minion  ? 

Luc.  Keep  tune  there  still,  so  you  will  sing  it  out : 
And  yet,  methinks,  I  do  not  like  this  tune. 

Jul.  You  do  not  ? 

Luc.  No,  madam  ;  it  is  too  sharp. 

Jul.  You,  minion,  are  too  saucy. 

Luc.  Nay,  now  you  are  too  flat, 
And  mar  the  concord  with  too  harsh  a  descant  :9 
There  wanteth  but  a  mean ■  to  fill  your  song. 

Jul.  The  mean  is  drown'd  with  your  unruly  base. 

Luc.  Indeed,  I  bid  the  base  for  Proteus.2 

•  Light  o*  love.']  This  tune  is  given  in  a  note  on  Much  Ado 
about  Nothing,  Act  III.  sc.  iv.     Steevens. 

'  too  harsh  a  descant :]  Descant  is  a  term  in  music.  See 

Sir  John  Hawkins's  note  on  the  first  speech  in  K.  Richard  III. 

Steevens. 

1  but  a  mean  &c]  The  mean  is  the  tenor  in  music.     So, 

in  the  enterlude  of  Mary  Magdalen1  s  Repentance,  15£>y  : 
"  Utilitie  can  sing  the  base  full  cleane, 
"  And  noble  honour  shall  sing  the  mcane."     Steevens. 

*  Indeed,  I  bid  the  base  Jbr  Proteus.']  The  speaker  here  turns 
the  allusion  ( which  her  mistress  employed )  from  the  base  in  musick 
to  a  country  exercise,  Bid  the  base  :  in  which  some  pursue,  and 
others  are  made  prisoners.     So  that  Lucetta  would  intend,  by 

VOL.  IV.  O 


194  TWO  GENTLEMEN  acti. 

Jul.  This  babble  shall  not  henceforth  trouble  me. 
Here  is  a  coil  with  protestation ! — 

\_Tears  the  letter. 
Go,  get  you  gone  ;  and  let  the  papers  lie  : 
You  would  be  fingering  them,  to  anger  me. 

Luc.  She  makes  it  strange ;  but  she  would  be  best 
pleas'd 
To  be  so  anger' d  with  another  letter.  \_Exit. 

Jul.  Nay,  would  I  were  so  anger'd  with  the  same ! 

0  hateful  hands,  to  tear  such  loving  words  1 
Injurious  wasps !  to  feed  on  such  sweet  honey, 
And  kill  the  bees,  that  yield  it,  with  your  stings  I 
I'll  kiss  each  several  paper  for  amends. 

And,  here  is  writ — kind  Julia ; — unkind  Julia  1 
As  in  revenge  of  thy  ingratitude, 

1  throw  thy  name  against  the  bruising  stones, 
Trampling  contemptuously  on  thy  disdain. 
Look,  here  is  writ — love-wounded  Proteus : — 
Poor  wounded  name !  my  bosom,  as  a  bed, 


this,  to  say,  Indeed  I  take  pains  to  make  you  a  captive  to 
Proteus's  passion. — He  uses  the  same  allusion  in  his  Venus  and 
Adonis  : 

"  To  bid  the  winds  a  base  he  now  prepares." 
And  in  his  Cymbeline  he  mentions  the  game : 

" Lads  more  like 

"  To  run  the  country  base."     Warburton. 

Dr.  Warburton  is  not  quite  accurate.  The  game  was  not  called 
Bid  the  Base,  but  the  Base.  To  bid  the  base  means  here,  I  be- 
lieve, to  challenge  to  a  contest.  So,  in  our  author's  Venus  and 
Adonis : 

"  To  bid  the  wind  a  base  he  now  prepares, 
"  And  wh'er  he  run,  or  fly,  they  knew  not  whether." 
Again,in  Hall's  Chronicle,  Hen.VI.  183 :  "  The  queen  marched 
from  York  to  Wakefield,  and  bade  base  to  the  duke,  even  before 
his  castle."     Malone. 

Mr.  Malone's  explanation  of  the  verb — bid,  is  unquestionably 
just.     So,  in  one  of  the  parts  of  A'.  Henry  VI: 

"  Of  force  enough  to  bid  his  brother  battle."  Steevens. 


sc.  n.  OF  VERONA.  195 

Shall  lodge  thee,  till  thy  wound  be  throughly  heal'd; 

And  thus  I  search  it  with  a  sovereign  kiss. 

But  twice,  or  thrice,  was  Proteus  written  down  ?3 

Be  calm,  good  wind,  blow  not  a  word  away, 

Till  I  have  found  each  letter  in  the  letter, 

Except  mine  own  name  ;  that  some  whirlwind  bear 

Unto  a  ragged,  fearful,  hanging  rock, 

And  throw  it  thence  into  the  raging  sea ! 

Lo,  here  in  one  line  is  his  name  twice  writ,— 

Poor  forlorn  Proteus,  passionate  Proteus, 

To  the  meet  Julia ;  that  I'll  tear  away ; 

And  yet  I  will  not,  sith  so  prettily 

He  couples  it  to  his  complaining  names ; 

Thus  will  I  fold  them  one  upon  another ; 

Now  kiss,  embrace,  contend,  do  what  you  will. 

Re-enter  Lucetta. 

hue.  Madam,  dinner's  ready,  and  your  father 
stays. 

Jul.  Well,  let  us  go. 

Luc.  What,  shall  these  papers  lie  like  tell-tales 
here  ? 

Jul.  If  you  respect  them,  best  to  take  them  up. 

hue.  Nay,  I  was  taken  up  for  laying  them  down : 
Yet  here  they  shall  not  lie,  for  catching  cold.4 

*  written  down  ?]  To  write  down  is  still  a  provincial  ex- 
pression for  to  write.     Henley. 

4   Yet  here  the//  shall  not  lie,  for  catching  cold.]  That  is,  as 
Mr.  M.  Mason  observes,  lest  they  shoidd  catch  cold.     This  mode 
of  expression  (he  adds)  is  not  frequent  in  Shakspeare,  but  occurs 
in  every  play  of  Beaumont  and  Fletcher. 
So,  in  The  Captain: 

"  We'll  have  a  b\b,  for  spoiling  of  your  doublet." 
Again,  in  Love's  Pilgrimage: 

"  Stir  my  horse,  for  catching  cold." 

O  2 


196  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  i. 

Jul.  I  see,  you  have  a  month's  mind  to  them.5 


Again,  in  The  Pilgrim ; 

"  All  her  face  patch'd,yor  discovery." 
To  these  I  shall  add  another  instance  from  Barnabie  Riche's 
Souldiers  Wishe  to  Britons  Welfare,  or  Captaine  Skill  and 
Captaine  Pill,  lt>04,  p.  64  :  "  —  such  other  ill  disposed  persons, 
being  once  pressed  must  be  kept  with  continuall  guard,  &c.Jbr 
running  away" 

Again,  in  Chapman's  version  of  the  first  Iliad: 

" then  forked  anchor  cast, 

"  And  'gainst  the  violence  of  storms,  for  drifting  made 
her  fast." 
Again,  in  Tusser's  Five  Hundred  Pointes  of  Good  Husbandrie, 
1536: 

"  Take  heed  how  thou  laiest  the  bane  for  the  rats, 
"  For  poisoning  thy  servant,  thyself,  and  thy  brats." 

Steevens. 

s  I  see,  you  have  a  month's  mind  to  them.']  A  month's  mind 
was  an  anniversary  in  times  of  popery ;  or,  as  Mr.  Ray  calls  it, 
a  less  solemnity  directed  by  the  will  of  the  deceased.  There  was 
also  a  year's  mind,  and  a  week's  mind.     See  Proverbial  Phrases. 

This  appears  from  the  interrogatories  and  observations  against 
the  clergy,  in  the  year  1552,  Inter.  7 :  "  Whether  there  are  any 
months'  minds,  and  anniversaries?"  Strype's  Memorials  of  the 
Reformation,  Vol.  II.  p.  354. 

"  Was  the  month's  mind  of  Sir  William  Laxton,  who  died  the 
last  month,  (July  1556,)  his  hearse  burning  with  wax,  and  the 
morrow  mass  celebrated,  and  a  sermon  preached,"  &c.  Strype's 
Mem.  Vol.  III.  p.  305.     Grey. 

A  month's  mind,  in  the  ritual  sense,  signifies  not  desire  or  in- 
clination, but  remembrance ;  yet  I  suppose  this  is  the  true  ori- 
ginal of  the  expression.    Johnson. 

In  Hampshire,  and  other  western  counties,  for  "  I  can't  re- 
member it,"  they  say,  "  I  can't  mind  it."     Blackstone. 

Puttenham,  in  his  Art  of  Poetry,  1589,  chap.  24,  speaking 
of  Poetical  Lamentations,  says,  they  were  chiefly  used  "  at  the 
burials  of  the  dead,  also  at  month's  minds,  and  longer  times :" 
and  the  churchwardens'  accompts  of  St.  Helen's  in  Abingdon, 
Berkshire,  1558,  these  month's  minds,  and  the  expences  attend- 
ing them,  are  frequently  mentioned.  Instead  of  month's  mindsy 
they  are  sometimes  called  month's  monuments,  and  in  the  Injunc- 
tions of  K.  Edward  VI.  memories,  Injunct,  21.     By  memories, 


sc.  in.  OF  VERONA.  197 

Luc.  Ay,  madam,  you  may  say  what  sights  you 
see ; 
I  see  things  too,  although  you  judge  I  wink. 

Jul.  Come,  come,  will't  please  you  go  ? 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE  III. 

The  same.     A  Room  in  Antonio's  House. 

Enter  Antonio  and  Panthino. 

Ant.  Tell  me,  Panthino,  what  sad  talk6  was  that, 
Wherewith  my  brother  held  you  in  the  cloister  ? 

Pant.  'Twas  of  his  nephew  Proteus,  your  son. 

Ant.  Why,  what  of  him  ? 

Pant.  He  wonder'd,  that  your  lordship 

Would  suffer  him  to  spend  his  youth  at  home ; 
While  other  men,  of  slender  reputation,7 
Put  forth  their  sons  to  seek  preferment  out : 
Some,  to  the  wars,  to  try  their  fortune  there ; 

says  Fuller,  we  understand  the  Obsequiafor  the  dead,  which  some 
say  succeeded  in  the  place  of  the  heathen  Parentalia. 

If  this  line  was  designed  for  a  verse,  we  should  read — monthes 
mind.     So,  in  A  Midsummer  Night's  Dream  ; 
"  Swifter  than  the  moonw  sphere." 

Both  these  are  the  Saxon  genitive  case.     Steevens. 

'         ■  what  sad  talk  — ]  Sad  is  the  same  as  grave  or  serious. 

Johnson. 
So,  in  The  Wise  Woman  of  Hogsden,  1638  : 

"  Marry,  sir  knight,  I  saw  them  in  sad  talk, 
"  But  to  say  they  were  directly  whispering,"  &c. 
Again,  in  Whetstone's  Promos  and  Cassandra,  15/8  : 

"  The  king  feigneth  to  talk  sadly  with  some  of  his  counsel." 

Steevens. 

7 of  slender  reputation,]  i.  e.  who  are  thought  slightly  of, 

are  of  little  consequence.     Steevens. 


19S  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  i. 

Some,  to  discover  islands  far  away;8 

Some,  to  the  studious  universities. 

For  any,  or  for  all  these  exercises, 

He  said,  that  Proteus,  your  son,  was  meet ; 

And  did  request  me,  to  importune  you, 

To  let  him  spend  his  time  no  more  at  home, 

Which  would  be  great  impeachment  to  his  age,9 

In  having  known  no  travel  in  his  youth. 

Ant.  Nor  need'st  thou  much  importune  me  to 
that 
Whereon  this  month  I  have  been  hammering. 
I  have  consider'd  well  his  loss  of  time ; 
And  how  he  cannot  be  a  perfect  man, 
Not  being  try'd,  and  tutor'd  in  the  world : 
Experience  is  by  industry  atchiev'd, 
And  perfected  by  the  swift  course  of  time : 
Then,  tell  me,  whither  were  I  best  to  send  him  ? 

Pant.  I  think,  your  lordship  is  not  ignorant, 
How  his  companion,  youthful  Valentine, 
Attends  the  emperor  in  his  royal  court.1 

8  Sotne  to  discover  islands  far  away  ;~\  In  Shakspeare's  time, 
voyages  for  the  discovery  of  the  islands  of  America  were  much 
in  vogue.  And  we  find,  in  the  journals  of  the  travellers  of  that 
time,  that  the  sons  of  noblemen,  and  of  others  of  the  best 
families  in  England,  went  very  frequently  on  these  adventures. 
Such  as  the  Fortescues,  Collitons,  Thornhills,  Farmers,  Picker- 
ings, Littletons,  Willoughbys,  Chesters,  Hawleys,  Bromleys,  and 
others.  To  this  prevailing  fashion  our  poet  frequently  alludes, 
and  not  without  high  commendations  of  it.     Warburton. 

9  great  impeachment  to  his  age,]  Impeachment,  as  Mr. 

M.  Mason  very  justly  observes,  in  this  instance  signifies  reproach 
or  imputation.  So,  Demetrius  says  to  Helena  in  A  Midsummer 
Night's  Dream: 

"  You  do  impeach  your  modesty  too  much, 

"  To  leave  the  city,  and  commit  yourself 

"  Into  the  hands  of  one  that  loves  you  not."  Steevens. 

1  Attends  the  emperor  in  his  royal  court.']  Shakspeare  has  been 
guilty  of  no  mistake  in  placing  the  emperor's  court  at  Milan  in 
this  play*  Several  of  the  first  German  emperors  held  their  courts 


sc.  m.  OF  VERONA.  199 

Ant.  I  know  it  well. 

Pant.  'Twere  good,  I  think,  your  lordship  sent 
him  thither: 
There  shall  he  practise  tilts  and  tournaments, 
Hear  sweet  discourse,  converse  with  noblemen ; 
And  be  in  eye  of  every  exercise, 
Worthy  his  youth  and  nobleness  of  birth. 

Ant.  I  like  thy  counsel ;  well  hast  thou  advis'd  : 
And,  that  thou  may'st  perceive  how  well  I  like  it, 
The  execution  of  it  shall  make  known  ; 
Even  with  the  speediest  expedition 
I  will  despatch  him  to  the  emperor's  court. 

Pant.     To-morrow,    may  it  please  you,  Don 
Alphonso, 
With  other  gentlemen  of  good  esteem, 
Are  journeying  to  salute  the  emperor, 
And  to  commend  their  service  to  his  will. 

Ant.  Good  company;  with  them  shall  Proteus  go: 
And,  in  good  time,2 — now  will  we  break  with  him.3 


there  occasionally,  it  being,  at  that  time,  their  immediate  pro- 
perty, and  the  chief  town  of  their  Italian  dominions.  Some  of 
them  were  crowned  kings  of  Italy  at  Milan,  before  they  received 
the  imperial  crown  at  Rome.  Nor  has  the  poet  fallen  into  any 
contradiction  by  giving  a  duke  to  Milan  at  the  same  time  that  the 
emperor  held  his  court  there.  The  first  dukes  of  that,  and  all 
the  other  great  cities  in  Italy,  were  not  sovereign  princes,  as  they 
afterwards  became ;  but  were  merely  governors,  or  viceroys, 
under  the  emperors,  and  removeable  at  their  pleasure.  Such 
was  the  Duke  of  Milan  mentioned  in  this  play.  Mr.  M.  Mason 
adds,  that  "  during  the  wars  in  Italy  between  Francis  I.  and 
Charles  V.  the  latter  frequently  resided  at  Milan."     Steevens. 

*  in  good  time,]  In  good  time  was  the  old  expression  when 

something  happened  that  suited  the  thing  in  hand,  as  the  French 
say  apropos.    Johnson. 

So,  in  Richard  III : 

"  And,  in  good  time,  here  comes  the  sweating  lord." 

Steevens. 


200  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  i. 


Enter  Proteus. 

Pro.  Sweet  love!  sweet  lines L  sweet  life! 
Here  is  her  hand,  the  agent  of  her  heart; 
Here  is  her  oath  for  love,  her  honour's  pawn: 
O,  that  our  fathers  would  applaud  our  loves, 
To  seal  our  happiness  with  their  consents! 

0  heavenly  Julia ! 

Ant.    How  now?  what  letter  are  you  reading 
there? 

Pro.  May't  please  your  lordship,  'tis  a  word  or 
two 
Of  commendation  sent  from  Valentine, 
Deliver'd  by  a  friend  that  came  from  him. 

Ant.  Lend  me  the  letter ;  let  me  see  what  news. 

Pro.  There  is  no  news,mylord;  but  that  he  writes 
How  happily  he  lives,  how  well  belov'd, 
And  daily  graced  by  the  emperor; 
Wishing  me  with  him,  partner  of  his  fortune. 

Ant.  And  how  stand  you  affected  to  his  wish? 

Pro.  As  one  relying  on  your  lordship's  will, 
And  not  depending  on  his  friendly  wish. 

Ant.  My  will  is  something  sorted  with  his  wish: 
Muse  not  that  I  thus  suddenly  proceed; 
For  what  I  will,  I  will,  and  there  an  end. 

1  am  resolv'd,  that  thou  shalt  spend  some  time 
With  Valentinus  in  the  emperor's  court; 
What  maintenance  he  from  his  friends  receives, 
Like  exhibition4  thou  shalt  have  from  me. 


3  ;■  now  will  we  break  with  him."]  That  is,  break  the  matter 
to  him.  The  same  phrase  occurs  in  Much  Ado  about  Nothing) 
Act  I.  sc.  i.     M.  Mason. 

4  Like  exhibition — ]  i.  e.  allowance. 


sc.  in.  OF  VERONA.  201 

To-morrow  be  in  readiness  to  go  : 
Excuse  it  not,  for  I  am  peremptory. 

Pro.  My  lord,  I  cannot  be  so  soon  provided  ; 
Please  you,  deliberate  a  day  or  two. 

Ant.  Look,  what  thou  want'st,  shall  be  sent 
after  thee : 
No  more  of  stay ;  to-morrow  thou  must  go. — 
Come  on,  Panthino  ;  you  shall  be  employ'd 
To  hasten  on  his  expedition. 

[Exeunt  Ant.  and  Pant. 

Pro.  Thus  have  I  shunn'd  the  fire,  for  fear  of 
burning ; 
And  drench'd  me  in  the  sea,  where  I  am  drown'd  : 
I  fear'd  to  shew  my  father  Julia's  letter, 
Lest  he  should  take  exceptions  to  my  love  ; 
And  with  the  vantage  of  mine  own  excuse 
Hath  he  excepted  most  against  my  love. 
O,  how  this  spring  of  love  resembleth 5 


So,  in  Othello  : 

"  Due  reference  of  place  and  exhibition." 
Again,  in  the  Devil's  Laiv  Case,  1623  : 

" in  his  riot  does  far  exceed  the  exhibition  I  al- 
lowed him."     Steevens. 

*  O,  how  this  spring  of  love  resembleth — ]  At  the  end  of 
this  verse  there  is  wanting  a  syllable,  for  the  speech  apparently 
ends  in  a  quatrain.  I  find  nothing  that  will  rhyme  to  sun,  and 
therefore  shall  leave  it  to  some  happier  critic.  But  I  suspect 
that  the  author  might  write  thus : 

0  hoxv  this  spring  of  love  resembleth  right, 

The  uncertain  glory  of  an  April  day  ; 
Which  now  shews  all  the  glory  of  the  light, 
And  by  and  by  a  cloud  takes  all  aivay  I 
Light  was  either  by  negligence  or  affectation  changed  to  sun, 
which,  considered  without  the  rhyme,   is  indeed  better.     The 
next  transcriber,  finding  that  the  word  right  did  not  rhyme  to  sun, 
supposed  it  erroneously  written,  and  left  it  out.     Johnson. 

It  was  not  always  the  custom,  among  our  early  writers,  to  make 
the  first  and  third  lines  rhyme  to  each  other  ;  and  when  a  word 


202  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  I. 

The  uncertain  glory  of  an  April  day ; 
Which  now  shows  all  the  beauty  of  the  sun, 
And  by  and  by  a  cloud  takes  all  away ! 


was  not  long  enough  to  complete  the  measure,  they  occasionally 
extended  it.     Thus  Spenser,  in  his  Fairy  Queen,  B.  III.  c.  12: 

"  Formerly  grounded  and  fast  setteled." 
Again,  in  B.  II.  ch.  12: 

"  The  while  sweet  Zephirus  loud  whisteled 

"  His  treble,  a  strange  kind  of  harmony  ; 

"  Which  Guyon's  senses  softly  ticketed,"  &c. 
From  this  practice,  I  suppose,  our  author  wrote  resembeletk, 
which,  though  it  aifords  no  jingle,  completes  the  verse.     Many 
poems  have  been  written  in  this  measure,  where  the  second  and 
fourth  lines  only  rhyme.     Steevens. 

Resembleth  is  here  used  as  a  quadrisyllable,  as  if  it  was  written 
resembeleth.     See  Comedy  of  Errors,  Act  V.  sc.  the  last: 

"  And  these  two  Dromios,  one  in  semblance" 
As  you  like  it,  Act  II.  sc.  ii : 

"  The  parts  and  graces  of  the  tvrestler." 
And  it  should  be  observed,  that  Shakspeare  takes  the  same  li- 
berty with  many  other  words,   in  which  I,  or  r,  is  subjoined  to 
another  consonant.     See  Comedy  qf  Errors,  next  verse  but  one 
to  that  cited  above : 

"  These  are  the  parents  to  these  children.'* 
where  some  editors,  being  unnecessarily  alarmed  for  the  metre, 
have  endeavoured  to  help  it  by  a  word  of  their  own  : 

"  These  plainly  are  the  parents  to  these  children." 

Tyrwhitt. 

Thus  much  I  had  thought  sufficient  to  say  upon  this  point,  in 
the  edition  of  these  plays  published  by  Mr.  Steevens  in  177^* 
Since  which  the  author  of  Remarks,  &c.  on  that  edition  has  been 
pleased  to  assert,  p.  7  :  "  that  Shakspeare  does  not  appear,  from 
the  above  instances  at  least,  to  have  taken  the  smallest  liberty  in 
extending  his  words :  neither  has  the  incident  of  /,  or  /-,  being 
subjoined  to  another  consonant  any  thing  to  do  in  the  matter." — 
"  The  truth  is,"  he  goes  on  to  say,  "  that  every  verb  in  the 
English  language  gains  an  additional  syllable  by  its  termination 
in  est,  eth,  ed,  ing,  or  (when  formed  into  a  substantive)  in  err- 
and the  above  words,  token  rightly  printed,  are  not  only  unex- 
ceptionable, but  most  just.  Thus  resemble  makes  resemble-eth  ; 
•wrestle,  ivrestle-er ;  and  settle,  "whistle,  tickle,  make  settle-ed, 
lohistle-ed,  tickle-ed.** 

As  to  this  supposed  Canon  of  the  English  language,  it  would  be 


sc.  in.  OF  VERONA.  203 


Re-enter  Panthino. 

Pant.  Sir  Proteus,  your  father  calls  for  you 
He  is  in  haste,  therefore,  I  pray  you,  go. 


easy  to  shew  that  it  Is  quite  fanciful  and  unfounded  ;  and  what 
lie  calls  the  right  method  of  printing  the  above  words  is  such  as,  I 
believe,  was  never  adopted  before  by  any  mortal  in  writing  them, 
nor  can  be  followed  in  the  pronunciation  of  them  without  the 
help  of  an  entirely  new  system  of  spelling.  But  any  further  dis- 
cussion of  this  matter  is  unnecessary  ;  because  the  hypothesis, 
though  allowed  in  its  utmost  extent,  will  not  prove  either  of  the 
points  to  which  it  is  applied.  It  will  neither  prove  that  Shak- 
speare  has  not  taken  a  liberty  in  extending  certain  words,  nor 
that  he  has  not  taken  that  liberty  chiefly  with  words  in  which  /, 
or  r,  is  subjoined  to  another  consonant.  The  following  are  all 
instances  of  nouns,  substantive  or  adjective,  which  can  receive 
no  support  from  the  supposed  Canon.  That  Shakspeare  has 
taken  a  liberty  in  extending  these  words  is  evident,  from  the 
consideration,  that  the  same  words  are  more  frequently  used,  by 
his  contemporaries  and  by  himself,  without  the  additional  syl- 
lable. Why  he  has  taken  this  liberty  chiefly  with  words  in 
which  /,  or  r,  is  subjoined  to  another  consonant,  must  be  obvi- 
ous to  any  one  who  can  pronounce  the  language. 

Country,  trisyllable. 
T.  N.  Act  I.  sc.  ii.  The  like  of  him.  Know'st  thou  this  country  ? 
Coriol.  Act  I.  sc.  iii.  Die  nobly  for  their  country,  than  one. 

Remembrance,  quadrisyllable. 
T.  N.  Act  I.  sc.  i.  And  lasting  in  her  sad  remembrance. 
W.  T.  Act  IV.  sc.  iv.  Grace  and  remembrance  be  to  you  both. 

Angry,  trisyllable. 
Timon.  Act  III.  sc.  v.  But  who  is  man,  that  is  not  angry. 

Henry,  trisyllable. 
Bich.  III.  Act  II.  sc.iii.Sostoodthestate,whenf/e«rj/the  Sixth—. 
2  H.  VI.  Act  II.  sc.  ii.  Crown'd  by  the  name  of  Henry  the  Fourth. 
And  so  in  many  other  passages. 

Monstrous,  trisyllable. 
Macb.  Act  IV.sc.  vi.  Who  cannot  want  the  thought  how  monstrous. 
Othello.  Act  II.  sc.  iii.  'Tis  monstrous.     1  ago,  who  began  it  ? 

Assembly,  quadrisyllable. 
M.  A.  A.  N.  Act  V.  sc.  last.  Good  morrow  to  this  fair  assembly. 

Douglas,  trisyllable. 
1  H.  IV.  Act  V.  sc.  ii.  Lord  Douglas  go  you  and  tell  him  so. 


204.  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  n. 

Pro.  "Why,  this  it  is !  my  heart  accords  thereto ; 
And  yet  a  thousand  times  it  answers,  no.  \_Eoceunt. 


ACT  II.    SCENE  I. 

.    Milan.     An  Apartment  in  the  Duke's  Palace. 

Enter  Valentine  and  Speed. 

Speed.  Sir,  your  glove. 

Val.  Not  mine  ;  my  gloves  are  on. 

Speed.  Why  then  this  may  be  yours,  for  this  is 
but  one.6 

Val.  Ha !  let  me  see :  ay,  give  it  me,  it's  mine : — • 
Sweet  ornament  that  decks  a  thing  divine ! 
Ah  Silvia !  Silvia ! 

Speed.  Madam  Silvia !  madam  Silvia ! 

Val.  How  now,  sirrah  ? 

Speed.  She  is  not  within  hearing,  sir. 

Val.  Why,  sir,  who  bade  you  call  her  ? 

Speed.  Your  worship,  sir  ;  or  else  I  mistook. 


England,  trisyllable. 
Rich.  II.  Act  IV.  sc.  i.  Than  Bolingbrooke  return  to  England. 

Humbler,  trisyllable. 
1  H.  VI.  Act  III.  sc.  i.  Methinks  his  lordship  should  be  humbler. 

Nobler,  trisyllable. 
Coriol.  Act  III.  sc.ii.  You  do  the  nobler.  Cor.  I  muse  my  mother — . 

Tyrwhitt. 

6  Val.  Not  mine  ;  my  gloves  are  on. 
Speed.  Why  then  this  may  be  yours,  for  this  is  but  one.] 
It  should  seem  from  this  passage,  that  the  word  one  was  an- 
ciently pronounced  as  if  it  were  written  on.  The  quibble  here 
is  lost  by  the  change  of  pronunciation ;  a  loss,  however,  which 
may  be  very  patiently  endured.    Malone. 


sc.  I.  OF  VERONA.  205 

Val.  Well,  you'll  still  be  too  forward. 

Speed.  And  yet  I  was  last  chidden  for  being 
too  slow. 

Val.  Go  to,  sir ;  tell  me,  do  you  know  madam 
Silvia  ? 

Speed.  She  that  your  worship  loves  ? 

Val.  Why,  how  know  you  that  I  am  in  love  ? 

Speed.  Marry,  by  these  special  marks :  First, 
you  have  learned,  like  sir  Proteus,  to  wreath  your 
arms  like  a  male-content ;  to  relish  a  love-song,  like 
a  Robin-red-breast ;  to  walk  alone,  like  one  that 
had  the  pestilence  ;  to  sigh,  like  a  school-boy  that 
had  lost  his  A.  B.  C;  to  weep,  like  a  young  wench 
that  had  buried  her  grandam  ;  to  fast,  like  one  that 
takes  diet ; 7  to  watch,  like  one  that  fears  robbing ; 
to  speak  puling,  like  a  beggar  at  Hallowmas.8  You 
were  wont,  when  you  laughed,  to  crow  like  a  cock  ; 
when  you  walked,  to  walk  like  one  of  the  lions  ; 9 

7  takes  diet ;]  To  take  diet  was  the  phrase  for  being  under 

regimen  for  a  disease  mentioned  in  Timon  of  Athens  : 

"  bring  down  the  rose-cheek'd  youth 

"  To  the  tub-fast  and  the  diet."     Steevens. 

Hallotvmas.'}  This  is  about  the  feast  of  All-Saints, 


when  winter  begins,  and  the  life  of  a  vagrant  becomes  less 
comfortable.     Johnson. 

It  is  worth  remarking  that  on  All-Saints-Day  the  poor  people 
in  Staffordshire,  and  perhaps  in  other  country  places,  go  from 
parish  to  parish  a  souling  as  they  call  it ;  i.  e.  begging  and 
puling  (or  singing  small,  as  Bailey's  Diet,  explains  puling, )  for 
soul-cakes,  or  any  good  thing  to  make  them  merry.  This  custom 
is  mentioned  by  Peck,  and  seems  a  remnant  of  Popish  supersti- 
tion to  pray  for  departed  souls,  particularly  those  of  friends. 
The  souler's  song,  in  Staffordshire,  is  different  from  that  which 
Mr.  Peck  mentions,  and  is  by  no  means  worthy  publication.' 

Tollet. 

9  to  •walk  like  one  of  the  lions  ;]     If  our  author  had  not 

been  thinking  of  the  lions  in  the  Toiver,  he  would  have  writtea 
— "  to  walk  like  a  lion."     Kjtson. 


206  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  il 

when  you  fasted,  it  was  presently  after  dinner ; 
when  you  looked  sadly,  it  was  for  want  of  money : 
and  now  you  are  metamorphosed  with  a  mistress, 
that,  when  I  look  on  you,  I  can  hardly  think  you 
my  master. 

Val.  Are  all  these  things  perceived  in  me  ? 

Speed.  They  are  all  perceived  without  you. 

Val.  Without  me  ?  they  cannot. 

Speed.  Without  you  ?  nay,  that's  certain,  for, 
without  you  were  so  simple,  none  else  would  : 1  but 
you  are  so  without  these  follies,  that  these  follies  are 
within  you,  and  shine  through  you  like  the  water 
in  an  urinal ;  that  not  an  eye,  that  sees  you,  but 
is  a  physician  to  comment  on  your  malady. 

Val.  But,  tell  me,  dost  thou  know  my  lady  Silvia? 

Speed.  She,  that  you  gaze  on  so,  as  she  sits  at 
supper  ? 

Val.  Hast  thou  observed  that  ?  even  she  I  mean. 

Speed.  Why,  sir,  I  know  her  not. 

Val.  Dost  thou  know  her  by  my  gazing  on  her, 
and  yet  knowest  her  not  ? 

Speed.  Is  she  not  hard  favoured,  sir  ? 

Val.  Not  so  fair,  boy,  as  well  favoured. 

Speed.  Sir,  I  know  that  well  enough. 

Val.  What  dost  thou  know  ? 

Speed.  That  she  is  not  so  fair,  as  (of  you)  well 
favoured. 

Val.  I  mean,  that  her  beauty  is  exquisite,  but 
her  favour  infinite. 


•  none  else  would ;]  None  else  would  be  so  simple. 

Johnson. 


sc.  i.  OF  VERONA.  207 

Speed.  That's  because  the  one  is  painted,  and 
the  other  out  of  all  count. 

Val.  How  painted  ?  and  how  out  of  count  ? 

Speed.  Marry,  sir,  so  painted,  to  make  her  fair, 
that  no  man  counts  of  her  beauty. 

Val.  How  esteemest  thou  me  ?  I  account  of  her 
beauty. 

Speed.  You  never  sawhersinceshe  was  deformed. 

Val.  How  long  hath  she  been  deformed  ? 

Speed.  Ever  since  you  loved  her. 

Val.  I  have  loved  her  ever  since  I  saw  her ; 
and  still  I  see  her  beautiful. 

Speed.  If  you  love  her,  you  cannot  see  her. 

Val.  Why? 

Speed.  Because  love  is  blind.  O,  that  you  had 
mine  eyes ;  or  your  own  had  the  lights  they  were 
wont  to  have,  when  you  chid  at  sir  Proteus  for 
going  ungartered ! 2 

Val.  What  should  I  see  then  ? 

Speed.  Your  own  present  folly,  and  her  passing 
deformity :  for  he,  being  in  love,  could  not  see  to 
garter  his  hose  ;  and  you,  being  in  love,  cannot 
see  to  put  on  your  hose. 

Val.  Belike,  boy,  then  you  are  in  love  ;  for  last 
morning  you  could  not  see  to  wipe  my  shoes. 

Speed.  True,  sir  ;  I  was  in  love  with  my  bed  : 
I  thank  you,  you  swinged  me  for  my  love,  which 
makes  me  the  bolder  to  chide  you  for  yours. 


*  for  going  ungartered  !]  This  is  enumerated  by  Rosa- 
lind in  As  you  like  it.  Act  III.  sc.  ii.  as  one  of  the  undoubted 
marks  of  love  :  "  Then  your  hose  should  be  ungartered,  your 
bonnet  unbanded,"  &c.     Malone. 


208  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  n. 

Val.  In  conclusion,  I  stand  affected  to  her. 

Speed.  I  would  you  were  set ; 3  so,  your  af- 
fection would  cease. 

Val.  Last  night  she  enjoined  me  to  write  some 
lines  to  one  she  loves. 

Speed.  And  have  you  ? 

Val,  I  have. 

Speed.  Are  they  not  lamely  writ  ? 

Val.  No,  boy,  but  as  well  as  I  can  do  them  :— 
Peace,  here  she  comes. 

Enter  Silvia. 

Speed.  O  excellent  motion  !  O  exceeding  pup- 
pet !  now  will  he  interpret  to  her.4 

Val.  Madam  and  mistress,  a  thousand  good- 
morrows. 

Speed.  O,  'give  you  good  even !  here's  a  million 
of  manners.  \_Aside, 


3  I  would  you  were  set ;]  Set  for  seated,  in  opposition  to  stand, 
in  the  foregoing  line.     M.  Mason. 

4  O  excellent  motion !  &c.]  Motion,  in  Shakspeare's  time, 
signified  puppet.  In  Ben  Jonson's  Bartholomew  Fair  it  is  fre- 
quently used  in  that  sense,  or  rather  perhaps  to  signify  a  puppet- 
show  ;  the  master  whereof  may  properly  be  said  to  be  an  inter- 
preter, as  being  the  explainer  of  the  inarticulate  language  of  the 
actors.  The  speech  of  the  servant  is  an  allusion  to  that  practice, 
and  he  means  to  say,  that  Silvia  is  a  puppet,  and  that  Valentine 
is  to  interpret  to,  or  ratherybr  her.     Sir  J.  Hawkins. 

So,  in  The  City  Match,  1639,  by  Jasper  Maine  : 

" his  mother  came, 

"  Who  follows  strange  sights  out  of  town,  and  went 

"  To  Brentford  for  a  motion.''' 

Again,  in  The  Pilgrim  : 

" Nothing  but  a  motion? 

"  A  puppet  pilgrim  ?" Steevens. 


sc.  I.  OF  VERONA.  209 

Sil.  Sir  Valentine  and   servant,5  to   you  two 
thousand. 

Speed.  He  should  give  her  interest ;  and  she 
gives  it  him. 

Val.  As  you  enjoin'd  me,  I  have  writ  your  letter, 
Unto  the  secret  nameless  friend  of  yours; 
Which  I  was  much  unwilling  to  proceed  in, 
But  for  my  duty  to  your  ladyship. 

Sil.  I  thank  you,  gentle  servant :  'tis  very  clerkly 
done.0 

Val.  Now  trust  me,  madam,  it  came  hardly  off;7 
For,  being  ignorant  to  whom  it  goes, 
I  writ  at  random,  very  doubtfully. 

Sil.  Perchance  you  think  too  much  of  so  much 
pains  ? 

Val.  No,  madam  ;  so  it  stead  you,  I  will  write, 
Please  you  command,  a  thousand  times  as  much : 
And  yet, — 

Sil.  A  pretty  period !  Well,  I  guess  the  sequel ; 


4  Sir  Valentine  and  servant,]  Here  Silvia  calls  her  lover  ser- 
vant, and  again  below,  her  gentle  servant.  This  was  the  language 
of  ladies  to  their  lovers  at  the  time  when  Shakspeare  wrote. 

Sir  J.  Hawkins. 
So,  in  Marston's  What  you  xvill,  \Q0J  : 

"  Sweet  sister,  let's  sit  in  judgement  a  little ;  faith  upon 

my  servant  Monsieur  Laverdure. 
"  Mel.  Troth,  well  for  a  servant;  but  for  a  husband!" 
Again,  in  Ben  Jonson's  Every  Man  out  of  his  Humour: 

"  Every  man  was  not  born  with  my  servant  Brisk's  fea- 
tures."    Steevens. 

6  *tu  very  clerkly  done.~\  i.  e.  like  a  scholar.    So,  in  The 

Merry  Wives  of  Windsor: 

"  Thou  art  clerkly,  sir  John,  clerkly"     Steevens. 

7  it  came  hardly  off;]   A  similar  phrase  occurs  in  Thnon 

of  Athens,  Act  I.  sc.  i : 

"  This  comes  <yj'  well  and  excellent."     Steevens. 

VOL.  IV,  P 


210  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  u. 

And  yet  I  will  not  name  it : — and  yet  I  care  not ; — 
And  yet  take  this  again  ; — and  yet  I  thank  you ; 
Meaning  henceforth  to  trouble  you  no  more. 

Speed.  And  yet  you  will ;  and  yet  another  yet. 

\_Aside. 
Val.  What  means  your  ladyship  ?  do  you  not 
like  it  ? 

Sil.  Yes,  yes ;  the  lines  are  very  quaintly  writ : 
But  since  unwillingly,  take  them  again ; 
Nay,  take  them. 

Val,  Madam,  they  are  for  you. 

Sil.  Ay,  ay ;  you  writ  them,  sir,  at  my  request ; 
But  I  will  none  of  them ;  they  are  for  you : 
I  would  have  had  them  writ  more  movingly. 

Val.  Please  you,  I'll  write  your  ladyship  another. 

Sil.  And,  when  it's  writ,  for  my  sake  readit  over : 
And,  if  it  please  you,  so ;  if  not,  why,  so. 

Val,  If  it  please  me,  madam !  what  then  ? 

Sil.  Why,  if  it   please  you,  take  it  for  your 
labour ; 
And  so  good-morrow,  servant.  \_Exit  Silvia. 

Speed.  O  jest  unseen,  inscrutable,  invisible, 
As  a  nose  on  a  man's  face,  or  a  weathercock  on  a 

steeple ! 
My  master  sues  to  her;  and  she  hath  taught  her 

suitor, 
He  being  her  pupil,  to  become  her  tutor. 
O  excellent  device !  was  there  ever  heard  a  better  ? 
That  my  master,  being  scribe,  to  himself  should 

write  the  letter  ? 

Val.  How  now,  sir?  what  are  you  reasoning 
with  yourself?8 

9  '         reasoning  with  yourself?]  That  is,  discoursing,  talking. 
An  Italianism.    Johnson. 


JR.  J.  OF  VERONA.  211 

Speed.  Nay,  I  was  rhyming ;  'tis  you  that  have 
the  reason. 

Val.  To  do  what  ? 

Speed.  To  be  a  spokesman  from  madam  Silvia. 

Val.  To  whom  ? 

Speed.  To  yourself:  why,  she  wooes  you  by  a 
figure. 

Val.  What  figure  ? 

Speed.  By  a  letter,  I  should  say. 

Val.  Why,  she  hath  not  writ  to  me  ? 

Speed.  What  need  she,  when  she  hath  made 
you  write  to  yourself?  Why,  do  you  not  perceive 

the  jest  ? 

Val.  No,  believe  me. 

Speed.  No  believing  you  indeed,  sir :  But  did 
you  perceive  her  earnest  ? 

Val.  She  gave  me  none,  except  an  angry  word. 

Speed.  Why,  she  hath  given  you  a  letter. 

Val.  That's  the  letter  I  writ  to  her  friend. 

Speed.  And  that  letter  hath  she  deliver'd,  and 
there  an  end/' 

Val.  I  would,  it  were  no  worse. 

Speed.  I'll  warrant  you,  'tis  as  well : 
For  often  you  have  writ  to  her  ;  and  she,  in  modesty, 
Or  else  for  want  of  idle  time,  could  not  again  reply  ; 


So,  in  the  Merchant  of  Venice  : 

"  I  reasoned  with  a  Frenchman  yesterday."     Steevens. 

9  and  there  an  end.]  i.  e.  there's  the  conclusion  of  the 

matter.     So,  in  Macbeth  : 

" the  times  have  been 

"  That  when  the  brains  were  out,  the  man  would  die. 
"  And  there  an  end." Steevens. 

P  2 


212  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  n. 

Or  fearing  else  some  messenger,  that  might  her  mind l 

discover, 
Herself  hath  taught  her  love  himself  to  write  unto 

her  lover. — 
All  this  I  speak  in  print  ;T  for  in  print  I  found  it. — 
Why  muse  you,  sir  ?  'tis  dinner  time. 

Val.  I  have  dined. 

Speed.  Ay,  but  hearken,  sir :  though  the  came- 
leon  Love  can  feed  on  the  air,  I  am  one  that  am 
nourished  by  my  victuals,  and  would  fain  have 
meat :  O,  be  not  like  your  mistress  ;  be  moved,  be 
moved.  [Exeunt. 


SCENE  II. 

Verona.     A  Room  in  Julia's  House. 

Enter  Proteus  and  Julia. 

Pro.  Have  patience,  gentle  Julia. 

Jul.  I  must,  where  is  no  remedy. 

Pro.  When  possibly  I  can,  I  will  return. 

Jul.  If  you  turn  not,  you  will  return  the  sooner : 
Keep  this  remembrance  for  thy  Julia's  sake. 

[Giving  a  ring. 


'  All  this  I  speak  in  print ;]  In  print  means  ivith  exactness. 
So,  in  the  comedy  of  All  Fooles,  l605 : 

" not  a  hair 

"  About  his  bulk,  but  it  stands  in  print." 
Again,  in  The  Portraiture  of  Hypocrisie,  bl.  1.  1589:  " — others 
lash  out  to  maintaine  their  porte, which  must  needes  bee  in  print" 
Again,  in  Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  edit.  1632,  p.  539: 
"  —  he  must  speake  in  print,  walke  in  print,  eat  and  drinke  in 
print,  and  that  which  is  all  in  all,  he  must  be- mad  in  print.'" 

Steevens. 


sc.  in.  OF  VERONA.  213 

Pro.  Why  then  we'll  make  exchange ;  here,  take 
you  this. 

Jul.  And  seal  the  bargain  with  a  holy  kiss. 

Pro.  Here  is  my  hand  for  my  true  constancy ; 
And  when  that  hour  o'er-slips  me  in  the  day, 
Wherein  I  sigh  not,  Julia,  for  thy  sake, 
The  next  ensuing  hour  some  foul  mischance 
Torment  me  for  my  love's  forgetfulness  ! 
My  father  stays  my  coming ;  answer  not ; 
The  tide  is  now :  nay,  not  the  tide  of  tears  ; 
That  tide  will  stay  me  longer  than  I  should : 

[Exit  Julia. 
Julia,  farewell. — What !  gone  without  a  word  ? 
Ay,  so  true  love  should  do  :  it  cannot  speak ; 
For  truth  hath  better  deeds,  than  words,  to  grace  it. 

Enter  Panthino. 

Pan.  Sir  Proteus,  you  are  staid  for. 

Pro.  Go  ;  I  come,  I  come  : — 
Alas !  this  parting  strikes  poor  lovers  dumb. 

[ExeimL 

SCENE  III. 

The  same.     A  Street. 

Enter  Launce,  leading  a  dog. 

Laun.  Nay,  'twill  be  this  hour  ere  I  have  done 
weeping ;  all  the  kind  of  the  Launces  have  this 
very  fault :  I  have  received  my  proportion,  like  the 
prodigious  son,  and  am  going  with  sir  Proteus  to 
the  Imperial's  court.  I  think,  Crab  my  dog  be  the 
sourest-natured  dog  that  lives:  my  mother  weeping, 
my  father  wailing,  my  sister  crying,  our  maid  howl- 


214  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  it. 

ing,  our  cat  wringing  her  hands,  and  all  our  house 
in  a  great  perplexity,  yet  did  not  this  cruel-hearted 
cur  shed  one  tear :  he  is  a  stone,  a  very  pebhle-stone, 
and  has  no  more  pity  in  him  than  a  dog :  a  Jew 
would  have  wept  to  have  seen  our  parting ;  why, 
my  grandam  having  no  eyes,  look  you,  wept  herself 
blind  at  my  parting.  Nay,  I'll  show  you  the  man- 
ner of  it :  This  shoe  is  my  father  ; — no,  this  left 
shoe  is  my  father  ; — no,  no,  this  left  shoe  is  my 
mother; — nay,  that  cannot  be  so  neither; — yes, it 
is  so,  it  is  so ;  it  hath  the  worser  sole ;  This  shoe, 
with  the  hole  in  it,  is  my  mother,  and  this  my 
father ;  A  vengeance  on't !  there  'tis :  now,  sir, 
this  staff  is  my  sister ;  for,  look  you,  she  is  as  white 
as  a  liJv,  and  as  small  as  a  wand :  this  hat  is  Xan, 
our  maid  ;  I  am  the  dog:2 — no,  the  dog  is  himself, 
and  I  am  the  dog,3 — O,  the  dog  is  me,  and  I  am 
myself;  ay,  so,  so.  Now  come  I  to  my  father; 
Father^  your  blessing ;  now  should  not  the  shoe 
speak  a  word  for  weeping ;  now  should  I  kiss  my 
father ;  well,  he  weeps  on : — now  come  I  to  my 
mother,  (O,  that  she  could  speak  now!)  like  a 
wood  woman  ; 4 — well,  I  kiss  her  ; — why  there  'ti- ; 


4  I  am  the  dog:  &c]   A  similar  thought  occurs  in  a  play 

printed  earlier  than  the  present.  See  A  Christian  turnd  Turk, 
loll: 

" you  shall  stand  for  the  lady,  you  for  her  deer,  and  J  the 

page ;  you  and  the  dog  looking  one  upon  another  :  the  page  pre- 
sents himself."     Steevexs. 

I  am  the  dog,  &c]  This  passage  is  much  confused,  and 


of  confusion  the  present  reading  makes  no  end.  Sir  T.  Hanrner 
reads:  I  am  the  dog,  no,  the  dog  is  himself and  I  am  me,  the  dog 
is  the  dog,  and  I  am  myself.  This  certainly  is  more  reasonable, 
but  I  know  not  how  much  reason  the  author  intended  to  bestow 
on  Launce's  soliloquy.     Johnson*. 

like    a    wood  woman  ; — ]     The  first  folios  agree  in 


v:o"Id--xoman:  for  which,  because  it  was  a  mystery  to  Mr.  Pope, 


sc.  in,  OF  VERONA.  215 

here's  my  mother's  breath  up  and  down :  now  come 
I  to  my  sister ;  mark  the  moan  she  makes :  now  the 
dog  all  this  while  sheds  not  a  tear,  nor  speaks  a 
word ;  but  see  how  I  lay  the  dust  with  my  tears. 

Enter  Panthino. 

Pan.  Launce,  away,  away,  aboard  ;  thy  master 
is  shipped,  and  thou  art  to  post  after  with  oars. 
What's  the  matter?  why  weep'st  thou,  man?  Away, 
ass ;  you  will  lose  the  tide,  if  you  tarry  any  longer. 

LiAUN.  It  is  no  matter  if  the  ty'd  were  lost  ;5  for 
it  is  the  unkindest  ty'd  that  ever  any  man  ty'd. 


he  has  unmeaningly  substituted  ould  woman.  But  it  must  be 
writ,  or  at  least  understood,. waoiLwoman,  i.  e.crazy,  frantic  with 
grief;  or  distracted,  from  any  other  cause.  The  word  is  very 
frequently  used  in  Chaucer ;  and  sometimes  writ  wood,  some- 
times wode.     Theobald. 

Print  thus :  "  Now  come  I  to  my  mother,  (O,  that  she  could 
speak  now!)  like  a  wood  woman." 

Perhaps  the  humour  would  be  heightened  by  reading — (O, 
that  the  shoe  could  speak  now  !)     Blackstone. 

I  have  followed  the  punctuation  recommended  by  Sir  W. 
Blackstone.  The  emendation  proposed  by  him  was  made,  I 
find,  by  Sir  T.  Hanmer.     Ma  lone. 

O  that  she  coidd  speak  now  like  a  wood  woman !]  Launce  is 
describing  the  melancholy  parting  between  him  and  his  family. 
In  order  to  do  this  more  methodically,  he  makes  one  of  his  shoes 
stand  for  his  father,  and  the  other  for  his  mother.  And  when  he 
has  done  taking  leave  of  his  father,  he  says,  Now  come  I  to  my 
mother,  turning  to  the  shoe  that  is  supposed  to  personate  her.  And 
in  order  to  render  the  representation  more  perfect,  he  expresses 
his  wish  that  it  could  speak  like  a  woman  frantic  with  grief! 
There  could  be  no  doubt  about  the  sense  of  the  passage,  had  he 
said — "  O  that  it  could  speak  like  a  wood  woman  !''  But  he  uses 
the  feminine  pronoun  in  speaking  of  the  shoe,  because  it  is  sup- 
posed to  represent  a  woman.     M.  Mason. 

*  if  the  ty'd  were  lost  ;]  This  quibble,  wretched  as  it  is, 

might  have  been  borrowed  by  bhakspeare  from  Lily's  Endi/rnioriy 


2 1 6  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  ii. 

Pan.  What's  the  imkindest  tide  ? 

Laun.  Why,  he  that's  ty'd  here  ;  Crab,  my  dog. 

Pan.  Tut,  man,  I  mean  thou'lt  lose  the  flood ; 
and,  in  losing  the  flood,  lose  thy  voyage ;  and,  in 
losing  thy  voyage,  lose  thy  master ;  and,  in  losing 
thy  master,  lose  thy  service ;  and,  in  losing  thy 
service, — Why  dost  thou  stop  my  mouth  ? 

Laun.  For  fear  thou  should'st  lose  thy  tongue? 

Pan.  Where  should  I  lose  my  tongue  ? 

Laun.  In  thy  tale. 

Pan.  In  thy  tail  ? 

Laun.  Lose  the  tide,6  and  the  voyage,  and  the 
master,  and  the  service  ?  The  tide  !7 — Why,  man, 
if  the  river  were  dry,  I  am  able  to  fill  it  with  my 
tears ;  if  the  wind  were  down,  I  could  drive  the 
boat  with  my  sighs.    » 

Pan.  Come,  come  away,  man ;  I  was  sent  to 
call  thee. 

Laun.  Sir,  call  me  what  thou  darest. 

Pan.  WTilt  thou  go  ? 

Laun,  Well,  I  will  go.  {Exeunt. 


1591 :  "  Epi.  You  know  it  is  said,  the  tide  tarrieth  for  no  man. — 
Sam.  True. — Epi.  A  monstrous  lye :  for  I  was  tyd  two  hours, 
and  tarried  for  one  to  unloose  me."  The  same  play  on  words 
occurs  in  Chapman's  Andromeda  Liberata,  l6l4: 

"  And  now  came  roaring  to  the  tied  the  tide." 

Steevens. 

6  Lose  the  tide%\  Thus  the  old  copy.     Some  of  the  modern 
editors  read — the  flood.     Steevens. 

7  The  tide  f]    The  old  copy  reads — "  and  the  tide."     I 

once  supposed  these  three  words  to  have  been  repeated,  through 
some  error  of  the  transcriber  or  printer  ;  but,  pointed  as  the  pas- 
sage now  is,  (with  the  omission  of  and,)  it  seems  to  have  suffi- 
cient meaning.     Steevens. 


sc.  ir.  OF  VERONA.  217 

SCENE  IV. 
Milan.  An  Apartment  in  the  Duke's  Palace. 

Enter  Valentine,  Silvia,  Thurio,  and  Speed. 

Sil.  Servant — 

Val.  Mistress? 

Speed.  Master,  sir  Thurio  frowns  on  you. 

Val.  Ay,  boy,  it's  for  love. 

Speed.  Not  of  you. 

Val.  Of  my  mistress  then. 

Speed.  'Twere  good,  you  knocked  him. 

Sil.  Servant,  you  are  sad. 

Val.  Indeed,  madam,  I  seem  so. 

Thu.  Seem  you  that  you  are  not  ? 

Val.  Haply,  I  do. 

Thu.  So  do  counterfeits. 

Val.  So  do  you. 

Thu.  What  seem  I,  that  I  am  not  ? 

Val.  Wise. 

Thu.  What  instance  of  the  contrary  ? 

Val.  Your  folly. 

Thu.  And  how  quote  you  my  folly  ? 8 

•  hoiv  quote  you  my  folly  ?]  To  quote  is  to  observe.     So, 

in  Hamlet  : 

"  I  am  sorry  that  with  hetter  heed  and  judgement 
"  I  had  not  quoted  him."     Steevens. 

Valentine  in  his  answer  plays  upon  the  word,  which  was  pro- 
nounced as  if  written  coat.  So,  in  The  Rape  of  Lucrece, 
1594: 


218  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  n. 

Val.  I  quote  it  in  your  jerkin. 
Thu.  My  jerkin  is  a  doublet. 
Val.  Well,  then,  I'll  double  your  folly. 
Thu.  How? 

Sil.  What,  angry,  sir  Thurio  ?  do  you  change 
colour  ? 

Val.  Give  him  leave,  madam ;  he  is  a  kind  of 
cameleon. 

Thu.  That  hath  more  mind  to  feed  on  your 
blood,  than  live  in  your  air. 

Val.  You  have  said,  sir. 

Thu.  Ay,  sir,  and  done  too,  for  this  time. 

Val.  I  know  it  well,  sir ;  you  always  end  ere 
you  begin. 

Sil.  A  fine  volley  of  words,  gentlemen,  and 
quickly  shot  off. 

Val.  'Tis  indeed,  madam  ;  we  thank  the  giver. 

Sil.  Who  is  that,  servant  ? 

Val.  Yourself,  sweet  lady;  for  you  gave  the 
fire :  sir  Thurio  borrows  his  wit  from  your  lady- 
ship's looks,  and  spends  what  he  borrows,  kindly 
in  your  company. 

Thu.  Sir,  if  you  spend  word  for  word  with  me, 
I  shall  make  your  wit  bankrupt. 

Val.  I  know  it  well,  sir  :  you  have  an  exchequer 
of  words,  and,  I  think,  no  other  treasure  to  give 

" the  illiterate,  that  know  not  how 

"  To  cipher  what  is  writ  in  learned  books, 
"  Will  cote  my  loathsome  trespass  in  my  looks." 
In  our  poet's  time  words  were  thus  frequently  spelt  by  the  ear. 

Malone, 


sc.  if.  OF  VERONA.  219 

your  followers  ;  for  it  appears  by  their  bare  liveries, 
that  they  live  by  your  bare  words. 

Sil.  No  more,  gentlemen,  no  more ;  here  comes 
my  father. 

Enter  Duke. 

Duke.  Now,  daughter  Silvia,  you  are  hard  beset. 
Sir  Valentine,  your  father's  in  good  health  : 
What  say  you  to  a  letter  from  your  friends 
Of  much  good  news  ? 

Val.  My  lord,  I  will  be  thankful 

To  any  happy  messenger  from  thence. 

Duke.  Know  you  Don  Antonio,  your  country- 
man ? 9 

Val.  Ay,  my  good  lord,  I  know  the  gentleman 
To  be  of  worth,  and  worthy  estimation, 
And  not  without  desert l  so  well  reputed. 

Duke.  Hath  he  not  a  son  ? 

Val.  Ay,  my  good  lord;  a  son,  that  well  deserves 
The  honour  and  regard  of  such  a  father. 

Duke.  You  know  him  well  ? 

Val.  I  knew  him,  as  myself;  for  from  our  infancy 
We  have  convers'd,  and  spent  our  hours  together  : 
And  though  myself  have  been  an  idle  truant, 
Omitting  the  sweet  benefit  of  time, 
To  clothe  mine  age  with  angel-like  perfection ; 

9  Know  you  Don  Antonio,  your  countryman  ?~\  The  word 
Don  should  be  omitted;  as  besides  the  injury  it  does  to  the  metre, 
the  characters  are  Italians,  not  Spaniards.  Had  the  measure 
admitted  it,  Shakspeare  would  have  written  Sigtlot.  And  yet, 
after  making  this  remark,  I  noticed  Don  Alphonso  in  a  preceding 
.scene.     But  for  all  that,  the  remark  may  be  just.     Kitson. 

1  not  xvit/iout  desert  — ]   And  not  dignified  with  so  much 

reputation  without  proportionate  merit.     Johnson. 


220  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  it. 

Yet  hath  sir  Proteus,  for  that's  his  name, 
Made  use  and  fair  advantage  of  his  days : 
His  years  but  young,  but  his  experience  old ; 
His  head  unmellow'd,  but  his  judgement  ripe  ; 
And,  in  a  word,  (for  far  behind  his  worth 
Come  all  the  praises  that  I  now  bestow,) 
He  is  complete  in  feature,  and  in  mind, 
With  all  good  grace  to  grace  a  gentleman. 

Duke.  Beshrew  me,  sir,  but,  if  he  make  this  good, 
He  is  as  worthy  for  an  empress'  love, 
As  meet  to  be  an  emperor's  counsellor. 
Well,  sir ;  this  gentleman  is  come  to  me, 
With  commendation  from  great  potentates  ; 
And  here  he  means  to  spend  his  time  a-while : 
I  think,  'tis  no  unwelcome  news  to  you. 

Val.  Should  I  have  wish'd  a  thing,  it  hadbeen  he. 

Duke.  Welcome  him  then  according  to  his  worth; 
Silvia,  I  speak  to  you  ;  and  you,  sir  Thurio : — 
For  Valentine,  I  need  not  'cite  him  to  it : 2 
I'll  send  him  hither  to  you  presently.    \_~Exit  Duke. 

Val.  This  is  the  gentleman,  I  told  your  ladyship, 
Had  come  along  with  me,  but  that  his  mistress 
Did  hold  his  eyes  lock'd  in  her  crystal  looks. 

SlL.  Belike,  that  now  she  hath  enfranchis'd  them 
Upon  some  other  pawn  for  fealty. 

Val.  Nay,  sure,  I  think,  she  holds  them  pri- 
soners still. 

Sil.  Nay,  then  he  should  be  blind  ;  and,  being 
blind, 
How  could  he  see  his  way  to  seek  out  you  ? 

Val.  Why,  lady,  love  hath  twenty  pair  of  eyes. 

Thu.  They  say,  that  love  hath  not  an  eye  at  all. 

*  I  need  not  'cite  him  to  it ;]  i.  e.  incite  him  to  it.     Malone. 


sc.  iv.  OF  VERONA.  221 

Val.  To  see  such  lovers,  Thurio,  as  yourself ; 
Upon  a  homely  object  love  can  wink. 

Enter  Proteus. 

Sil.  Have  done,  have  done ;  here  comes  the 
gentleman. 

Val.  Welcome,  dear  Proteus ! — Mistress,  I  be- 
seech you, 
Confirm  his  welcome  with  some  special  favour. 

Sil.  His  worth  is  warrant  for  his  welcome  hither, 
If  this  be  he  you  oft  have  wish'd  to  hear  from. 

Val.  Mistress,  it  is  :  sweet  lady,  entertain  him 
To  be  my  fellow-servant  to  your  ladyship. 

Sil.  Too  low  a  mistress  for  so  high  a  servant 

Pro.  Not  so,  sweet  lady;  but  too  mean  a  servant 
To  have  a  look  of  such  a  worthy  mistress. 

Val.  Leave  off  discourse  of  disability : — 
Sweet  lady,  entertain  him  for  your  servant. 

Pro.  My  duty  will  I  boast  of,  nothing  else. 

Sil.  And  duty  never  yet  did  want  his  meed ; 
Servant,  you  are  welcome  to  a  worthless  mistress. 

Pro.  I'll  die  on  him  that  says  so,  but  yourself. 

Sil.  That  you  are  welcome  ? 

Pro.  No  ;  that  you  are  worthless.3 

1  No  ;  that  you  are  worthless.]  I  have  inserted  the  particle  no, 
to  fill  up  the  measure.     Johnson. 

Perhaps  the  particle  supplied  is  unnecessary.  Worthless  was, 
I  believe,  used  as  a  trisyllable.  See  Mr.  Tynvhitt's  note,  p.  203. 

Malone. 

Is  worthless  a  trisyllable  in  the  preceding  speech  of  Silvia  ?  Is 
there  any  instance  of  the  licence  recommended,  respecting  the 
adjective  worthless,  to  be  found  in  Shakspeare,  or  any  other 
writer?     St  e  evens. 


222  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  n. 


Enter  Servant. 

Ser.  Madam,  my  lord  your  father 4  would  speak 
with  you. 

SlL.  I'll  wait  upon  his  pleasure.  [Edit  Servant. 
Come,  Sir  Thurio, 
Go  with  me  : — Once  more,  new  servant,  welcome : 
I'll  leave  you  to  confer  of  home-affairs  ; 
When  you  have  done,  we  look  to  hear  from  you. 

Pro.  We'll  both  attend  upon  your  ladyship. 

[Exeunt  Silvia,  Thurio,  and  Speed. 

Val.  Now,  tell  me,  how  do  all  from  whence 
you  came  ? 

Pro.  Your  friends  are  well,  and  have  them  much 
commended. 

Val.  And  how  do  yours  ? 

Pro.  I  left  them  all  in  health. 

Val.  How  does  your  lady  ?  and  how  thrives  your 
love? 

Pro.  My  tales  of  love  were  wont  to  weary  you ; 
I  know,  you  joy  not  in  a  love-discourse. 

Val.  Ay,  Proteus,  but  that  life  is  alter'd  now : 
I  have  done  penance  for  contemning  love ; 
Whose  high  imperious5  thoughts  have  punish'd  me 


4  Ser.  Madam,  my  lord  your  father — ]  This  speech  in  all 
the  editions  is  assigned  improperly  to  Thurio ;  but  he  has  been 
all  along  upon  the  stage,  and  could  not  know  that  the  duke 
wanted  his  daughter.  Besides,  the  first  line  and  half  of  Silvia's 
answer  is  evidently  addressed  to  two  persons.  A  servant,  there- 
fore, must  come  in  and  deliver  the  message ;  and  then  Silvia 
goes  out  with  Thurio.     Theobald. 

3  Whose  high  imperious  — ]  For  whose  I  read  those.  I  have 
contemned  love  and  am  punished.  Those  high  thoughts,  by  which 


sc.  iv.  OF  VERONA.  223 

With  bitter  fasts,  with  penitential  groans, 
With  nightly  tears,  and  daily  heart-sore  sighs  ; 
For,  in  revenge  of  my  contempt  of  love, 
Love  hath  chac'd  sleep  from  my  enthralled  eyes, 
And  made  them  watchers  of  mine  own  heart's 

sorrow. 
O,  gentle  Proteus,  love's  a  mighty  lord ; 
And  hath  so  humbled  me,  as,  I  confess, 
There  is  no  woe  to  his  correction,6 
Nor,  to  his  service,  no  such  joy  on  earth ! 
Now,  no  discourse,  except  it  be  of  love ; 
Now  can  I  break  my  fast,  dine,  sup,  and  sleep, 
Upon  the  very  naked  name  of  love. 

Pro.  Enough  ;  I  read  your  fortune  in  your  eye : 
Was  this  the  idol  that  you  worship  so  ? 

Val.  Even  she  ;  and  is  she  not  a  heavenly  saint  ? 

Pro.  No  ;  but  she  is  an  earthly  paragon. 

Val.  Call  her  divine. 

Pro.  I  will  not  flatter  her. 

Val.  O,  flatter  me ;  for  love  delights  in  praises. 

* 

I  exalted  myself  above  the  human  passions  or  frailties,  have 
brought  upon  me  fasts  and  groans.     Johnson. 

I  believe  the  old  copy  is  right.  Imperious  is  an  epithet  very 
frequently  applied  to  love  by  Shakspeare  and  his  contemporaries. 
So,  in  The  Famous  Historie  of  George  Lord  Faukonbridge,  4to. 
I6l6,  p.  15:  "Such  an  imperious  God  is  love,  and  so  com- 
manding." A  few  lines  lower  Valentine  observes,  that — "  love's 
a  mighty  lord.1'     jMalone. 

6  no  woe  to  his  correction,']  No  misery  that  can  be  com- 
pared to  the  punishment  inflicted  by  love.  Herbert  called  for 
the  prayers  of  the  liturgy  a  little  before  his  death,  saying,  None 
to  them,  none  to  them.     Johnson. 

The  same  idiom  occurs  in  an  old  ballad  quoted  in  Cupid's 
Whirligig,  l6l6: 

"  There  is  no  comfort  in  the  world 

"  To  women  that  are  kind."     M alone. 


224  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  n. 

Pro.  When  I  was  sick,  you  gave  me  bitter  pills  j 
And  I  must  minister  the  like  to  you. 

Val.  Then  speak  the  truth  by  her ;  if  not  divine, 
Yet  let  her  be  a  principality,7 
Sovereign  to  all  the  creatures  on  the  earth. 

Pro.  Except  my  mistress. 

Val.  Sweet,  except  not  any ; 

Except  thou  wilt  except  against  my  love. 

Pro.  Have  I  not  reason  to  prefer  mine  own  ? 

Val.  And  I  will  help  thee  to  prefer  her  too  : 
She  shall  be  dignified  with  this  high  honour, — 
To  bear  my  lady's  train  ;  lest  the  base  earth 
Should  from  her  vesture  chance  to  steal  a  kiss, 
And,  of  so  great  a  favour  growing  proud, 
Disdain  to  root  the  summer-swelling  flower,8 
And  make  rough  winter  everlastingly. 


7  a  principality,]  The  first  or  principal  of  women.     So 

the  old  writers  use  date.  "  She  is  a  lady,  a  great  state."  Laty- 
mer.  "  This  look  is  called  in  states  warlie,  in  others  otherwise." 
Sir  T.  More.     Johnson. 

There  is  a  similar  sense  of  this  word  in  St.  Paul's  Epistle  to  the 
Romans,  viii.  38  : — "  nor  angels  nor  principalities." 

Mr.  M.  Mason  thus  judiciously  paraphrases  the  sentiment  of 
Valentine.  "  If  you  will  not  acknowledge  her  as  divine,  let  her 
at  least  be  considered  as  an  angel  of  the  first  order,  superior  to 
every  thing  on  earth."     Steevens. 

8  summer-swelling^otuer,]   I  once  thought  that  our  poet 

had  written  summer-smelling ;  but  the  epithet  which  stands  in 
the  text  I  have  since  met  with  in  the  translation  of  Lucan,  by 
Sir  Arthur  Gorges,  l6l4,  B.  VIII.  p.  354: 

" no  Roman  chieftaine  should 

"  Come  near  to  Nyle's  Pelusian  mould, 

"  But  shun  that  summer-swelling  shore." 
The  original  is,  "  —  ripasque  cestate  tumentes,"  1.  829«     May 
likewise  renders  it  summer-swelled  banks.     The  summer-swelling 
flower  is  the  flower  which  swells  in  summer,  till  it  expands  it- 
self into  bloom.     Steevens. 


sc.  if.  OF  VERONA.  225 

Pro.  Why,  Valentine,  what  braggardism  is  this  ? 

Val.  Pardon  me,  Proteus  :  all  I  can,  is  nothing 
To  her, whose. worth  makes  other  worthies  nothing; 
She  is  alone.9 

Pro.  Then  let  her  alone. 

Val.  Not  for  the  world:  why,  man,  she  is  mine 
own ; 
And  I  as  rich  in  having  such  a  jewel, 
As  twenty  seas,  if  all  their  sand  were  pearl, 
The  water  nectar,  and  the  rocks  pure  gold. 
Forgive  me,  that  I  do  not  dream  on  thee, 
Because  thou  seest  me  dote  upon  my  love. 
My  foolish  rival,  that  her  father  likes, 
Only  for  his  possessions  are  so  huge, 
Is  gone  with  her  along  ;  and  I  must  after, 
For  love,  thou  know'st,  is  full  of  jealousy. 

Pro.  But  she  loves  you  ? 

Val.  Ay,  and  we  are  betroth'd ; 

Nay,  more,  our  marriage  hour, 
With  all  the  cunning  manner  of  our  flight, 
Determin'd  of:  how  I  must  climb  her  window  ; 
The  ladder  made  of  cords ;  and  all  the  means 
Plotted;  and  'greed  on,  for  my  happiness. 
Good  Proteus,  go  with  me  to  my  chamber, 
In  these  affairs  to  aid  me  with  thy  counsel. 

Pro.  Go  on  before  ;  I  shall  enquire  you  forth  : 
I  must  unto  the  road,1  to  disembark 
Some  necessaries  that  I  needs  must  use ; 
And  then  I'll  presently  attend  you. 

Val.  WTill  you  make  haste  ? 

9  She  is  alone.']  She  stands  by  herself.     There  is  none  to  be 
compared  to  her.     Johnson. 

1  the  road,]  The  haven,  where  ships  ride  at  anchor. 

Malonf. 
VOL.  IV.  Q 


226  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  11. 

Pro.  I  will. —  [Exit  Val. 

Even  as  one  heat  another  heat  expels, 
Or  as  one  nail  by  strength  drives  out  another, 
So  the  remembrance  of  my  former  love 
Is  by  a  newer  object  quite  forgotten.2 
Is  it  mine  eye,  or  Valentinus'  praise,3 
Her  true  perfection,  or  my  false  transgression, 
That  makes  me,  reasonless,  to  reason  thus  ? 


s  Even  as  one  heat  another  heat  expels. 

Or  as  one  nail  by  strength  drives  out  another, 
So  the  remembrance  of  my  former  love 
Is  by  a  newer  object  quite  forgotten.]  Our  author  seems  here 
to  have  remembered  The   Tragicall  Hystory  of  Romeus  and 
Juliet ,  1562: 

"  And  as  out  of  a  planke  a  nayle  a  nayle  doth  drive, 
"  So  novel  love  out  of  the  minde  the  auncient  love  doth  rive" 
So  also,  in  Coriolanus: 

"  One  fire  drives  out  one  fire ;  one  nail  one  nail." 

Malone. 

3  Is  it  mine  eye,  or  Valentinus'  praise,"]  The  old  copy  reads — 
"  Is  it  mine  or  Valentine's  praise  ?"     Steevens. 

Here  Proteus  questions  with  himself,  whether  it  is  his  own 
praise,  or  Valentine's,  that  makes  him  fall  in  love  with  Valentine's 
mistress.  But  not  to  insist  on  the  absurdity  of  falling  in  love 
through  his  own  praises,  he  had  not  indeed  praised  her  any  far- 
ther than  giving  his  opinion  of  her  in  three  words,  when  his 
friend  asked  it  of  him. 

A  word  is  wanting  in  the  first  folio.  The  line  was  originally 
thus: 

It  is  mine  eye,  or  Valentino1  s  praise  ? 
Proteus  had  just  seen  Valentine's  mistress,  whom  her  lover  had 
been  lavishly  praising.  His  encomiums,  therefore,  heightening 
Proteus's  ideas  of  her  at  the  interview,  it  was  the  less  wonder  he 
should  be  uncertain  which  had  made  the  strongest  impression, 
Valentine's  praises,  or  his  own  view  of  her.     Warburton. 

The  first  folio  reads: 

"  It  is  mine  or  Valentine's  praise." 
The  second : 

"  Is  it  mine  then  or  Valentinean's  praise  ?"     Ritson. 

I  read,  as  authorized,  in  a  former  instance,  by  the  old  copy,— 
Valentinus.     See  Act  I.  sc.  iii.  p.  200.     Steevens. 


sc.  iv.  OF  VERONA.  227 

She's  fair ;  and  so  is  Julia,  that  I  love  ; — 
That  I  did  love,  for  now  my  love  is  thaw'd ; 
Which,  like  a  waxen  image  'gainst  a  fire,* 
Bears  no  impression  of  the  thing  it  was. 
Methinks,  my  zeal  to  Valentine  is  cold ; 
And  that  I  love  him  not,  as  I  was  wont : 
O !  but  I  love  his  lady  too,  too  much  ; 
And  that's  the  reason  I  love  him  so  little. 
How  shall  I  dote  on  her  with  more  advice,6 
That  thus  without  advice  begin  to  love  her  ? 
'Tis  but  her  picture6  I  have  yet  beheld, 


*  a  waxen  image  ''gainst  a  fre,']  Alluding  to  the  figures 

made  by  witches,  as  representatives  of  those  whom  they  designed 
to  torment  or  destroy.     See  my  note  on  Macbeth,  Act  I.  sc.  iii. 

Steevens. 

King  James  ascribes  these  images  to  the  devil,  in  his  treatise  of 
Daemonologie:  "  to  some  others  at  these  times  he  teacheth  how 
to  make  pictures  of  waxe  or  claye,  that  by  the  roasting  thereof 
the  persons  that  they  bear  the  name  of  may  be  continually  melted, 
and  dried  away  by  continual  sicknesse."  See  Servius  on  the  8th 
Eclogue  of  Virgil,  Theocritus  Idyl.  2.  22.  Hudibras,  p.  2.  c.  2. 
v.  331.     S.W.  " 

4  tvith  more  advice,]   With  more  advice,  is  on  further 

hiovdedge,  on  better  consideration.     So,  in    Titus  Andronicus; 

"  The  Greeks,  upon  advice,  did  bury  Ajax." 
The  word,  as  Mr.  Malone  observes,  is  still  current  among 
mercantile  people,  whose  constant  language  is,  "  we  are  advised 
by  letters  from  abroad,"  meaning  informed.  So,  in  bills  of  ex- 
change the  conclusion  always  is — "  Without  further  advice." 
So,  in  this  very  phi)  : 

"  Thi^  pride  of  hers,  upon  advice."  &C. 
Again,  in  Measurefbr  Measure: 

"  Yet  did  repent  me,  after  more  advice."     Steevens. 

0  '7/s  bul  hey  picture  — ]  This  is  evidently  a  slip  of  attention, 
for  he  had  seen  her  in  the  last  scene,  and  in  high  terms  offered 
her  his  service.     Johnson. 

1  believe  Proteus  means,  that,  as  yet,  he  had  seen  only  her 
outnard  form,  without  having  known  her  long  enough  to  have 
any  acquaintance  with  her  mind. 

Q2 


228  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  n. 

And  that  hath  dazzled  my  reason's  light ; 

But  when  I  look  on  her  perfections,7 

There  is  no  reason  but  I  shall  be  blind. 

If  I  can  check  my  erring  love,  I  will ; 

If  not,  to  compass  her  I'll  use  my  skill.        \_ExiL 

SCENE  V. 
The  same.    A  Street. 

Enter  Speed  and  Launce. 

Speed.  Launce !  by  mine  honesty,  welcome  to 
Milan.8 

Laun.  Forswear  not  thyself,  sweet  youth;  for  I 
am  not  welcome.  I  reckon  this  always — that  a  man 
is  never  undone,  till  he  be  hanged;  nor  never  wel- 
come to  a  place,  till  some  certain  shot  be  paid,  and 
the  hostess  say,  welcome. 

So,  in  Cymbeline: 

"  All  of  her,  that  is  out  of  door,  most  rich  ! 
"  If  she  be  furnish'd  with  a  mind  so  rare,"  &c. 
Again,  in  The  Winter* s  Tale,  Act  II.  sc.  i : 

"  Praise  her  but  for  this  her  without-door  form." 
Perhaps  Proteus  is  mentally  comparing  his  fate  with  that  of 
Pyrocles,  the  hero  of  Sidney's  Arcadia,  who  fell  in  love  with 
Philoclea  immediately  on  seeing  her  portrait  in  the  house  of  Ka- 
Iander.     Steevens. 

7  And  that  hath  dazzled  my  reason's  light; 
Bid  when  I  look  &c]  Our  author  uses  dazzled  as  a  tri- 
syllable. The  editor  of  the  second  folio  not  perceiving  this,  in- 
troduced so,  ("  And  that  hath  dazzled  so,"  &c.)  a  word  as  hurt- 
ful to  the  sense  as  unnecessary  to  the  metre.  The  plain  meaning 
is,  Her  mere  outside  has  dazzled  me  ; — xvhen  I  am  acquainted 
tvith  the  perfections  of  her  mind,  I  shall  be  struck  blind. 

Ma  LONE. 

■  to  Milan.]  It  is  Padua  in  the  former  editions.  See  the 


note  on  Act  III.    Pope. 


sc.  r.  OF  VERONA.  229 

Speed.  Come  on,  you  mad-cap,  I'll  to  the  ale- 
house with  you  presently;  where,  for  one  shot  of 
five  pence,  thou  shaft  have  five  thousand  welcomes. 
But,  sirrah,  how  did  thy  master  part  with  madam 
Julia  ? 

Laun.  Marry,  after  they  closed  in  earnest,  they 
parted  very  fairly  in  jest. 

Speed.  But  shall  she  marry  him  ? 

La  un.  No. 

Speed.  How  then  ?  Shall  he  marry  her  ? 

Laun.  No,  neither. 

Speed.  What,  are  they  broken  ? 

Laun.  No,  they  are  both  as  whole  as  a  fish. 

Speed.  Why  then,  how  stands  the  matter  with- 
them  ? 

Laun.  Marry,  thus;  when  it  stands  well  with 
him,  it  stands  well  with  her. 

Speed.  What  an  ass  art  thou  ?  I  understand 
thee  not. 

Laun.  What  a  block  art  thou, that  thou  canst  not  ? 
My  staff  understands  me.0 

Speed.  What  thou  say'st  ? 

9  Mij  staff  understands  me.]    This  equivocation,  miserable  as 
it  is,  has  been  admitted  by  Milton  in  his  great  poem,  B.  VI : 

" The  terms  we  sent  were  terms  of  weight, 

"  Such  as,  we  may  perceive,  amaz'd  them  all, 
"  And  stagger'd  many;  who  receives  them  right, 
"  Had  need  from  head  to  foot  well  understand; 
"  Not  understood,  this  gift  they  have  besides, 
"  To  shew  us  when  our  foes  stand  not  upright." 

Johnson. 

The  same  quibble  occurs  likewise  in  the  second  part  of  The 
Three  Merry  Coblers,  an  ancient  ballad: 

"  Our  work  doth  th'  owners  understand, 

"  Thus  still  we  arc  on  the  mending  hand."     Steevens. 


230  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  n. 

LAuy.  Ay,  and  what  I  do  too :  look  thee,  I'll 
but  lean,  and  my  staff  understands  me. 

Speed.  It  stands  under  thee,  indeed. 

Laun.  Why,standunderandunderstandisallone. 

Speed.  But  tell  me  true,  will't  be  a  match  ? 

Laun.  Ask  my  dog :  if  he  say,  ay,  it  will ;  if  he 
say,  no,  it  will;  if  he  shake  his  tail,  and  say  nothing, 
it  will. 

Speed.  The  conclusion  is  then,  that  it  will. 

Laun.  Thou  shalt  never  get  such  a  secret  from 
me,  but  by  a  parable. 

Speed.  'Tis  well  that  I  get  it  so.  But,  Launce, 
how  say'st  thou,  that  my  master  is  become  a  notable 
lover  ?* 

Laun.  I  never  knew  him  otherwise. 

Speed.  Than  how  ? 

Laun.  A  notable  lubber,  as  thou  reportest  him 
to  be. 

Speed.  Why,thou  whorsonass,thou  mistakestme. 

Laun.  Why,  fool,  I  meant  not  thee ;  I  meant 
thy  master. 

Speed.  I  tell  thee,  my  master  is  become  a  hot 
lover. 

Laun.  Why,  I  tell  thee,  I  care  not  though  he 
burn  himself  in  love.  If  thou  wilt  go  with  me  to 
the  ale-house,  so  ;2  if  not,  thou  art  an  Hebrew,  a 
Jew,  and  not  worth  the  name  of  a  Christian. 


'  7ioto  say'st  thou,  that  my  master  is  become  a  notable 

hverf]  i.e.  (as  Mr.  M.  Mason  has  elsewhere  observed,)  What 
say'st  thou  to  this  circumstance, — namely,  that  my  master  is  be- 
come a  notable  lover  ?     Malone. 

8  so ;]  So,  which  is  wanting  in  the  first  folio,  was  sup- 
plied by  the  editor  of  the  second.     Malone. 


sc.  vi.  OF  VERONA.  231 

Speed.  Why? 

Laun.  Because  thou  hast  not  so  much  charity 
in  thee,  as  to  go  to  the  ale3  with  a  Christian:  Wilt 
thou  go  ? 

Speed.  At  thy  service.  [Exeunt, 

SCENE  VI.4 

The  same.     An  Apartment  in  the  Palace. 

Enter  Proteus. 

Pro.  To  leave  my  Julia,  shall  I  be  forsworn ; 
To  love  fair  Silvia,  shall  I  be  forsworn ; 
To  wrong  my  friend,  I  shall  be  much  forsworn ; 
And  even  that  power,  which  gave  me  first  my  oath, 

3 the  ale ]  Ales  were  merry  meetings  instituted  in 

country  places.     Thus,  Ben  Jonson : 

"  And  all  the  neighbourhood,  from  old  records 
"  Of  antique  proverbs  drawn  from  Whitson  lords, 
"  And  their  authorities  at  wakes  and  ales, 
"  With  country  precedents,  and  old  wives'  tales, 
"  We  bring  you  now.'' 
Again,  in  Ascham's  Toxopkilus,  edit.  1589,  p.  2:  "—or  else 
make  merry  with  their  neighbours  at  the  ale." 

Again,  as  Mr.  M.Mason  observes,  in  the  play  of  L  ord  Crom  well: 
"  O  Tom,  that  we  were  now  at  Putney,  at  the   ale 
there !" 
See  also  Mr.  T.  Warton's  History  of  English  Poetry,  Vol.  III. 
p.  128.     Steevens. 

4  It  is  to  be  observed,  that  in  the  folio  edition  there  are  no 
directions  concerning  the  scenes ;  they  have  been  added  by  the 
later  editors,  and  may  therefore  be  changed  by  any  reader  that 
can  give  more  consistency  or  regularity  to  the  drama  by  such 
alterations.  I  make  this  remark  in  this  place,  because  I  know 
not  whether  the  following  soliloquy  of  Proteus  is  so  proper  in  the 
street.     Johnson. 

The  reader  will  perceive  that  the  scenery  has  been  changed, 
though  Dr.  Johnson's  observation  is  continued.     Steevens. 


232  TWO  GENTLEMEN  actii. 

Provokes  me  to  this  threefold  perjury. 

Love  bade  me  swear,  and  love  bids  me  forswear : 

0  sweet-suggesting  love/'  if  thou  hast  sinn'd, 
Teach  me,  thy  tempted  subject,  to  excuse  it. 
At  first  I  did  adore  a  twinkling  star, 

But  now  I  worship  a  celestial  sun. 
Unheedful  vows  may  needfully  be  broken  ; 
And  he  wants  wit,  that  wants  resolved  will 
To  learn  his  wit  to  exchange  the  bad  for  better. — 
Fye,  fye,  unreverend  tongue !  to  call  her  bad, 
Whose  sovereignty  so  oft  thou  hast  preferr'd 
With  twenty  thousand  soul-confirming  oaths. 

1  cannot  leave  to  love,  and  yet  I  do ; 

But  there  I  leave  to  love,  where  I  should  love. 

Julia  I  lose,  and  Valentine  I  lose : 

If  I  keep  them,  I  needs  must  lose  myself; 

If  I  lose  them,  thus  find  I  by  their  loss, 

For  Valentine,  myself;  for  Julia,  Silvia. 

I  to  myself  am  dearer  than  a  friend ; 

For  love  is  still  more  precious  in  itself: 

And  Silvia,  witness  heaven,  that  made  her  fair! 

Shews  Julia  but  a  swarthy  Ethiope. 

I  will  forget  that  Julia  is  alive, 

Rememb'ring  that  my  love  to  her  is  dead ; 

And  Valentine  I'll  hold  an  enemy, 

Aiming  at  Silvia  as  a  sweeter  friend. 

I  cannot  now  prove  constant  to  myself, 

Without  some  treachery  used  to  Valentine  : — 

This  night,  he  meaneth  with  a  corded  ladder 

To  climb  celestial  Silvia's  chamber-window ; 


5  O  sxveet-suggesting  love,']    To  suggest  is  to  tempt,  in  our  au- 
thor's language.     So  again : 

"  Knowing  that  tender  youth  is  soon  suggested." 

The  sense  is,  0  tempting  love,  if  thou  hast  influenced  me  to 
sin,  teach  me  to  excuse  it.    Johnson. 


sc.  vi.  OF  VERONA.  233 

Myself  in  counsel,  his  competitor:6 
Now  presently  I'll  give  her  father  notice 
Of  their  disguising,  and  pretended  flight;7 
Who,  all  enrag'd,  will  banish  Valentine ; 
For  Thurio,  he  intends,  shall  wed  his  daughter : 
But,  Valentine  being  gone,  I'll  quickly  cross, 
By  some  sly  trick,  blunt  Thurio's  dull  proceeding. 
Love,  lend  me  wings  to  make  my  purpose  swift, 
As  thou  hast  lent  me  wit  to  plot  this  drift  !8  [Exit* 


c in  counsel,  his  competitor  :]  Myself,  who  am  his  com- 
petitor or  rival,  being  admitted  to  his  counsel.     Johnson. 

Competitor  is  confederate,  assistant,  partner. 
So,  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra: 

"  Is  it  not  Caesar's  natural  vice,  to  hate 
"  One  great  competitor  ?" 
and  he  is  speaking  of  Lepidus,  one  of  the  triumvirate.  Steevens. 

Steevens  is  right  in  asserting,  that  competitor,  in  this  place, 
means  confederate,  or  partner. — The  word  is  used  in  the  same 
sense  in  Twelfth  Night,  where  the  Clown  seeing  Mark  and  Sir 
Toby  approach,  who  were  joined  in  the  plot  against  Malvolio, 
says,  "  The  competitors  enter."  And  again,  in  K.  Richard  III. 
the  messenger  says : 

" The  Guildfords  are  in  arms, 

"  And  every  hour  more  competitors 

"  Flock  to  the  rebels." 
So  also,  in  Love's  Labour's  Lost: 

"  The  king,  and  his  competitors  in  oath."     M.  Mason. 

7 pretended^?/"-/^;]   Pretended  flight  is  proposed  or  in~ 

tended  flight.     So,  in  Macbeth  : 

" What  good  could  the}'  pretend" 

Mr.  M.  Mason  justly  observes,  that  the  verb  pretendre  in 
French,  has  the  same  signification.     Steevens. 

Again,  in  Dr.  A.  Borde's  Introduction  of  Knoivledge,  1.542, 
sig.  H  3  :  "  /  pretend  to  return  and  come  round  about  thorow 
(.tliL-r  regyons  in  Europ."     Reed. 

8 this  drift  /]  I  suspect  that  the  author  concluded  the 

act  with  this  couplet,  and  that  the  next  scene  should  begin  the 
third  act ;  but  the  change,  as  it  will  add  nothing  to  the  probabi- 
lity of  the  action,  is  of  no  great  importance.     Johnson. 


234  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  n. 

SCENE  VII. 

Verona.     A  Room  in  Julia's  House, 

Enter  Julia  and  Lucetta. 

Jul.  Counsel,  Lucetta ;  gentle  girl,  assist  me  ! 
And,  even  in  kind  love,  I  do  conjure  thee, — 
Who  art  the  table  wherein  all  my  thoughts 
Are  visibly  character'd  and  engrav'd, — 
To  lesson  me ;  and  tell  me  some  good  mean, 
How,  with  my  honour,  I  may  undertake 
A  journey  to  my  loving  Proteus. 

Luc.  Alas!  the  way  is  wearisome  and  long. 

Jul.  A  true-devoted  pilgrim  is  not  weary 
To  measure  kingdoms  with  his  feeble  steps ; 
Much  less  shall  she,  that  hath  love's  wings  to  fly ; 
And  when  the  flight  is  made  to  one  so  dear, 
Of  such  divine  perfection,  as  sir  Proteus. 

Luc.  Better  forbear,  till  Proteus  make  return. 

Jul.  O,  know'st  thou  not,  his  looks  are  my  soul's 
food  ? 
Pity  the  dearth  that  I  have  pined  in, 
By  longing  for  that  food  so  long  a  time. 
Didst  thou  but  know  the  inly  touch  of  love, 
Thou  would'st  as  soon  go  kindle  fire  with  snow, 
As  seek  to  quench  the  fire  of  love  with  words. 

Luc.  I  do  not  seek  to  quench  your  love's  hot  fire; 
But  qualify  the  fire's  extreme  rage, 
Lest  it  should  burn  above  the  bounds  of  reason. 

Jul.  The  more  thou  dam'st  it  up,  the  more  it 
burns ; 
The  current,  that  with  gentle  murmur  glides, 
Thou  know'st,being  stopp'd,impatiently  doth  rage ; 


6c.  vn.  OF  VERONA.  235 

But,  when  his  fair  course  is  not  hindered, 

He  makes  sweet  musick  with  the  enamel'd  stones, 

Giving  a  gentle  kiss  to  every  sedge 

He  overtaketh  in  his  pilgrimage ; 

And  so  by  many  winding  nooks  he  strays, 

With  willing  sport,  to  the  wild  ocean. 

Then  let  me  go,  and  hinder  not  my  course : 

I'll  be  as  patient  as  a  gentle  stream, 

And  make  a  pastime  of  each  weary  step, 

Till  the  last  step  have  brought  me  to  my  love ; 

And  there  I'll  rest,  as,  after  much  turmoil, 

A  blessed  soul  doth  in  Elysium. 

Luc.  But  in  what  habit  will  you  go  along  ? 

Jul.  Not  like  a  woman  ;  for  I  would  prevent 
The  loose  encounters  of  lascivious  men : 
Gentle  Lucetta,  fit  me  with  such  weeds 
As  may  beseem  some  well-reputed  page. 

Luc.  Why  then  your  ladyship  must  cut  your  hair. 

Jul.  No,  girl ;  I'll  knit  it  up  in  silken  strings, 
With  twenty  odd-conceited  true-love  knots : 
To  be  fantastic  may  become  a  youth 
Of  greater  time  than  I  shall  show  to  be. 

Luc.  What  fashion,  madam,  shall  I  make  your 
breeches  ? 

Jul.  That  fits  as  well,  as — "  \e\\  me,  good  my 
lord, 
"  What  compass  will  you  wear  your  farthingale  ?" 
Why,  even  that  fashion  thou  best  lik'st,  Lucetta. 

Luc.  You  must  needs  have  them  with  a  cod- 
piece, madam.9 


* toith  <?  cod-piece,  <$-c]  Whoever  wishes  to  be  ac- 
quainted with  this  particular,  relative  to  dress,  may  consult 
Bulvver's  Artificial  Changeling,  in  which  such  matters  are  very 


236  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  jr. 

Jul.  Out,  out,  Lucetta!1  that  will  be  ill-favour' d. 

Luc.  A  round  hose,  madam,  now's  not  worth  a 
pin, 
Unless  you  have  a  cod-piece  to  stick  pins  on. 

Jul.  Lucetta,  as  thou  lov'st  me,  let  me  have 
What  thou  think' st  meet,  and  is  most  mannerly : 
But  tell  me,  wench,  how  will  the  world  repute  me, 
For  undertaking  so  unstaid  a  journey  ? 
I  fear  me,  it  will  make  me  scandaliz'd. 

Luc.  If  you  think  so,  then  stay  at  home,  and  go 
not. 

Jul.  Nay,  that  I  will  not. 

Luc.  Then  never  dream  on  infamy,  but  go. 
If  Proteus  like  your  journey,  when  you  come, 
No  matter  who's  displeas'd,  when  you  are  gone : 
I  fear  me,  he  will  scarce  be  pleas'd  withal. 


amply  discussed.     It  is  mentioned,  however,  in  Tyro's  Roaring 
Megge,  1598 : 

"  Tyro's  round  breeches  have  a  cliffe  behind  ; 
"  And  that  same  perking  longitude  before, 
"  Which  for  a,  pin-case  antique  plowmen  wore." 
Ocular  instruction  mav  be  had  from  the  armour  shown  as 
John  of  Gaunt's  in  the  lower  of  London.     The  same  fashion 
appears  to  have  been  no  less  offensive  in  France.  See  Montaigne, 
Chap.  XXII.     The  custom  of  sticking  pins  in  this  ostentatious 
piece  of  indecency  was  continued  by  the  illiberal  warders  of  the 
Tower,  till  forbidden  by  authority.     Steevens. 

1  Out,  out,  Lucetta'  &c]  Dr.  Percy  observes,  that  this  in- 
terjection is  still  used  in  the  North.  It  seems  to  have  the  same 
meaning  as  apage,  Lat. 

So,  in  Chapman's  version  of  the  thirteenth  Iliad: 

"  Out,  out,  I  hate  ye  from  my  heart,  ye  retten-minded 
men !"     Steevens. 

So,  in  Every  Man  out  of  his  Humour,  Act  II.  sc.  vi : 

"  Out,  out !  unworthy  to  speak  where  he  breatheth." 

Reed, 


sc.  vii.  OF  VERONA.  237 

Jul.  That  is  the  least,  Lucetta,  of  my  fear : 
A  thousand  oaths,  an  ocean  of  his  tears, 
And  instances  as  infinite 2  of  love, 
Warrant  me  welcome  to  my  Proteus. 

Luc.  All  these  are  servants  to  deceitful  men. 

Jul.  Base  men,  that  use  them  to  so  base  effect ! 
But  truer  stars  did  govern  Proteus*  birth : 
His  words  are  bonds,  his  oaths  are  oracles ; 
His  love  sincere,  his  thoughts  immaculate ; 
His  tears,  pure  messengers  sent  from  his  heart ; 
His  heart  as  far  from  fraud,  as  heaven  from  earth. 

Luc.  Pray  heaven,  he  prove  so,  when  you  come 
to  him ! 

Jul.  Now,  as  thou  lov'st  me,  do  him  not  that 
wrong, 
To  bear  a  hard  opinion  of  his  truth : 
Only  deserve  my  love,  by  loving  him ; 
And  presently  go  with  me  to  my  chamber, 
To  take  a  note  of  what  I  stand  in  need  of, 
To  furnish  me  upon  my  longing  journey.3 
All  that  is  mine  I  leave  at  thy  dispose, 
My  goods,  my  lands,  my  reputation ; 
Only,  in  lieu  thereof,  despatch  me  hence : 
Come,  answer  not,  but  to  it  presently ; 
I  am  impatient  of  my  tarriance.  \Lxeunt. 


2  as  infinite ]  Old  edit. — ^infinite.     Johnson. 

The  emendation  was  made  by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio. 

Malone. 

3  my  longing  journey.]   Dr.  Grey  observes,  that  longing 

is  a  participle  active,  with  a  passive  signification ;  for  longed, 
wished,  or  desired. 

Mr.  M.  Ma»on  supposes  Julia  to  mean  a  journey  which  she 

shall  pass  in  longing.     Sxeevens. 


238  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  in. 

ACT  III.     SCENE  I. 

Milan.     An  Anti-room  in  the  Duke's  Palace. 

Enter  Duke,  Thurio,  and  Proteus. 

Duke.  Sir  Thurio,  give  us  leave,  I  pray,  awhile ; 

We  have  some  secrets  to  confer  about. 

\_Exit  Thurio. 
Now,  tell  me,  Proteus,  what's  your  will  with  me  ? 

Pro.    My  gracious  lord,  that  which  I  would 
discover, 
The  law  of  friendship  bids  me  to  conceal : 
But,  when  I  call  to  mind  your  gracious  favours 
Done  to  me,  undeserving  as  I  am, 
My  duty  pricks  me  on  to  utter  that 
Which  else  no  worldly  good  should  draw  from  me. 
Know,  worthy  prince,  sir  Valentine,  my  friend, 
This  night  intends  to  steal  away  your  daughter  j 
Myself  am  one  made  privy  to  the  plot. 
I  know,  you  have  determin'd  to  bestow  her 
On  Thurio,  whom  your  gentle  daughter  hates ; 
And  should  she  thus  be  stolen  away  from  you, 
It  would  be  much  vexation  to  your  age. 
Thus,  for  my  duty's  sake,  I  rather  chose 
To  cross  my  friend  in  his  intended  drift, 
Than,  by  concealing  it,  heap  on  your  head 
A  pack  of  sorrows,  which  would  press  you  down, 
Being  unprevented,  to  your  timeless  grave. 

Duke.  Proteus,  I  thank  thee  for  thine  honest  care ; 
Which  to  requite,  command  me  while  I  live. 
This  love  of  theirs  myself  have  often  seen, 
Haply,  when  they  have  judged  me  fast  asleep  ; 
And  oftentimes  have  purpos'd  to  forbid 


sc.  I.  OF  VERONA.  239 

Sir  Valentine  her  company,  and  my  court : 
But,  fearing  lest  my  jealous  aim4  might  err, 
And  so,  unworthily,  disgrace  the  man, 
(A  rashness  that  I  ever  yet  have  shunn'd,) 
I  gave  him  gentle  looks  ;  thereby  to  find 
That  which  thyself  hast  now  disclos'd  to  me. 
And,  that  thou  may'st  perceive  my  fear  of  this, 
Knowing  that  tender  youth  is  soon  suggested, 
I  nightly  lodge  her  in  an  upper  tower, 
The  key  whereof  myself  have  ever  kept ; 
And  thence  she  cannot  be  convey'd  away. 

Pro.  Know,  noble  lord,  they  have  devis'd  a  mean 
How  he  her  chamber-window  will  ascend, 
And  with  a  corded  ladder  fetch  her  down ; 
For  which  the  youthful  lover  now  is  gone, 
And  this  way  comes  he  with  it  presently  ; 
Where,  if  it  please  you,  you  may  intercept  him. 
But,  good  my  lord,  do  it  so  cunningly, 
That  my  discovery  be  not  aimed  at ; 5 
For  love  of  you,  not  hate  unto  my  friend, 
Hath  made  me  publisher  of  this  pretence.6 

Duke.  Upon  mine  honour,  he  shall  never  know 
That  I  had  any  light  from  thee  of  this. 

Pro.  Adieu,  my  lord ;  sir  Valentine  is  coming. 

[Exit. 


*  jealous  aim  — ]  Aim  is  guessy  in  this  instance,  as  in 

the  following.     So,  in  Romeo  and  Juliet  : 

"  I  aim'd  so  near  when  I  suppos'd  you  lov'd."  Steevens. 

5  be  not  aimed  at ;]   Be  not  guessed.     Johnson. 

6  of  this  pretence.]  Of  this  claim  made  to  your  daughter. 

Johnson. 

Pretence  is  design.  So,  in  K.  Lear  :  "  —  to  feel  my  affec- 
tion to  your  honour,  and  no  other  pretence  of  danger." 

Again,  in  the-  same  play:  "  — pretence  and  purpose  of  un- 
kindness."     Steevens. 


240  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  in. 

Enter  Valentine. 

Duke.  Sir  Valentine,  whither  away  so  fast  ? 

Val.  Please  it  your  grace,  there  is  a  messenger 
That  stays  to  bear  my  letters  to  my  friends, 
And  I  am  going  to  deliver  them. 

Duke.  Be  they  of  much  import  ? 

Val.  The  tenor  of  them  doth  but  signify 
My  health,  and  happy  being  at  your  court. 

Duke.  Nay,  then  no  matter;  staywithmeawhile; 
I  am  to  break  with  thee  of  some  affairs, 
That  touch  me  near,  wherein  thou  must  be  secret. 
*Tis  not  unknown  to  thee,  that  I  have  sought 
To  match  my  friend,  sir  Thurio,  to  my  daughter. 

Val.  I  know  it  well,  my  lord;  and,  sure,  the  match 
Were  rich  and  honourable  ;  besides,  the  gentleman 
Is  full  of  virtue,  bounty,  worth,  and  qualities 
Beseeming  such  a  wife  as  your  fair  daughter : 
Cannot  your  grace  win  her  to  fancy  him  ? 

Duke.  No,  trust  me;  she  is  peevish,  sullen,  fro- 
ward, 
Proud,  disobedient,  stubborn,  lacking  duty ; 
Neither  regarding  that  she  is  my  child, 
Nor  fearing  me  as  if  I  were  her  father : 
And,  may  I  say  to  thee,  this  pride  of  hers, 
Upon  advice,  hath  drawn  my  love  from  her ; 
And,  where7  I  thought  the  remnant  of  mine  age 
Should  have  been  cherish'd  by  her  child-like  duty, 
I  now  am  full  resolved  to  take  a  wife, 
And  turn  her  out  to  who  will  take  her  in  : 
Then  let  her  beauty  be  her  wedding-dower ; 
For  me  and  my  possessions  she  esteems  not. 

7  And,  where  — ]   Where,  in  this  instance,  has  the  power  of 
•whereas.     So,  in  Pericles,  Act  I.  sc.  i  : 

"  Where  now  you're  both  a  father  and  a  son."  Steevens, 


90.  /.  OF  VERONA.  241 

Val.  What  would  vour  grace  have  me  to  do  in 
this  ? 

Duke.  There  is  a  lady,  sir,  in  Milan,  here,8 
Whom  I  affect ;  but  she  is  nice,  and  coy, 
And  nought  esteems  my  aged  eloquence  : 
Now,  therefore,  would  I  have  thee  to  my  tutor, 
(For  long  agone  I  have  forgot  to  court : 
Besides,  the  fashion  of  the  time9  is  changed;) 
How,  and  which  way,  I  may  bestow  myself, 
To  be  regarded  in  her  sun-bright  eye. 

Val.  Win  her  with  gifts,  if  she  respect  not  words  j 
Dumb  jewels  often,  in  their  silent  kind, 
More  than  quick  words,  do  move  a  woman's  mind.1 


8 sir,  in  Milan,  here,']  It  ought  to  be  thus,  instead  of — in 

Verona,  here — for  the  scene  apparently  is  in  Milan,  as  is  clear 
from  several  passages  in  the  first  act,  and  in  the  beginning  of  the 
first  scene  of  the  fourth  act.  A  like  mistake  has  crept  into  the 
eighth  scene  of  Act  II.  where  Speed  bids  his  fellow-servant 
Launce  welcome  to  Padua.     Pope. 

9  the  fashion  of  the  time — ]  The  modes  of  courtship, 

the  acts  by  which  men  recommended  themselves  to  ladies. 

Johnson. 

1   Win  her  with  gifts,  if  she  respect  not  ivords  ; 
Dumb  jewels  often,  in  their  silent  kind, 

More  than  quick  words,  do  move  a  'woman's  mind.]    So,  in 
our  author's  Passionate  Pilgrim  : 
"  Spare  not  to  spend, — 
"  The  strongest  castle,  tower,  and  town, 
"  The  golden  bullet  beats  it  down." 
A  line  of  this  stanza — 

"  The  strongest  castle,  tower,  and  town," 
and  two  in  a  succeeding  stanza — 

"  What  though  she  strive  to  try  her  strength, 

"  And  ban  and  brawl,  and  say  thee  nay," 

remind  us  of  the  following  verses  in  Hie  Historic  of  Graunde 
Amoure,  [sign.  I  2,]  written  by  Stephen  Hawes,  near  a  century 
before  those  of  Shakspeare : 

"  forsake  her  not,  though  that  she  saye  nay  ; 
"  A  womans  guise  is  evermore  delay. 
VOL.  IV.  R 


242  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  in- 

Duke.  But  she  did  scorn  a  present  that  I  sent  her.2 

Val.  A  woman  sometimes  scorns  what  best  con- 
tents her : 


"  No  Castell  can  be  of  so  great  a  strength, 
"  If  that  there  be  a  sure  siege  to  it  layed ; 
**  It  must  yelde  up,  or  els  be  won  at  length, 
"  Though  that  'to-fore  it  hath  bene  long  delayed ; 
"  So  continuance  may  you  right  well  ayde : 
"  Some  womans  harte  can  not  so  harded  be, 
"  But  busy  labour  may  make  it  agree." 
Another  earlier  writer  than  Shakspeare,  speaking  of  women, 
has  also  the  same  unfavourable  (and,  I  hope,  unfounded,)  sen- 
timent : 

"  'Tis  wisdom  to  give  much ;  a  gift  prevails, 
"  When  deep  persuasive  oratory  fails." 

Marlowe's  Hero  and  Leander. 

Malone. 

Again,  in  the  First  Part  of  Jeronimo,  1005,  though  written 

much  earlier: 

" let  his  protestations  be 

"  Fashioned  with  rich  jewels,  for  in  love 
"  Great  gifts  and  gold  have  the  best  tongues  to  move. 
"  Let  him  not  spare  an  oath  without  a  jewel 
"  To  bind  it  fast :  oh,  I  know  womens  hearts 
"  What  stuff  they  are  made  of,  my  lord:  gifts  and  giving, 
"  Will  melt  the  chastest  seeming  female  living." 
The  same  rude  sentiment  was  soon  after  adopted  by  Beaumont 

and  Fletcher  in  The  Woman  Hater,  1607,  Act  IV.  sc.  ii : 

" your  offers  must 

u  Be  full  of  bounty ;  velvets  to  furnish  a  gown,  silks 

"  For  petticoats  and  foreparts,  shag  for  lining  ; 

"  Forget  not  some  pretty  jewel  to  fasten  after 

"  Some  little  compliment !  If  she  deny  this  courtesy, 

"  Double  your  bounties  ;  be  not  wanting  in  abundance  : 

"  Fullness  of  gifts,  link'd  with  a  pleasing  tongue, 

"  Will  win  an  anchorite."     Reed. 

that  I  sent  her.]  To  produce  a  more  accurate  rhyme, 


we  might  read : 

" that  I  sent  Sir:" 

Mr.  M.  Mason  observes,  that  the  rhyme,  which  was  evidently 
here  intended,  requires  that  we  should  read — "  what  best  content 
her."  The  word  what  may  imply  those  which,  as  well  as  that 
•which,    Steevens. 


/C> 


sc.  i.  OF  VERONA.  243 

Send  her  another  ;  never  give  her  o'er ; 
For  scorn  at  first  makes  after-love  the  more. 
If  she  do  frown,  'tis  not  in  hate  of  you, 
But  rather  to  beget  more  love  in  you : 
If  she  do  chide,  'tis  not  to  have  you  gone ; 
For  why,  the  fools  are  mad,  if  left  alone. 
Take  no  repulse,  whatever  she  doth  say ; 
For,  get  you  gojie,  she  doth  not  mean,  away : 
Flatter,  and  praise,  commend,  extol  their  graces ; 
Though  ne'er  so  black,  say,  they  have  angels'  faces. 
That  man  that  hath  a  tongue,  I  say,  is  no  man, 
If  with  his  tongue  he  cannot  win  a  woman. 

Duke.  But  she,  I  mean, is  promis'd  by  her  friends 
Unto  a  youthful  gentleman  of  worth  ; 
And  kept  severely  from  resort  of  men, 
That  no  man  hath  access  by  day  to  her. 

Val.  Why  then  I  would  resort  to  her  by  night. 

Duke.  Ay, but  the  doors  be  lock'd,and  keys  kept 
safe, 
That  no  man  hath  recourse  to  her  by  night. 

Val.  What  lets,3  but  one  may  enter  at  her  win- 
dow ? 

Duke.  Her  chamber  is  aloft, far  from  the  ground ; 
And  built  so  shelving  that  one  cannot  cljmb  it 
Without  apparent  hazard  of  his  life. 

Val.  Why  then,  a  ladder,  quaintly  made  of  cords, 
To  cast  up  with  a  pair  of  anchoring  hooks, 
Would  serve  to  scale  another  Hero's  tower, 
So  bold  Leander  would  adventure  it. 


3   What  lets,]    i.  e.  what   hinders.      So,  in   Hamlet,   Act  I. 
pc.  iv : 

"  By  heaven,  I'll  make  a  ghost  ofbim  that  lets  me." 

Steevf.ns. 

R  2 


244  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  in. 

Duke.  Now,  as  thou  art  a  gentleman  of  bloody 
Advise  me  where  I  may  have  such  a  ladder. 

Val.  When  would  you  use  it?  pray,  sir,  tell  me 
that. 

Duke.  This  very  night;  for  love  is  like  a  child, 
That  longs  for  every  thing  that  he  can  come  by. 

Val.  By  seven  o'clock  I'll  get  you  such  a  ladder. 

Duke.  But,  hark  thee  ;  I  will  go  to  her  alone; 
How  shall  I  best  convey  the  ladder  thither  ? 

Val.  It  will  be  light,  my  lord, that  you  may  bear  it 
Under  a  cloak,  that  is  of  any  length. 

Duke.  A  cloak  as  long  as  thine  will  serve  the  turn  ? 
Val.  Ay,  my  good  lord. 

Duke.  Then  let  me  see  thy  cloak ; 
I'll  get  me  one  of  such  another  length. 

Val.  Why,  any  cloak  will  serve  the  turn,  my  lord. 

Duke.  How  shall  I  fashion  me  to  wear  a  cloak? — 
I  pray  thee,  let  me  feel  thy  cloak  upon  me. — 
What  letter  is  this  same?  What's  here? — To  Silvia? 
And  here  an  engine  fit  for  my  proceeding ! 
I'll  be  so  bold  to  break  the  seal  for  once.  \_Reads. 
My  thoughts  do  harbour  with  my  Silvia  nightly ; 

And  slaves  they  are  to  me,  that  send  themfying: 
O,  could  their  master  come  and  go  as  lightly, 

^Himself would  lodge, where  senseless  they  are  lying. 
My  herald  thoughts  in  thy  'pure  bosom  rest  them; 

While  I,  their  king,  that  thither  them  importune, 
Do  curse  the  grace  that  with  such  grace  hath  bless1  d 
them, 

Because  myself  do  want  my  servants' fortune : 
I  curse  my  self,  for  they  are  sent  by  me,4 
That  they  should  harbour  where  their  lord  should  be. 

for  they  are  sent  by  me,']  For  is  the  same  as  for  that, 


since.    Johnson. 


jr  /.  OF  VERONA.  245 

What's  here  ? 

Silvia,  this  night  I  will  enfranchise  thee: 
'Tis  so ;  and  here's  the  ladder  for  the  purpose. — 
Why,  Phaeton,  (for  thou  art  Merops'  son,;5 
Wilt  thou  aspire  to  guide  the  heavenly  car, 
And  with  thy  daring  folly  burn  the  world  ? 
Wilt  thou  reach  stars,  because  they  shine  on  thee? 
Go,  base  intruder !  over-weening  slave ! 
Bestow  thy  fawning  smiles  on  equal  mates ; 
And  think,  my  patience,  more  than  thy  desert, 
Is  privilege  for  thy  departure  hence : 
Thank  me  for  this,  more  than  for  all  the  favours, 
Which,  all  too  much,  I  have  bestow'd  on  thee. 
But  if  thou  linger  in  my  territories, 
Longer  than  swiftest  expedition 
Will  give  thee  time  to  leave  our  royal  court, 
By  heaven,  my  wrath  shall  far  exceed  the  love 
I  ever  bore  my  daughter,  or  thyself. 
Be  gone,  I  will  not  hear  thy  vain  excuse, 
But,  as  thou  lov'st  thy  life,  make  speed  from  hence. 

[Exit  Duke. 

Val.  And  why  not  death,  rather  than  living 
torment  ? 
To  die,  is  to  be  banish'd  from  myself; 
And  Silvia  is  myself:  banish'd  from  her, 


4  Merops*  sow,)]  Thou  art  Phaeton  in  thy  rashness,  but 

without  his  pretensions  ;  thou  art  not  the  son  of  a  divinity,  but  a 
terra  films,  a  low-born  wretch ;  Merops  is  thy  true  father,  with 
whom  Phaeton  was  falsely  reproached.     Johnson. 

This  scrap  of  mythology  Shakspeare  might  have  found  in  the 
spurious  play  of  A".  John,  15Q1  : 

" as  sometime  Phaeton 

"  Mistrusting  silly  Merops  for  his  sire." 
Or  in  Robert  Greene's  Orlando  Fnrioso,  15Q4: 

"  Why,  foolish,  hardy,  daring,  simple  groom, 

"  Follower  of  fond  conceited  Phaeton,"  &c.    Steevens. 


i>46  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  ni. 

Is  self  from  self;  a  deadly  banishment! 
What  light  is  light,  if  Silvia  be  not  seen  ? 
What  joy  is  joy,  if  Silvia  be  not  by  ? 
Unless  it  be  to  think  that  she  is  by, 
And  feed  upon  the  shadow  of  perfection.* 
Except  I  be  by  Silvia  in  the  night, 
There  is  no  musick  in  the  nightingale ; 
Unless  I  look  on  Silvia  in  the  day, 
There  is  no  day  for  me  to  look  upon : 
She  is  my  essence ;  and  I  leave  to  be, 
If  I  be  not  by  her  fair  influence 
Foster'd,  illumin'd,  cherish'd,  kept  alive. 
I  fly  not  death,  to  fly  his  deadly  doom  :7 
Tarry  I  here,  I  but  attend  on  death ; 
But,  fly  I  hence,  I  fly  away  from  life. 

Enter  Proteus  and  Launce. 

Pro.  Run,  boy,  run,  run,  and  seek  him  out. 

Laun.  So-ho  !  so-ho ! 

Pro.  What  seest  thou  ? 

Laun.  Him  we  go  to  find:  there's  not  a  hair8 
on's  head,  but  'tis  a  Valentine. 

Pro.  Valentine? 

Val.  No. 


6  And  feed  upon  the  shadow  of  perfection.] 

"  Animum  pictura  pascit  inani."     Virg.     Henley. 

7  /  fly  not  deaths  to  fly  his  deadly  doom:]  To  fly  his  doom, 
used  for  by  flying,  or  in  flying,  is  a  Gallicism.  The  sense  is,  by 
avoiding  the  execution  of  his  sentence  I  shall  not  escape  death. 
Jf  I  stay  here,  I  suffer  myself  to  be  destroyed ;  if  I  go  away,  I 
destroy  myself.    Johnson. 

8 there's  not  a  hair — ]  Launce  is  still  quibbling.     He  is 

now  running  down  the  hare  that  he  started  when  he  entered. 

Malone. 


sc.  I.  OF  VERONA.  247 

Pro.  Who  then  ?  his  spirit  ? 

Val.  Neither. 

Pro.  What  then? 

Val.  Nothing. 

Laun.  Can  nothing  speak  ?  master,  shall  I  strike? 

Pro.  Whom?)would'st  thou  strike  ? 

Laun.  Nothing. 

Pro.  Villain,  forbear. 

Laun.  Why,  sir,  I'll  strike  nothing:  I   pray 
you,— 

Pro.  Sirrah,  I  say,  forbear :  Friend  Valentine,  a 
word. 

Val.  My  ears  are  stopp'd,  and  cannot  hear  good 
news, 
So  much  of  bad  already  hath  possess'd  them. 

Pro.  Then  in  dumb  silence  will  I  bury  mine, 
For  they  are  harsh,  untuneable,  and  bad. 

Val.  Is  Silvia  dead  ? 

Pro.  No,  Valentine. 

Val.  No  Valentine,  indeed,  for  sacred  Silvia ! — 
Hath  she  forsworn  me  ? 

Pro.  No,  Valentine. 

Val.  No  Valentine,  if  Silvia  have  forsworn  me  ! — 
What  is  your  news  ? 

Laun.  Sir,  there's  a  proclamation  that  you  are 
vanish'd. 

Pro.  That  thou  art  banished,  O,  that's  the  news ; 
From  hence,  from  Silvia,  and  from  me  thy  friend. 

Val.  O,  I  have  fed  upon  this  woe  already, 

*  Whom  — ]  Old  copy — Who.     Corrected  in  the  second  folio. 

Malone. 


24S  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  in. 

And  now  excess  of  it  will  make  me  surfeit. 
Doth  Silvia  know  that  I  am  banished  ? 

Pro.  Ay,  ay;  and  she  hath  offer'd  to  the  doom, 
(Which,  unrevers'd,  stands  in  effectual  force,) 
A  sea  of  melting  pearl,  which  some  call  tears : 
Those  at  her  father's  churlish  feet  she  tender'd ; 
With  them,  upon  her  knees,  her  humble  self; 
Wringing  her  hands,  whose  whiteness  so  became 

them, 
As  if  but  now  they  waxed  pale  for  woe  : 
But  neither  bended  knees,  pure  hands  held  up, 
Sad  sighs,  deep  groans,  nor  silver-shedding  tears, 
Could  penetrate  her  uncompassionate  sire  ; 
But  Valentine,  if  he  be  ta'en,  must  die. 
Besides,  her  intercession  chaf 'd  him  so, 
When  she  for  thy  repeal  was  suppliant, 
That  to  close  prison  he  commanded  her, 
With  many  bitter  threats  of  'biding  there. 

Val.  No  more  ;  unless  the  next  word  that  thou 
speak'st, 
Have  some  malignant  power  upon  my  life  : 
If  so,  I  pray  thee,  breathe  it  in  mine  ear, 
As  ending  anthem  of  my  endless  dolour. 

Pro.  Cease  to  lament  for  that  thou  canst  not  help, 
And  study  help  for  that  which  thou  lament'st. 
Time  is  the  nurse  and  breeder  of  all  good. 
Here  if  thou  stay,  thou  canst  not  see  thy  love ; 
Besides,  thy  staying  will  abridge  thy  life. 
Hope  is  a  lover's  staff;  walk  hence  with  that, 
And  manage  it  against  despairing  thoughts. 
Thy  letters  may  be  here,  though  thou  art  hence ; 
Which,  being  writ  to  me,  shall  be  deliver'd 
Even  in  the  milk-white  bosom  of  thy  love.1 

1  Even  in  the  milk-white  bosom  of  thy  love.]  So,  in  Hamlet: 
"  These  to  her  excellent  white  bosom,"  &c. 
Again,  in  Gascoigne's  Adventures  of  Master  F.  I.  first  edit. 


sc.  i.  OF  VERONA.  21 J 

The  time  now  serves  not  to  expostulate : 
Come,  I'll  convey  thee  through  the  city  gate ; 
And,  ere  I  part  with  thee,  confer  at  large 
Of  all  that  may  concern  thy  love-affairs : 
As  thou  lov'st  Silvia,  though  not  for  thyself, 
Regard  thy  danger,  and  along  with  me. 

Val.  I  pray  thee,Launce,an  if  thou  seest  my  boy, 
Bid  him  make  haste,and  meet  me  at  the  north-gate. 

Pro.  Go,  sirrah,  find  him  out.  Come,  Valentine. 

Val.  O  my  dear  Silvia !  hapless  Valentine ! 

[Exeunt  Valentine  and  Proteus. 

Laun.  I  am  but  a  fool,  look  you  ;  and  yet  I  have 
the  wit  to  think,  my  master  is  a  kind  of  knave : 
but  that's  all  one,  if  he  be  but  one  knave.2     He 


p.  206:  "  — at  deliuerie  thereof,  [i.  e.  of  a  letter,]  she  under- 
stode  not  for  what  cause  he  thrust  the  same  into  her  bosome." 

Trifling  as  the  remark  may  appear,  before  the  meaning  of  this 
address  of  letters  to  the  bosom  of  a  mistress  can  be  understood,  it 
should  be  known  that  women  anciently  had  a  pocket  in  the  fore 
part  of  their  stays,  in  which  they  not  only  carried  love-letters  and 
love  tokens,  but  even  their  money  and  materials  for  needle  work. 
Thus  Chaucer,  in  his  Marchantes  Tale: 

"  This  purse  hath  she  in  hire  bosome.  hid." 
In  many  parts  of  England  the  rustic  damsels  still  observe  the 
same  practice  ;  and  a  very  old  lady  informs  me  that  she  remem- 
bers, when  it  was  the  fashion  to  wear  prominent  stays,  it  was  no 
less  the  custom  for  stratagem  and  gallantry  to  drop  its  literary 
favours  within  the  front  of  them.     Steevens. 

See  Lord  Surrey's  Sonnets,  1557  : 

"  My  song,  thou  shalt  attain  to  find  the  pleasant  place, 
"  Where  she  doth  live,  by  whom  I  live ;  may  chance  to 

have  the  grace, 
"  When  she  hath  read,  and  seen  the  grief  wherein  I  serve, 
"  Between  her  brests  she  shall  thee  put,  there  shall  she  thee 

reserve.'*     Ma  lone. 

*  Laun.  /  am  but  a  fool,  look  you  ;  and  yet  I  have  the  wit  to 
think,  my  master  h  a  kind  of  knave:  but  that's  all  one,  if  he 
be  but  one  KNAVE.]  Where  is  the  sense?  or,  if  you  won't  allow 


250  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  in. 

lives  not  now,  that  knows  me  to  be  in  love  :  yet  I 
am  in  love  ;  but  a  team  of  horse  shall  not  pluck ? 


the  speaker  that,  where  is  the  humour  of  this  speech  ?  Nothing 
had  given  the  fool  occasion  to  suspect  that  his  master  was  become 
double,  like  Antipholis  in  The  Comedy  of  Errors.  The  last  word 
is  corrupt.     We  should  read : 

if  he  be  but  one  kind. 

He  thought  his  master  was  a  kind  of  knave;  however,  he  keeps 
himself  in  countenance  with  this  reflection,  that  if  he  was  a  knave 
but  of  one  kind,  he  might  pass  well  enough  amongst  his  neigh- 
bours.    This  is  truly  humorous.     Warburton. 

This  alteration  is  acute  and  specious,  yet  I  know  not  whether, 
in  Shakspeare's  language,  one  knave  may  not  signify  a  knave  on 
only  one  occasion,  a  single  knave.  We  still  use  a  double  villain 
for  a  villain  beyond  the  common  rate  of  guilt.    Johnson. 

This  passage  has  been  altered,  with  little  difference,  by  Dr. 
Warburton  and  Sir  T.  Hanmer.— Mr.  Edwards  explains  it, — 
"  if  he  only  be  a  knave,  if  /  myself  be  not  found  to  be  another." 
I  agree  with  Dr.  Johnson,  and  will  support  the  old  reading  and 
his  interpretation  with  indisputable  authority.  In  the  old  play  of 
Damon  and  Pythias,  Aristippus  declares  of  Carisophus :  "  You 
lose  money  by  him  if  you  sell  him  for  one  knave,  for  he  serves  for 
twayne." 

This  phraseology  is  often  met  with :  Arragon  says,  in  The 
Merchant  of  Venice: 

"  With  one  fool's  head  I  came  to  woo, 
"  But  I  go  away  with  fovo." 
Donne  begins  one  of  his  sonnets : 
"  I  am  two  fools,  I  know, 
"  For  loving  and  for  saying  so."  &c. 
And  when  Panurge  cheats  St.  Nicholas  of  the  chapel,  which 
he  vowed  to  him  in  a  storm,  Rabelais  calls  him  "  a  rogue — a 
rogue  and  an  half—Le  gallant,  gallant  de  demy."     Farmer. 

Again,  in  Like  Will  to  Like,  quoth  the  Devil  to  the  Collier, 
1587: 

"  Thus  thou  may'st  be  called  a  knave  in  graine, 
"  And  where  knaves  be  scant,  thou  may'st  go  for  tivayne." 

Steevens. 

3 a  team  of  horse  shall  not  pluck — ]  I  see  how  Valentine 

suffers  for  telling  his  love-secrets,  therefore  I  will  keep  mine  close. 

Johnson. 


$e.  i.  OF  VERONA.  251 

that  from  me  ;  nor  who  'tis  I  love,  and  yet  'tis  a 
woman  :  but  that  woman,  I  will  not  tell  myself; 
and  yet  'tis  a  milk-maid  :  yet  'tis  not  a  maid,  for 
she  hath  had  gossips  : 4  yet  'tis  a  maid,  for  she  is 
her  master's  maid,  and  serves  for  wages.  She 
hath  more  qualities  than  a  water-spaniel, — which 
is  much  in  a  bare  christian.5  Here  is  the  cat- 
log  [Pulling  out  a  paper']  of  her  conditions^0  Im- 
primis, She  can  fetch  and  carry.  Why,  a  horse  can 
do  no  more  ;  nay,  a  horse  cannot  fetch,  but  only 
carry ;  therefore,  is  she  better  than  a  jade.  Item, 
She  can  milk ;  look  you,  a  sweet  virtue  in  a  maid 
with  clean  bands. 

Enter  Speed. 

Speed.  How  now,  signior  Launce  ?  what  news 
with  your  mastership  ? 

Laun.  With  my  master's  ship  ? 7  why,  it  is  at  sea. 

Perhaps  Launce  was  not  intended  to  shew  so  much  sense ; 
but  here  indulges  himself  in  talking  contradictory  nonsense. 

Steevens. 

4  for  she  hath  had  gossips  :]  Gossips  not  only  signify  those 

who  answer  for  a  child  in  baptism,  but  the  tattling  women  who 
attend  lyings-in.     The  quibble  between  these  is  evident. 

Steevens. 

4  a  bare  christian.']  Launce  is  quibbling  on.     Bare  has 

two  senses  ;  mere  and  naked.  In  Coriolanus  it  is  used  in  the  first : 
"  'Tis  but  a  hare  petition  of  the  state." 
Launce  uses  it  in  both,  and  opposes  the  naked  female  to  the 
water-spaniel  covered  xiith  hairs  of  remarkable  thickness. 

Steevens. 

6  her  conditions.]  i.  c.  qualities.     The  old  copy  has  con~ 

dilion.     Corrected  by  Mr.  Rowe.     Malone. 

7  With  my  master  s  ship?"]  In  former  editions  it  is— 

With  my  mastership?  tv/ii/,  it  is  at  sea. 
For  how  does  Launce  mistake  the  word  ?  Speed  asks  him  about 
his  mastership,  and  he  replies  to  it  literatim.     But  then  how  was 
his  mastership  at  sea,  and  on  shore  too  ?  The  addition  of  a  letter 


252  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  in. 

Speed.    Well,  your  old  vice  still;  mistake  the 
word : 
What  news  then  in  your  paper  ? 

Laun.  Theblackest  news  that  ever  thou  heard'st. 

Speed.  Why,  man,  how  black  ? 

Laun.  Why,  as  black  as  ink. 

Speed.  Let  me  read  them. 

Laun.  Fye  on  thee,  jolt-head ;  thou  canst  not 
read. 

Speed.  Thou  liest,  I  can. 

Laun.  I  will  try  thee  :  Tell  me  this  :  Who  begot 
thee  ? 

Speed.  Marry,  the  son  of  my  grandfather. 

Laun.  O  illiterate  loiterer !  it  was  the  son  of  thy 
grandmother : 8  this  proves,  thatthoucanst  not  read. 

Speed.  Come,  fool,  come  :  try  me  in  thy  paper. 

La un.  There  j  and  saint  Nicholas  be  thy  speed ! ;' 

and  a  note  of  apostrophe,  makes  Launce  both  mistake  the  word, 
and  sets  the  pun  right :  it  restores,  indeed,  but  a  mean  joke  ;  but, 
without  it,  there  is  no  sense  in  the  passage.  Besides,  it  is  in 
character  with  the  rest  of  the  scene ;  and,  I  dare  be  confident, 
the  poet's  own  conceit.     Theobaid. 

8  the  son  of  thy  grandmother  :]  It  is  undoubtedly  true 

that  the  mother  only  knows  the  legitimacy  of  the  child.  I  sup- 
pose Launce  infers,  that  if  he  could  read,  he  must  have  read 
this  well  known  observation.     Steevens. 

9  saint   Nicholas  be  thy  speed  J]  St.  Nicholas  presided 

over  scholars,  who  were  therefore  called  St.  Nicholas's  clerks. 
Hence,  by  a  quibble  between  Nicholas  and  Old  Nick,  highway- 
men, in  The  First  Part  of  Henry  the  Fourth,  are  called  Ni- 
cholas's clerks.     Warburton. 

That  this  saint  presided  over  young  scholars,  may  be  gathered 
from  Knight's  Life  of  Dean  Colet,  p.  362,  for  by  the  statutes  of 
Paul's  school  there  inserted,  the  children  are  required  to  attend 
divine  service  at  the  cathedral  on  his  anniversary.     The  reason  I 


sc.  i.  OF  VERONA.  253 

Speed.  Imprimis,  She  can  milk. 

Laux.  Ay,  that  she  can.1 

Speed.  Item,  She  brews  good  ale. 

Laux.  And  thereof  comes  the  proverb, — Bless- 
ing of  your  heart,2  you  brew  good  ale. 

Speed.  Item,  She  can  sew. 

Laux.  That's  as  much  as  to  say,  Can  she  so  ? 

Speed.  Item,  She  can  knit. 

Laux.  What  need  a  man  care  for  a  stock  with 
a  wench,  when  she  can  knit  him  a  stock.3 

Speed.  Item,  She  can  wash  arid  scour. 

Laux.  A  special  virtue ;  for  then  she  need  not 
be  washed  and  scoured. 

Speed.  Item,  She  can  spin. 


take  to  be,  that  the  legend  of  this  saint  makes  him  to  have  been 
a  bishop,  while  he  was  a  boy.     Sir  J.  Hawkins. 

So,  Puttenham,  in  his  Art  of  Poetry,  15Sg  :  "  Methinks  this 
fellow  speaks  like  bishop  Nicholas  ;  for  on  Saint  Nicholas's  night 
commonly  the  scholars  of  the  country  make  them  a  bishop,  who, 
like  a  foolish  boy,  goeth  about  blessing  and  preaching  with  such 
childish  terms,  as  maketh  the  people  laugh  at  his  foolish  coun- 
terfeit speeches."     Steevens. 

1  Speed.  Imprimis,  She  can  milk. 
Laun.  Ay,  that  the  can."]  These  two  speeches  should  evi- 
dently be  omitted.  There  is  not  only  no  attempt  at  humour  in 
them,  contrary  to  all  the  rest  in  the  same  dialogue,  but  Launce 
clearly  directs  Speed  to  go  on  with  the  paper  where  he  himself 
left  off.     See  his  preceding  soliloquy.     Farmer. 

*  Blessing  of  your  heart,  &c]       So,  in   Ben  Jonson's 

Masque  of  Augurs  : 

"  Our  ale's  o'  the  best, 
"  And  each  good  guest 

"  Prays  for  their  souls  that  brew  it."     Steevens. 

3  knit    him   a    stock.]    i.  e.   stocking.      So,  in   Twelfth 

Night  :  "  —  it  does  indifferent  well  in  a  Hame-colour'd  stock." 

STKliVtNS. 


254  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  in. 

Laux.  Then  may  I  set  the  world  on  wheels,  when 
she  can  spin  for  her  living. 

Speed.  Item,  She  hath  many  nameless  virtues, 

Laux.  That's  as  much  as  to  say,  bastard  virtues  ; 
that,  indeed,  know  not  their  fathers,  and  therefore 
have  no  names. 

Speed.  Here  follow  her  vices. 

Laux.  Close  at  the  heels  of  her  virtues. 

Speed.  Item,  She  is  not  to  be  kissed  fasting,4  in 
respect  of  her  breath. 

Laux.  Well,  that  fault  may  be  mended  with  a 
breakfast :  Read  on. 

Speed.  Item,  She  hath  a  sweet  mouth? 

Laux.  That  makes  amends  for  her  sour  breath. 

Speed.  Item,  She  doth  talk  in  her  sleep. 

Laux.  It's  no  matter  for  that,  so  she  sleep  not 
in  her  talk. 

Speed.  Item,  She  is  slow  in  words. 

Laux.  O  villain,  that  set  this  down  among  her 

4  she  is  not  to  be  kissed  fasting^]    The  old  copy  reads — 

she  is  not  to  be  fasting,  &c.     The  necessary  word — kissed,  was 
first  added  by  Mr.  Rowe.     Steevens. 

5 sweet  mouth.']  This  I  take  to  be  the  same  with  what  is 

now  vulgarly  called  a  sweet  tooth,  a  luxurious  desire  of  dainties 
and  sweetmeats.    Johnson. 

So,  in  Thomas  Paynell's  translation  of  Ulrich  Hutten's  Book 
De  medicina  Guaiaci  &;  Morbo  Gallico,  \52>Q:  " — delycates 
and  deynties,  wherewith  they  may  stere  up  their  stveete  mouthes 
and  prouoke  theyr  appetites." 

Yet  how  a  luxurious  desire  of  dainties  can  make  amends  for 
offensive  breath,  I  know  not.  A  siveet  mouth  may,  however, 
mean  a  likerish  mouth,  in  a  wanton  sense.  So,  in  Measure  for 
Measure  : 

"  Their  saucy  sweetness  that  do  coin  heaven's  image,"  &c. 

Steevens. 


sc.  u  OF  VERONA.  255 

vices !  To  be  slow  in  words,  is  a  woman's  only  vir- 
tue :  I  pray  thee,  out  with't ;  and  place  it  for  her 
chief  virtue. 

Speed.  Item,  She  is  proud. 

Laun.  Out  with  that  too ;  it  was  Eve's  legacy, 
and  cannot  be  ta'en  from  her. 

Speed.  Item,  She  hath  no  teeth. 

Laun.  I  care  not  for  that  neither,  because  I  love 
crusts. 

Speed.  Item,  She  is  curst. 

Laun.  Well;  the  best  is,  she  hath  no  teeth  to  bite. 

Speed.  Item,  She  will  often  praise  her  liquor* 

Laun.  If  her  liquor  be  good,  she  shall :  if  she 
will  not,  I  will ;  for  good  things  should  be  praised. 

Speed.  Item,  She  is  too  liberal.7 

Laun.  Of  her  tongue  she  cannot ;  for  that's  writ 
down  she  is  slow  of:  of  her  purse  she  shall  not ;  for 
that  I'll  keep  shut :  now,  of  another  thing  she  may  j 
and  that  I  cannot  help.     Well,  proceed.7 

Speed.  Item,  She  hath  more  hair  than  wit,  and 
more  faults  than  hairs,  and  more  wealth  than  faults. 


praise  her  liquor.']    That  is,  shew  how  well  she  likes  it 


by  drinking  often.     Johnson. 

7 She  is  too  liberal.]  Liberal,  is  licentious  and  gross  in 

language.    So,  in  Othello:  "  Is  he  not  a  profane  and  very  liberal 
counsellor?"     Johnson. 

Again,  in  The  Fair  Maid  of  Bristoia,  16*05,  bl.  1 : 
"  But  Vallenger,  most  like  a  liberal  villain, 
"  Did  give  her  scandalous  ignoble  terms." 
Mr.  Malone  adds  another  instance  from  Woman's  a  Weather- 
cock, by  N.  Field,  1612: 

"  Next  that  the  fame 

11  Of  your  neglect,  and  liberal  talking  tongue, 

"  Which  breeds  my  honour  an  eternal  wrong." 

Steevens. 


256  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  m. 

Laun.  Stop  there  ;  I'll  have  her :  she  was  mine, 
and  not  mine,  twice  or  thrice  in  that  last  article  : 
Rehearse  that  once  more. 

Speed.  Item,  She  hath  more  hair  than  mr$ — 

Laun.  More  hair  than  wit, — it  may  be ;  I'll  prove 
it :  The  cover  of  the  salt  hides  the  salt,  and  there- 
fore it  is  more  than  the  salt ;  the  hair  that  covers 
the  wit,  is  more  than  the  wit  j  for  the  greater  hides 
the  less.     What's  next  ? 

Speed.  — And  more  faults  than  hairs, — 

Laun.  That's  monstrous :  O,  that  that  were  out ! 

Speed.  — And  more  wealth  than  faults. 

Laun.  Why,  that  word  makes  the  faults  gracious  :9 


8 She  hath  more  hair  than  wit,]  An  old  English  proverb. 

See  Ray's  Collection : 

"  Bush  natural,  more  hair  than  wit." 
Again,  in  Decker's  Satiromastix  : 

"  Hair!  'tis  the  basest  stubble;  in  scorn  of  it 

"  This  proverb  sprung, — He  has  more  hair  than  wit." 
Again,  in  Rhodon  and  Iris,  1631  : 

"  Now  is  the  old  proverb  really  perform'd ; 

"  More  hair  than  wit."     Steevens. 


9 makes  thefaidts  gracious ;]   Gracious,  in  old  language, 

means  graceful.     So,  in  K.  John : 

"  There  was  not  such  a  gracious  creature  born." 
Again,  in  Albion's  Triumph,  1631  : 

"  On  which  (the  freeze)  were  festoons  of  several  fruits  in  their 
natural   colours,  on  which  in  gracious  postures  lay  children 


sleeping." 


Again,  in  The  Mal-content,  1004: 
"  The  most  exquisite,  &c.  that  ever  made  an  old  lady  gracious 
by  torch-light."     Steevens. 

Mr.  Steevens's  interpretation  of  the  word  gracious  has  been 
controverted,  but  it  is  right.  We  have  the  same  sentiment  in 
The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor : 

"  O,  what  a  world  of  vile  ill-favour'd^/fl?^.s 

"  Look  handsome  in  three  hundred  pounds  a  year!" 

Malone. 


sc.  ii.  OF  VERONA.  257 

Well,  I'll  have  her :  And  if  it  be  a  match,  as  no- 
thing is  impossible, — 

Speed.  What  then  ? 

Laux.  Why,  then  I  will  tell  thee, — that  thy 
master  stays  for  thee  at  the  north  gate. 

Speed.  For  me  ? 

Laux.  For  thee  ?  ay ;  who  art  thou  ?  he  hath 
staid  for  a  better  man  than  thee. 

Speed.  And  must  I  go  to  him  ? 

Laux.  Thou  must  run  to  him,  for  thou  hast  staid 
so  long,  that  going  will  scarce  serve  the  turn. 

Speed.  Why  didst  not  tell  me  sooner  ?  'pox  of 
your  love-letters !  \_Exit. 

Laux.  Now  will  he  be  swinged  for  reading  my 
letter :  An  unmannerly  slave,  that  will  thrust  him- 
self into  secrets ! — I'll  after,  to  rejoice  in  the  boy's 
correction.  [Exit. 


SCENE  II. 

The  same.     A  Room  in  the  Duke's  Palace. 

Enter  Duke  and  Thurio  ;  Proteus  behind. 

Duke.  Sir  Thurio,  fear  not,  but  that  she  will 
love  you, 
Now  Valentine  is  banish'd  from  her  sight. 

Thu.  Since  his  exile  she  hath  despis'd  me  most, 
Forsworn  my  company,  and  rail'd  at  me, 
That  I  am  desperate  of  obtaining  her. 

Duke.  This  weak  impress  of  love  is  as  a  figure 

VOL.  iv.  s 


2$8  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  hi. 

Trenched  in  ice ; x  which  with  an  hour's  heat 
Dissolves  to  water,  and  doth  lose  his  form. 
A  little  time  will  melt  her  frozen  thoughts, 
And  worthless  Valentine  shall  be  forgot. — 
How  now,  sir  Proteus  ?  Is  your  countryman, 
According  to  our  proclamation,  gone  ? 

Pro.  Gone,  my  good  lord. 

Duke.  My  daughter  takes  his  going  grievously.2 

Pro.  A  little  time,  my  lord,  will  kill  that  grief. 

Duke.  So  I  believe ;  but  Thurio  thinks  not  so. — 
Proteus,  the  good  conceit  I  hold  of  thee, 
(For  thou  hast  shown  some  sign  of  good  desert,) 
Makes  me  the  better  to  confer  with  thee. 

Pro.  Longer  than  I  prove  loyal  to  your  grace, 
Let  me  not  live  to  look  upon  your  grace. 

DuKE.Thou  know'stjhow  willingly  I  would  effect 
The  match  between  sir  Thurio  and  my  daughter. 

Pro.  I  do,  my  lord. 

Duke.  And  also,  I  think,  thou  art  not  ignorant 
How  she  opposes  her  against  my  will. 

Pro.  She  did,  my  lord,  when  Valentine  was  here. 

Duke.  Ay,  and  perversely  she  persevers  so. 
What  might  we  do,  to  make  the  girl  forget 
The  love  of  Valentine,  and  love  sir  Thurio  ? 


1  Trenched  in  icef]  Cut,  carved  in  ice.     Trancher,  to  cut, 
French.    Johnson. 

So,  in  Arden  of  Feversham,  15t)2 : 

"  Is  deeply  trenched  in  my  blushing  brow."     Steevens. 

* grievously.']  So  some  copies  of  the  first  folio ;  others 

have,  heavily.  The  word,  therefore,  must  have  been  corrected, 
while  the  sheet  was  working  oif  at  the  press.  The  word  last, 
p.  256, 1.  2,  was  inserted  in  some  copies  in  the  same  manner. 

Ma  LONE, 


SC.  ii.  OF  VERONA.  259 

Pro.  The  best  way  is  to  slander  Valentine 
With  falshood,  cowardice,  and  poor  descent ; 
Three  things  that  women  highly  hold  in  hate. 

Duke.  Ay,  but  she'll  think,  that  it  is  spoke  in 
hate. 

Pro.  Ay,  if  his  enemy  deliver  it : 
Therefore  it  must,  with  circumstance,3  be  spoken 
By  one,  whom  she  esteemeth  as  his  friend. 

Duke.  Then  you  must  undertake  to  slander  him, 

Pro.  And  that,  my  lord,  I  shall  be  loth  to  do ; 
'Tis  an  ill  office  for  a  gentleman  5 
Especially,  against  his  very  friend.4 

Duke.  Where  your  good  word  cannot  advantage 
him, 
Your  slander  never  can  endamage  him  ; 
Therefore  the  office  is  indifferent, 
Being  entreated  to  it  by  your  friend. 

Pro.  You  have  prevail'd,  my  lord:  if  I  can  do  it, 
By  aught  that  I  can  speak  in  his  dispraise, 
She  shall  not  long  continue  love  to  him. 
But  say,  this  weed  her  love  from  Valentine, 
It  follows  not  that  she  will  love  sir  Thurio. 

Thu.  Therefore,  as  you  unwind  her  love5  from 
him, 

1 xvith  circumstance,'}  With  the  addition  of  such  incidental 

particulars  as  may  induce  belief.     Johnson. 

4 his  very/ ">  lend.]    Very  is  immediate.     So,  in  Macbeth: 

"  And  the  very  ports  they  blow."     Steevens. 

* as  you  unwind  her   love  — ]   As  you  wind  oft*  her  love 

from  him,  make  me  the  bottom  on  which  you  wind  it.  The 
housewife's  term  for  a  ball  of  thread  wound  upon  a  central  body, 
is  a  bottom  of  thread.     Johnson. 

So,  in  Grange's  Garden,  1557:  "  in  answer  to  a  letter  written 
unto  him  by  a  Curtyzan  :'' 

s  2 


260  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  in. 

Lest  it  should  ravel,  and  be  good  to  none, 
You  must  provide  to  bottom  it  on  me : 
Which  must  be  done,  by  praising  me  as  much 
As  you  in  worth  dispraise  sir  Valentine. 

Duke.  And,  Proteus,  we  dare  trust  you  in  this 
kind; 
Because  we  know,  on  Valentine's  report, 
You  are  already  love's  firm  votary, 
And  cannot  soon  revolt  and  change  your  mind. 
Upon  this  warrant  shall  you  have  access, 
Where  you  with  Silvia  may  confer  at  large ; 
For  she  is  lumpish,  heavy,  melancholy, 
And,  for  your  friend's  sake,  will  be  glad  of  you  j 
Where  you  may  temper  her,6  by  your  persuasion, 
To  hate  young  Valentine,  and  love  my  friend. 

Pro.  As  much  as  I  can  do,  I  will  effect : — 
But  you,  sir  Thurio,  are  not  sharp  enough ; 
You  must  lay  lime,7  to  tangle  her  desires, 
By  wailful  sonnets,  whose  composed  rhymes 
Should  be  full  fraught  with  serviceable  vows. 

Duke.  Ay,much  the  force  of  heaven-bred  poesy.8 

Pro.  Say,  that  upon  the  altar  of  her  beauty 
You  sacrifice  your  tears,  your  sighs,  your  heart : 
Write  till  your  ink  be  dry ;  and  with  your  tears 


"  A  hottome  for  your  silke  it  seems 

"  My  letters  are  become, 
"  Which  oft  with  winding  off  and  on 

"  Are  wasted  whole  and  some.*'     Steevens. 

6 you  may  temper  her,']  Mould  her,  like  wax,  to  what- 
ever shape  you  please.  So,  in  King  Henry  IV.  P.  II :  "I  have 
him  already  tempering  between  my  finger  and  my  thumb ;  and 
shortly  will  I  seal  with  him."     Malone. 

7 lime,']  That  is,  birdlime.  Johnson. 

8  Ay,  much  the  force  of  heaven-bred  poesy.]  The  old  copy 
reads : 

Ay,  much  is,  &c.     Ritson. 


sc.  n.  OF  VERONA.  261 

Moist  it  again  ;  and  frame  some  feeling  line, 

That  may  discover  such  integrity:^ — 

For  Orpheus' lute  was  strung  with  poets'  sinews;1 

Whose  golden  touch  could  soften  steel  and  stones, 

Make  tigers  tame,  and  huge  leviathans 

Forsake  unsounded  deeps  to  dance  on  sands. 

After  your  dire  lamenting  elegies, 

Visit  by  night  your  lady's  chamber-window, 

With  some  sweet  concert  :2  to  their  instruments 


9 such  integrity:']  Such  integrity  may  mean  such  ardour 

and  sincerity  as  would  be  manifested  by  practising  the  directions 
given  in  the  four  preceding  lines.     Steevens. 

I  suspect  that  a  line  following  this  has  been  lost ;  the  import 
of  which  perhaps  was — 

"  As  her  obdurate  heart  may  penetrate."     Malone. 

1  For  Orpheus1  lute  teas  strung  with  poets'  sinews ;]  This 
shews  Shakspeare's  knowledge  of  antiquity.  He  here  assigns 
Orpheus  his  true  character  of  legislator.  For  under  that  of  a 
poet  only,  or  lover,  the  quality  given  to  his  lute  is  unintelligible. 
But,  considered  as  a  lawgiver,  the  thought  is  noble,  and  the 
imagery  exquisitely  beautiful.  For  by  his  lute,  is  to  be  under- 
stood his  system  of  lavas ;  and  by  the  poet's  sineivs,  the  power 
of  numbers,  which  Orpheus  actually  employed  in  those  laws  to 
make  them  received  by  a  fierce  and  barbarous  people. 

Warburton. 

Proteus  is  describing  to  Thurio  the  powers  of  poetry ;  and 
gives  no  quality  to  the  lute  of  Orpheus,  but  those  usually  and 
vulgarly  ascribed  to  it.  It  would  be  strange  indeed  if,  in  order 
to  prevail  upon  the  ignorant  and  stupid  Thurio  to  write  a  sonnet 
to  his  mistress,  he  should  enlarge  upon  the  legislative  powers  of 
Orpheus,  which  were  nothing  to  the  purpose.  Warbur ton's  ob- 
Mivations  frequently  tend  to  prove  Shakspeare  more  profound 
and  learned  than  the  occasion  required,  and  to  make  the  Poet  of 
Nature  the  most  unnatural  that  ever  wrote.     M.  Masox. 


*  tvith  some  su-cet  concert :]   The  old  copy  has  consort, 

which  I  once  thought  might  have  meant  in  our  author's  time  a 
band  or  company  of  musicians.     So,  in  Romeo  and  Juliet: 
"  Tyb.  Mercutio,  thou  consort' si  with  Romeo. 
"  Mer.  Consort.'  what,  dost  thou  make  us  minstrels?" 
The  subsequent  words,  "  To  their  instruments—-,"  seem  to 


262 


TWO  GENTLEMEN 


ACT  JIT, 


Tune  a  deploring  dump  ;3  the  night's  dead  silence 

favour  this  interpretation  ;  but  other  instances,  that  I  have  since 
met  with,  in  books  of  our  author's  age,  have  convinced  me  that 
consort  was  only  the  old  spelling  of  concert,  and  I  have  accord- 
ingly printed  the  latter  word  in  the  text.  The  epithet  sxveet  an- 
nexed to  it,  seems  better  adapted  to  the  musick  itself  than  to  the 
band.  Consort,  when  accented  on  the  first  syllable,  (as  here) 
had,  I  believe,  the  former  meaning ;  when  on  the  second,  it 
signified  a  company.     So,  in  the  next  scene  : 

"  What  say  st  thou?  Wilt  thou  be  of  our  consort?" 

Malone. 

3  Tune  a  deploring  dump  •]  A  dump  was  the  ancient  term  for 
a  mournful  elegy. 

A  DOMPE  OF  THE  SIXTEENTH  CENTURY. 


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sc.  n. 


OF  VERONA. 


263 


Will  well  be  come  such  sweet  complaininggrievance. 
This,  or  else  nothing,  will  inherit  her.4 


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For  this  curiosity  the  reader  is  indebted  to  Stafford  Smith, 
Esq.  of  his  Majesty's  Chapel  Royal.     Steevens. 

4  will  inherit  her.']  To  inherit,  is,  by  our  author,  some- 
times used,  as  in  this  instance,  for  to  obtain  possession  of,  with- 
out any  idea  of  acquiring  by  inheritance.  So,  in  Titus  An- 
dronicus  : 

"  He  that  had  wit,  would  think  that  I  had  none, 
"  To  bury  so  much  gold  under  ;i  tree, 
"  And  never  after  to  inherit  it." 
This  sense  of  the  word  was  not  wholly  disused  in  the  time  of 


264  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  if. 

Duke.  This  discipline  shows  thou  hast  been  in 
love. 

Thu.  And  thy  advice  this  night  I'll  put  in  practice : 
Therefore,  sweet  Proteus,  my  direction-giver, 
Let  us  into  the  city  presently 
To  sort5  some  gentlemen  well  skill' d  in  musick : 
I  have  a  sonnet,  that  will  serve  the  turn, 
To  give  the  onset  to  thy  good  advice. 

Duke.  About  it,  gentlemen. 

Pro.  We'll  wait  upon  your  grace  till  after  supper : 
And  afterward  determine  our  proceedings. 

Duke,  Even  now  about  it  ;  I  will  pardon  you.6 

\_Exeunt, 


ACT  IV.    SCENE  I. 

A  Forest,  near   Mantua. 

Enter  certain  Out-laws. 

1  Out.  Fellows,  stand  fast ;  I  see  a  passenger. 

2  Out.  If  there  be  ten,  shrink  not,  but  down 

with  'em. 

Enter  Valentine  and  Speed. 

3  Out.  Stand,  sir,  and  throw  us  that  you  have 

about  you ; 

Milton,  who  in  his  Comus  has — "  disinherit  Chaos," — meaning 
only,  dispossess  it.     Steevens. 

5  To  sort  — ]  i.  e.  to  choose  out.     So,  in  K.  Richard  III  : 
"  Yet  I  will  sort  a  pitchy  hour  for  thee."     Steevens. 

1  "will  pardon  yon.~]  I  will  excuse  you  from  waiting. 

Johnson. 


sc.  i.  OF  VERONA.  265 


7 


If  not,  we'll  make  you  sit,  and  rifle  you.7 

Speed.  Sir,  we  are  undone  !  these  are  the  villains 
That  all  the  travellers  do  fear  so  much. 

Val.  My  friends, — 

1  Out.  That's  not  so,  sir;  we  are  your  enemies. 

2  Out.  Peace  ;  we'll  hear  him. 

3  Out.  Ay,  by  my  beard,  will  we  j 
For  he's  a  proper  man.8 

Val.  Then  know, that  I  have  little  wealth  to  lose ; 
A  man  I  am,  cross'd  with  adversity: 
My  riches  are  these  poor  habiliments, 
Of  which  if  you  should  here  disfurnish  me, 
You  take  the  sum  and  substance  that  I  have. 

2  Out.  Whither  travel  you  ? 
Val.  To  Verona. 

1  Out.  Whence  came  you  ? 
Val.  From  Milan. 

3  Out.  Have  you  long  sojourn'd  there  ? 

Val.  Some  sixteen  months ;  and  longer  might 
have  staid, 
If  crooked  fortune  had  not  thwarted  me. 

1  Out.  What,  were  you  banish'd  thence? 

7  If  not,  we'll  make  you  sit,  and  rifle  i/ouJ]  The  old  cop)r  reads 
-  I  have  printed  the  passage.    Paltry  as  the  opposition  between 
stand  and  sit  may  he  thought,  it  is  Shakspeare's  own.     My  pre- 
decessors read — "  we'll  make  you,  sir"  &c.     Steevens. 

Sir,  is  the  corrupt  reading  of  the  third  folio.     Malone. 

a  proper  man.]  i.  e.  a  well-looking  man  ;  he  has  the  ap- 


pearance of  ;i  gentleman.     So,  afterwards  : 

"  And  partly,  seeing  you  are  beautified 
"  With  goodly  shape ."     Malone. 

Again,  in  Othello: 

"  This  Ludovico  is  a  proper  man."    Steevens. 


266  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  ir. 

Val.  I  was. 

2  Out.  For  what  offence  ? 

Val.Yot  that  which  nowtorments  me  to  rehearse: 
I  kilPd  a  man,  whose  death  I  much  repent ; 
But  yet  I  slew  him  manfully  in  fight, 
Without  false  vantage,  or  base  treachery. 

1  Out.  Why  ne'er  repent  it,  if  it  were  done  so: 
But  were  you  banish'd  for  so  small  a  fault  ? 

Val.  I  was,  and  held  me  glad  of  such  a  doom. 

1  Out.  Have  you  the  tongues  ? 

Val.  My  youthful  travel  therein  made  me  happy; 
Or  else  I  often  had  been  miserable. 

3  Out.  By  the  bare  scalp  of  Robin  Hood's  fat 

friar,9 


9 Robin  Hood's  fat  fria  r,~]  Robin  Hood  was  captain  of  a 

band  of  robbers,  and  was  much  inclined  to  rob  churchmen. 

Johnson. 

So,  in  A  mery  Geste  of  Robin  Hoode,  &c.  bl.  1.  no  date : 

"  These  byshoppes  and  these  archebyshoppes 

"  Ye  shall  them  beate  and  bynde,"  &c. 
But  by  Robin  Hood's  fat  friar,  I  believe,  Shakspeare  means 
Friar  Tuck,  who  was  confessor  and  companion  to  this  noted  out- 
law.    So,  in  one  of  the  old  songs  of  Robin  Hood: 

"  And  of  brave  little  John, 

"  Of  Friar  Tuck  and  Will  Scarlett, 

"  Stokesly  and  Maid  Marian." 
Again,  in  the  26th  song  of  Drayton's  Polyolbion : 

"  Of  Tuck  the  merry  friar  which  many  a  sermon  made, 

"  In  praise  of  Robin  Hoode,  his  out-lawes,  and  his  trade.'* 
Again,  in  Skelton's  Play  of  Magnificence,  f.  5.  6 : 

"  Another  bade  shave  halfe  my  berde, 

"  And  boyes  to  the  pylery  gan  me  plucke, 

"  And  wolde  have  made  me  freer  Tucke 

"  To  preche  oute  of  the  pylery  hole." 
See  figure  III.  in  the  plate  at  the  end  of  the  first  part  of  King 
Henry  IV.  with  Mr.  Toilet's  observations  on  it.     Steevens. 

Dr.  Johnson  seems  to  have  misunderstood  this  passage.     The 
speaker  does  not  swear  by  the  scalp  of  some  churchman  who  had 


sc.  i.  OF  VERONA.  267 

This  fellow  were  a  king  for  our  wild  faction. 

1  Out.  We'll  have  him  :  sirs,  a  word. 

Speed.  Master,  be  one  of  them; 

It  is  an  honourable  kind  of  thievery. 

Val.  Peace,  villain ! 

2  Out.  Tell  us  this :  Have  you  any  thing  to 

take  to  ? 

Val.  Nothing,  but  my  fortune. 

3  Out.  Knowthen,  that  some  of  us  aregentlemen, 
Such  as  the  fury  of  ungovern'd  youth 

Thrust  from  the  company  of  awful  men : l 
Myself  was  from  Verona  banished, 
For  practising  to  steal  away  a  lady, 
An  heir,  and  near  allied  unto  the  duke.2 


been  plundered,  but  by  tbe  shaven  crown  of  Robin  Hood's 
chaplain. — "  W  e  will  live  and  die  together,  (says  a  personage  in 
Peele's  Edward  I.  1~9',)  like  Robin  Hood,  little  John,  friar 
Tucke,  and  Maide  Marian."     Malone. 

1 awful  men  .•]  Reverend,  worshipful,  such  as  magistrates, 

and  other  principal  members  of  civil  communities.     Johnson. 

Awful  is  used  by  Shakspeare,  in  another  place,  in  the  sense  of 
lavcfid.     Second  part  of  A'.  Henry  IV.  Act  IV.  sc.  ii : 

"  We  come  within  our  axvful  banks  again."     Tyrwhitt. 

So,  in  King  Ilcnry  V.  l'JOO: 

"  creatures  that  by  awe  ordain 

"  An  act  of  order  to  a  peopled  kingdom."     Malone. 

I  believe  we  should  read — lawful  men — i.  e.  legale*  homines. 
So,  in  The  A'eive  Bake  of  Justices,  1560:  " — commandinge 
him  to  the  same  to  make  an  inquest  and  pannel  of  I  axvful  men  of 
his  countie."     Tor  this  remark  I  am  indebted  to  Dr.  Farmer. 

Steevens. 

Axvful  men  means  men  xvcll  governed,  observant  of  law  and 
authority  ;  full  of  or  subject  to  aive.  In  the  same  kind  of  sense 
as  we  usefearfuL     Ritson. 

4  An  heir,  and  near  allied  unto  the  duke.]  All  the  impressions, 
from  the  first  downwards,  read — An  heir  and  niece  allied  unto 
ihe  duke.     Rut  our  poet  would  never  have  expressed  himself  so 


268  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  ir. 

2  Out.  And  I  from  Mantua,  for  a  gentleman, 
Whom,  in  my  mood,  I  stabb'd  unto  the  hearts) 

1  Out.  And  I,  for  such  like  petty  crimes  as  these. 
But  to  the  purpose, — (for  we  cite  our  faults, 
That  they  may  hold  excus'd  our  lawless  lives,) 
And,  partly,  seeing  you  are  beautified 

With  goodly  shape  ;  and  by  your  own  report 
A  linguist ;  and  a  man  of  such  perfection, 
As  we  do  in  our  quality 4  much  want ; — 

2  Out.  Indeed,  because  you  are  a  banish'd  man, 
Therefore,  above  the  rest,  we  parley  to  you : 
Are  you  content  to  be  our  general  ? 


stupidly,  as  to  tell  us,  this  lady  was  the  duke's  niece,  and  allied 
to  him :  for  her  alliance  was  certainly  sufficiently  included  in 
the  first  term.  Our  author  meant  to  say,  she  was  an  heiress, 
and  near  allied  to  the  duke  ;  an  expression  the  most  natural  that 
can  be  for  the  purpose,  and  very  frequently  used  by  the  stage- 
poets.     Theobald. 

A  niece,  or  a  nephew,  did  not  always  signify  the  daughter  of 
a  brother  or  sister,  but  any  remote  descendant.  Of  this  use  I 
have  given  instances,  as  to  a  nephew.  See  Othello,  Act  I.  I  have 
not,  however,  disturbed  Theobald's  emendation.     Steevens. 

Heir  in  our  author's  time  (as  it  sometimes  is  now)  was  applied 
to  females,  as  well  as  males.  The  old  copy  reads — And  heir. 
The  correction  was  made  in  the  third  folio.     Malone. 

3  Whom,  in  my  mood,  I  stabb'd  unto  the  heart.']  Thus,  Dryden : 

"  Madness  laughing  in  his  ireful  mood.'''' 
Again,  Gray : 

"  Moody  madness,  laughing,  wild."     Henley. 

Mood  is  anger  or  resentment.     Malone. 

4  in  our  quality  — ]  Our  quality  means  our  profession, 

calling,  or  condition  of  life.  Thus,  in  Massinger's  Roman  Actor, 
Aretinus  says  to  Paris  the  tragedian : 

"  In  thee,  as  being  chief  of  thy  profession, 
"  1  do  accuse  the  quality  of  treason  :" 
that  is,  the  whole  profession  or  fraternity. 

Hamlet,  speaking  of  the  young  players,  says,  "  will  they  pur- 
sue the  quality  no  longer  than  they  can  sing?"  &c.  &c. 

M.  Mason. 


sc.  ii.  OF  VERONA.  269 

To  make  a  virtue  of  necessity, 

And  live,  as  we  do,  in  this  wilderness  ? 

3  Out.  What  say'st  thou  ?  wilt  thou  be  of  our 
consort  ? 
Say,  ay,  and  be  the  captain  of  us  all : 
We'll  do  thee  homage,  and  be  rul'd  by  thee, 
Love  thee  as  our  commander,  and  our  king. 

1  Out.  But  if  thou  scorn  our  courtesy,  thou  diest. 

2  Out.  Thou  shalt  not  live  to  brag  what  we 

have  offer'd. 

Val.  I  take  your  offer,  and  will  live  with  you ; 
Provided  that  you  do  no  outrages 
On  silly  women,  or  poor  passengers.5 

3  Out.  No,  we  detest  such  vile  base  practices. 
Come,  go  with  us,  we'll  bring  thee  to  our  crews, 
And  shew  thee  all  the  treasure  we  have  got ; 
Which,  with  ourselves,  all  rest  at  thy  dispose. 

[Exeunt. 


SCENE  II. 

Milan.     Court  of  the  Palace. 

Enter  Proteus. 

Pro.  Already  have  I  been  false  to  Valentine, 
And  now  I  must  be  as  unjust  to  Thurio. 
Under  the  colour  of  commending  him, 
I  have  access  my  own  love  to  prefer ; 
But  Silvia  is  too  fair,  too  true,  too  holy, 
To  be  corrupted  with  my  worthless  gilts. 

•vo  outrages 


On  silly  women,  or  poor  passengers.']     This  was  one  of  the 
s  of  Robin  Hood's  government.     Steevens. 


270  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  m 

When  I  protest  true  loyalty  to  her, 
She  twits  me  with  my  falshood  to  my  friend ; 
When  to  her  beauty  I  commend  my  vows, 
She  bids  me  think,  how  I  have  been  forsworn 
In  breaking  faith  with  Julia  whom  I  lov'd  : 
And,  notwithstanding  all  her  sudden  quips,6 
The  least  whereof  would  quell  a  lover's  hope, 
Yet,  spaniel-like,  the  more  she  spurns  my  love, 
The  more  it  grows,  and  fawneth  on  her  still. 
But  here  comes Thurio:  now  mustwetoherwindow, 
And  give  some  evening  musick  to  her  ear. 

Enter  Thurio,  and  Musicians. 

Thu.  How  now,  sir  Proteus  ?  are  you  crept  be- 
fore us  ? 

Pro.  Ay,  gentle  Thurio ;  for,  you  know,  that 
love 
Will  creep  in  service  where  it  cannot  go.7 

Thu.  Ay,  but,  I  hope,  sir,  that  you  love  not  here. 

Pro.  Sir,  but  I  do  ;  or  else  I  would  be  hence. 

Thu.  Whom?  Silvia? 

Pro.  Ay,  Silvia, — for  your  sake. 

Thu.  I  thank  you  for  your  own.  Now,  gentlemen. 
Let's  tune,  and  to  it  lustily  a  while. 


sudden  quips,"]    That  is,  hasty  passionate  reproaches 


and  scoffs.  So  Macbeth  is  in  a  kindred  sense  said  to  be  sudden  ; 
that  is,  irascible  and  impetuous.     Johnson. 

The  same  expression  is  used  by  Dr.  Wilson  in  his  Arte  of 
Rhetorique,  1553 :  "  And  make  him  at  his  wit's  end  through 
the  sudden  quip."     Malone. 

7  you  knoiv,  that  love 

Will  creep  in  service  where  it  cannot  go.~\  Kindness  will 
creep  where  it  cannot  gang,  is  to  be  found  in  Kelly's  Collection 
of  Scottish  Proverbs,  p.  220.     Reed. 


sc.  n.  OF  VERONA.  271 

Enter  Host,  at  a  distance  ;  and  Julia  in  boy's 

clothes. 

Host.  Now,  my  young  guest !  methinks  you're 
allycholly  ;   I  pray  you,  why  is  it  ? 

Jul,  Marry, mine host,because  I cannotbe merry. 

Host.  Come,  we'll  have  you  merry :  I'll  bring 
you  where  you  shall  hear  musick,  and  see  the  gen- 
tleman that  you  ask'd  for. 

Jul.  But  shall  I  hear  him  speak  ? 

Host.  Ay,  that  you  shall. 

Jul.  That  will  be  musick.  [Music Jc  plays. 

Host.  Hark  !  hark ! 

Jul.  Is  he  among  these  ? 

Host.  Ay  :  but  peace,  let's  hear  'em. 

SONG. 

Who  is  Silvia  ?  what  is  she, 

That  all  our  swains  commend  her  ? 

Holy,  fair,  and  wise  is  she  ; 

The  heavens  such  grace  did  lend  her* 

That  she  might  admired  be. 

Is  she  kind,  as  she  is  fair  ? 

For  beauty  lives  with  kindness : 
Love  doth  to  her  eyes  repair, 

To  help  him  if  his  blindness  ; 
And,  being  helped,  inhabits  there. 

Who  is  Silvia  f  tvhat  is  she,  &c. 


The  heavens  such  grace  did  lend  her,]  So,  in  Pericles; 
"  80  buxom,  blithe,  and  full  of  face, 
"  As  heaven  had  lent  her  all  his  grace."     Douce. 

9  beauty  lives  win  kindness  .•]     lk'uuty  without  kindness 

die;  unenjoyed,  and  underlighting.     Johnson. 


272  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  iv. 

Then  to  Silvia  let  us  sing, 

That  Silvia  is  excelling  ; 
She  excels  each  mortal  thing, 

Upon  the  dull  earth  dwelling : 
To  her  let  us  garlands  bring. 

Host.  How  now  ?  are  you  sadder  than  you  were 
before  ? 
How  do  you,  man  ?  the  musick  likes  you  not. 

Jul.  You  mistake ;  the  musician  likes  me  not. 

Host.  Why,  my  pretty  youth  ? 

Jul.  He  plays  false,  father. 

Host.  How  ?  out  of  tune  on  the  strings  ? 

Jul.  Not  so ;  but  yet  so  false  that  he  grieves 
my  very  heart-strings. 

Host.  You  have  a  quick  ear. 

Jul.  Ay,  I  would  I  were  deaf!  it  makes  me  have 
a  slow  heart. 

Host.  I  perceive,  you  delight  not  in  musick. 

Jul.  Not  a  whit,  when  it  jars  so. 

Host.  Hark,  what  fine  change  is  in  the  musick ! 

Jul.  Ay ;  that  change  is  the  spite. 

Host.  You  would  have  them  always  play  but 
one  thing  ? 

Jul,  I  would  always  have  one  play  but  one 
thing.  But,  host,  doth  this  sir  Proteus,  that  we 
talk  on,  often  resort  unto  this  gentlewoman  ? 

Host.  I  tell  you  what  Launce,  his  man,  told 
me,  he  loved  her  out  of  all  nick.1 

1  out  of  all  nick.]     Beyond  all   reckoning  or  count. 

Reckonings  are  kept  upon  nicked  or  notched  sticks  or  tallies. 

Warburton. 


sc.  n.  OF  VERONA.  273 

Jul.  Where  is  Launce  ? 

Host.  Gone  to  seek  his  dog ;  which,  to-morrow, 
by  his  master's  command,  he  must  carry  for  a  pre- 
sent to  his  lady. 

Jul.  Peace  !  stand  aside !  the  company  parts. 

Pro.  Sir  Thurio,  fear  not  you !  I  will  so  plead, 
That  you  shall  say,  my  cunning  drift  excels. 

Tiiu.  Where  meet  we? 

Pro.  At  saint  Gregory's  well. 

Tiiu.  Farewell.  \TLoceunt Thurio  and  Musicians. 

Silvia  appears  above,  at  her  window. 

Pro.  Madam,  good  even  to  your  ladyship. 

Sil.  I  thank  you  for  your  musick,  gentlemen  : 
Who  is  that,  that  spake  ? 

Pro.  One,  lady,  if  you  knewhis  pure  heart's  truth, 
You'd  quickly  learn  to  know  him  by  his  voice. 

Sil.  Sir  Proteus,  as  I  take  it. 

Pro.  Sir  Proteus,  gentle  lady,  and  your  servant. 

Sil.  What  is  your  will  ? 

Pro.  That  I  may  compass  yours. 

Sil.  You  have  your  wish ;  my  will  is  even  this,2 — 
That  presently  you  hie  you  home  to  bed. 


So,  in  A  Woman  never  vex'd,  10*32 : 

" I  have  carried 

"  The  tallies  at  my  girdle  seven  years  together, 
**  For  I  did  ever  love  to  deal  honestly  in  the  nick." 
As  it  is  an  inn-keeper  who  employs  the  allusion,  it  is  much  in 
character.     Steevens. 

*  You  have  your  tuish  ;  my  will  is  even  this,']  The  word  tvill  is 
here  ambiguous.  lie  wishes  to  gain  her  prill:  she  tells  him,  it' 
he  wants  her  will  ho  has  it.     Johnson. 

VOL.  IV.  T 


274  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  in 

Thou  subtle,  perjur'd,  false,  disloyal  man ! 
Think'st  thou,  I  am  so  shallow,  so  conceitless, 
To  be  seduced  by  thy  flattery, 
That  hast  deceiv'd  so  many  with  thy  vows  ? 
Return,  return,  and  make  thy  love  amends. 
For  me, — by  this  pale  queen  of  night  I  swear, 
I  am  so  far  from  granting  thy  request, 
That  I  despise  thee  for  thy  wrongful  suit ; 
And  by  and  by  intend  to  chide  myself, 
Even  for  this  time  I  spend  in  talking  to  thee. 

Pro.  I  grant,  sweet  love,  that  I  did  love  a  lady ; 
But  she  is  dead. 

Jul.  'Twere  false,  if  I  should  speak  it; 
For,  I  am  sure,  she  is  not  buried.  [Aside. 

SlL.  Say,  that  she  be ;  yet  Valentine,  thy  friend, 
Survives ;  to  whom,  thyself  art  witness, 
I  am  betroth'd :  And  art  thou  not  asham'd 
To  wrong  him  with  thy  importunacy. 

Pro.  I  likewise  hear,  that  Valentine  is  dead. 

SlL.  And  so,  suppose,  am  I ;  for  in  his  grave 3 
Assure  thyself,  my  love  is  buried. 

Pro.  Sweet  lady,  let  me  rake  it  from  the  earth. 

SlL.  Go  to  thy  lady's  grave,  and  call  her's  thence ; 
Or,  at  the  least,  in  her's  sepulchre  thine. 

Jul.  He  heard  not  that.  [Aside. 

Pro.  Madam,  if  your  heart  be  so  obdurate, 
Vouchsafe  me  yet  your  picture  for  my  love, 
The  picture  that  is  hanging  in  your  chamber ; 
To  that  I'll  speak,  to  that  I'll  sigh  and  weep: 
For,  since  the  substance  of  your  perfect  self 


8 in  his  grave — ]  The  old  copy  has — her  grave.     The 

emendation  was  made  by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio. 

Malone. 


m.  //.  OF  VERONA.  275 

Is  else  devoted,  I  am  but  a  shadow  ; 

And  to  your  shadow  I  will  make  true  love. 

Jul.  If  'twere  a  substance,  you  would,  sure,  de- 
ceive it, 
And  make  it  but  a  shadow,  as  I  am.  \_Aslde. 

Sil.  I  am  very  loth  to  be  your  idol,  sir ; . 
But,  since  your  falshood  shall  become  you  well* 
To  worship  shadows,  and  adore  false  shapes, 
Send  to  me  in  the  morning,  and  I'll  send  it : 
And  so,  good  rest. 

4  But,  since  your  falshood  shall  become  you  well — ]  This  is 
hardly  sense.     We  may  read,  with  very  little  alteration  : 

"  But  since  you  re  false,  it  shall  become  you  well." 

Johnson. 
There  is  no  occasion  for  any  alteration,  if  we  only  suppose 
that  it  is  understood  here,  as  in  several  other  places: 

"  But,  since  your  falshood,  shall  become  you  well 
"  To  worship  shadows  and  adore  false  shapes," 
i.  e.  But,  since  your  falshood,  it  shall  become  you  well,  &c. 

Or  indeed,  in  this  place,  To  worship  shadows,  &c.  may  be  con- 
sidered as  the  nominative  case  to  shall  become.     Tyrwhitt. 

"  I  am  very  loth  (says  Silvia)  to  be  your  idol ;  but  since  your 
falshood  to  your  friend  and  mistress  shall  well  become  you,  to 
worship  shadows,  and  adore  false  shapes  (i.e.  will  be  properly 
employed  in  so  doing, )  send  to  me,  and  you  shall  have  my  pic- 
ture."     RlTSON. 

I  once  had  a  better  opinion  of  the  alteration  proposed  by  Dr. 
Johnson  than  I  have  at  present.  I  now  believe  the  text  is  right, 
and  that  our  author  means,  however  licentious  the  expression, — 
But,  since  your  falshood  well  becomes,  or  is  well  suited  to,  the 
worshipping  of  shadows,  and  the  adoring  of  false  shapes,  send  to 
me  in  the  morning  for  my  picture,  &c.  Or,  in  other  words, 
But,  since  the  worshipping  of  shadows  and  the  adoring  of  false 
shapes  dial]  well  become  you,  false  as  ami  arc,  send,  &C.  To 
worship  shadow,  &c.  I  consider  as  the  objective  case,  as  well  as 
you.  There  are  other  instances  in  these  plays  of  a  double  accu- 
sative depending  on  the  same  verb.  I  have  therefore  followed 
the  punctuation  of  the  old  copy,  and  not  placed  a  comma  after 
falshood,  as  in  the  modern  editions.  Since  is,  I  think,  here  an 
adverb,  not  a  preposition.     Malone. 

T  2 


276  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  jr. 

Pro.  As  wretches  have  o'er-night, 

That  wait  for  execution  in  the  morn. 

[Exeunt  Proteus  ;  and  Silvia,  from  above. 

Jul.  Host,  will  you  go  ? 

Host.  By  my  hallidom,  I  was  fast  asleep. 

Jul.  Pray  you,  where  lies  sir  Proteus  ? 

Host.  Marry,  at  my  house :  Trust  me,  I  think, 
'tis  almost  day. 

Jul.  Not  so ;  but  it  hath  been  the  longest  night 
That  e'er  I  watch'd,  and  the  most  heaviest.5 

[Exeunt. 

SCENE  III. 

The  same. 

Enter  Eglamour. 

Egl.  This  is  the  hour  that  madam  Silvia 
Entreated  me  to  call,  and  know  her  mind ; 
There's  some  great  matter  she'd  employ  me  in. — 
Madam,  madam ! 

Silvia  appears  above,  at  her  window. 

Sil.  Who  calls  ? 

Egl.  Your  servant,  and  your  friend ; 

One  that  attends  your  ladyship's  command. 
Sil.  Sir  Eglamour,  a  thousand  times  good  mor- 
row. 


*  most  heaviest.']  This  use  of  the  double  superlative  is  fre- 
quent in  our  author.     So,  in  King  Lear,  Act.  II.  sc.  iii : 
"  To  take  the  basest  and  most  poorest  shape." 

Steevens. 


sc.  in.  OF  VERONA.  277 

Egl.  As  many,  worthy  lady,  to  yourself. 
According  to  your  ladyship's  impose,6 
I  am  thus  early  come,  to  know  what  service 
It  is  your  pleasure  to  command  me  in. 

Sil.  O  Eglamour,  thou  art  a  gentleman, 
(Think  not,  I  flatter,  for,  I  swear,  I  do  not,) 
Valiant,  wise,  remorseful,7  well  accomplished. 
Thou  art  not  ignorant,  what  dear  good  will 
I  bear  unto  the  banish* d  Valentine  ; 
Nor  how  my  father  would  enforce  me  marry 
Vain  Thurio,  whom  my  very  soul  abhorr'd. 
Thyself  hast  loved ;  and  I  have  heard  thee  say, 
No  grief  did  ever  come  so  near  thy  heart, 
As  when  thy  lady  and  thy  true  love  died, 
Upon  whose  grave  thou  vow'dst  pure  chastity.8 


6  your  ladyship's  impose,]  Impose  is  injunction,  command. 

A  task  set  at  college,  in  consequence  of  a  fault,  is  still  called  an 
imposition.     Steevens. 

7  remorseful,]  Remorseful  is  pitiful.     So,  in  The  Maids 

Metamorphosis,  by  Lyly,  1(500  : 

"  Provokes  my  mind  to  take  remorse  of  thee." 
Again,  in  Chapman's  translation  of  the  2d  book  of  Homer's 
Iliad,  1598 : 

"  Descend  on  ourlong-toyled  host  with  thy  reynorsefuleye." 
Again,  in  the  same  translator's  version  of  the  20th  Iliad: 

" he  was  none  of  those  remorsefull  men, 

Gentle  and  affable;  but  fierce  at  all  times,  and  mad  then." 

Steevens. 

*  Upon  whose  grave  thou  voivdst  pure  chastity.]  It  was  com- 
mon in  former  ages  for  widowers  and  widows  to  make  vows  of 
chastity  in  honour  of  their  deceased  wives  or  husbands.  In 
Dugdale's  Antiquities  of  Warwickshire,  page  1013,  there  is  the 
form  of  a  commission  by  the  bishop  of  the  diocese  for  taking  a 
vow  of  chastity  made  by  a  widow.  It  seems  that,  besides  ob- 
serving the  vow,  the  widow  was,  for  life,  to  wear  a  veil  and  a 
mourning  habit.  Some  such  distinction  we  may  suppose  to  have 
been  made  in  respect  of  male  votarists;  and  therefore  this  cir- 
cumstance might  inform  the  players  how  Sir  Eglamour  should  be 


2TS  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  iv. 

Sir  Eglamour,  I  would  to  Valentine, 

To  Mantua,  where,  I  hear,  he  makes  abode  ; 

And,  for  the  ways  are  dangerous  to  pass, 

I  do  desire  thy  worthy  company, 

Upon  whose  faith  and  honour  I  repose. 

Urge  not  my  father's  anger,  Eglamour, 

But  think  upon  my  grief,  a  lady's  grief; 

And  on  the  justice  of  my  flying  hence, 

To  keep  me  from  a  most  unholy  match, 

Which  heaven  and  fortune  still  reward  with  plagues. 

I  do  desire  thee,  even  from  a  heart 

As  full  of  sorrows  as  the  sea  of  sands, 

To  bear  me  company,  and  go  with  me : 

If  not,  to  hide  what  I  have  said  to  thee, 

That  I  may  venture  to  depart  alone. 

Egl.  Madam,  I  pity  much  your  grievances;9 
Which  since  I  know  they  virtuously  are  plac'd, 
I  give  consent  to  go  along  with  you ; 
Recking  as  little I  what  betideth  me, 
As  much  I  wish  all  good  befortune  you. 
When  will  you  go  ? 

Sil.  This  evening  coming. 

Egl.  Where  shall  I  meet  you  ? 

Sil.  At  friar  Patrick's  cell, 

Where  I  intend  holy  confession. 


drest ;  and  will  account  for  Silvia's  having  chosen  him  as  a  person 
in  whom  she  could  confide  without  injury  to  her  own  character. 

Steevens. 

9  grievances  ;]  Sorrows,  sorrowful  affections. 

Johnson. 


1  Recking  as  little  — ]  To  reck  is  to  care  for.   So,  in  Hamlet : 

"  And  recks  not  his  own  read." 
Both  Chaucer  and  Spenser  use  this  word  with  the  same  signi- 
fication.    Steevens. 


sc.  iv.  OF  VERONA.  279 

Egl.  I  will  not  fail  your  ladyship  : 
Good-morrow,  gentle  lady. 

SiL.  Good-morrow,  kind  sir  Eglamour. 

[Exeunt. 


SCENE  IV. 

The  same. 

Enter  Launce,  with  his  dog. 

When  a  man's  servant  shall  play  the  curwith  him, 
look  you,  it  goes  hard :  one  that  I  brought  up  of  a 
puppy;  one  that  I  saved  from  drowning, when  three 
or  four  of  his  blind  brothers  and  sisters  went  to  it !  I 
have  taught  him — even  as  one  would  say  precisely, 
Thus  I  would  teach  a  dog.  I  was  sent  to  deliver 
him,  as  a  present  to  mistress  Silvia,  from  my  master ; 
and  I  came  no  sooner  into  the  dining-chamber,  but 
he  steps  me  to  her  trencher,  and  steals  her  capon's 
leg.  O,  'tis  a  foul  thing  when  a  cur  cannot  keep 
himself2  in  all  companies!  I  would  have,  as  one 
should  say,  one  that  takes  upon  him  to  be  a  dog3 
indeed,  to  be,  as  it  were,  a  dog  at  all  things.  If 
I  had  not  had  more  wit  than  he,  to  take  a  fault  upon 
me  that  he  did,  I  think  verily  he  had  been  hanged 
for't ;  sure  as  I  live,  he  had  suffered  for't :  you  shall 
judge.  He  thrusts  me  himself  into  the  company  of 
three  or  four  gentlemen-like  dogs,  under  the  duke's 
table :  he  had  not  been  there  (bless  the  mark)  a 


*  keep  himself — ]  i.e.  restrain  himself.     Steevens. 

3 to  be  a  do<r — ]  I  believe  we  should  read — Tluouldhave, 

&c.  one  that  takes  upon  him  to  be  a  dog,  to  be  a  dog  indeed, to  bet 
kc.    Johnson. 


280  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  iv. 

pissing  while  ;4  but  all  the  chamber  smelt  him.  Out 
with  the  dog,  says  one ;  What  cur  is  that?  says  an- 
other; Whip  him  out,  says  the  third ;  Hang  him  up, 
says  the  duke.  I,  having  been  acquainted  with  the 
smell  before,  knew  it  was  Crab  ;  and  goes  me  to  the 
fellow  that  whips  the  dogs  :5  Friend,  quoth  I,  you 
mean  to  whip  the  dog  ?  Ay,  marry,  do  I,  quoth  he. 
You  do  him  the  more  wrong,  quoth  I ;  'twas  I  did 
the  thing  you  wot  of.  He  makes  me  no  more  ado, 
but  whips  me  out  of  the  chamber.  How  many  ma- 
sters would  do  this  for  their  servant?6  Nay,  Til  be 
sworn,  I  have  sat  in  the  stocks  for  puddings  he  hath 
stolen, otherwise  he  had  been  executed:  Ihavestood 
on  the  pillory  for  geese  he  hath  killed,  otherwise  he 
had  suffered  for't :  thou  think'st  not  of  this  now ! — 
Nay,  I  remember  the  trick  you  served  me,  when  I 
took  my  leave  of  madam  Silvia  j7  did  not  I  bid  thee 


* a  pissingwhile,]  This  expression  is  used  in  Ben  Jonson's 

Magnetic  Lady  :  "  — have  patience  but  &  pissing  ivhile."  It  ap- 
pears from  Ray's  Collection,  that  it  is  proverbial.     Steevens. 

s  Thefelloiv  that  whips  the  dogs  .•]  This  appears  to  have  been 
part  of  the  office  of  an  usher  of  the  table.     So,  in  Mucedorus: 

"  — I'll  prove  my  office  good:  for  look  you,  &c. — When  a  dog 
chance  to  blow  his  nose  backward,  then  with  a  tvhip  I  give  him 
good  time  of  the  day,  and  strew  rushes  presently." 

Steevens. 

6 their  servant?']  The  old  copy  reads — his  servant? 

Steevens. 
Corrected  by  Mr.  Pope.     M alone. 

7 madam  Silvia ;]    Perhaps  we   should  read    of  madam 

Julia.     It  was  Julia  only  of  whom  a  formal  leave  could  have 
been  taken.     Steevens. 

Dr.  Warburton,  without  any  necessity  I  think,  reads — Julia  ; 
"  alluding  to  the  leave  his  master  and  he  took  when  they  left 
Verona."  But  it  appears  from  a  former  scene,  (as  Mr.  Heath  has 
observed,)  that  Launce  was  not  present  when  Proteus  and  Julia 
parted.  Launce  on  the  other  hand  has  just  taken  leave  of,  i.e. 
parted  from,  (for  that  is  all  that  is  meant,)  madam  Silvia. 

Malone. 


sc.  iv.  OF  VERONA.  281 

still  mark  me,  and  do  as  I  do  ?  When  didst  thou 
see  me  heave  up  my  leg,  and  make  water  against 
a  gentlewoman's  farthingale  ?  didst  thou  ever  see 
me  do  such  a  trick  ? 

Enter  Proteus  and  Julia. 

Pro.  Sebastian  is  thy  name  ?  I  like  thee  well, 
And  will  employ  thee  in  some  service  presently. 

Jul.  In  what  you  please  ; — I  will  do  what  I  can. 

Pro.  I  hope,  thou  wilt. — How  now,  you  whore- 
son peasant?  \_To  Launce. 
Where  have  you  been  these  two  days  loitering  ? 

Laux.  Marry,  sir,  I  carried  mistress  Silvia  the 
dog  you  bade  me. 

Pro.  And  what  says  she,  to  my  little  jewel  ? 

Laux.  Marry,  she  says,  your  dog  was  a  cur ;  and 
tells  you,  currish  thanks  is  good  enough  for  such 
a  present. 

Pro.  But  she  received  my  dog  ? 

Laux.  No,  indeed,  she  did  not :  here  have  I 
brought  him  back  again. 

Pro.  What,  didst  thou  offer  her  this  from  me  ? 

Laux.  Ay,sir ;  the  other  squirrel8  was  stolen  from 

Though  Launce  was  not  present  when  Julia  and  Proteus  part- 
ed, it  by  no  means  follows  that  he  and  Crab  had  not  likewise  their 
audience  of  leave.     Ritson. 

8  the  other  squirrel  <!yc.]  Sir  T.  Hanmer  reads — "  the 

other,  Squirrel"  &c.  and  consequently  makes  Squirrel  the  pro- 
per name  of  the  beast.  Perhaps  Launce  only  speaks  of  it  as  a 
diminutive  animal,  more  resembling  a  squirrel  in  size,  than  a 


dog.     Steevens. 


»» 


The  subsequent  words, — "  who  is  a  dog  as  big  as  ten  of  yours 
shew  that  Mr.  Stcevens's  interpretation  is  the  true  one.  M alone. 


2S2  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  iv. 

me  by  the  hangman's  boys  in  the  market-place : 
and  then  I  offered  her  mine  own ;  who  is  a  dog  as 
big  as  ten  of  yours,  and  therefore  the  gift  the 
greater. 

Pro.  Go,  get  thee  hence,  and  find  my  dog  again. 
Or  ne'er  return  again  into  my  sight. 
Away,  I  say :  Stay'st  thou  to  vex  me  here  ? 
A  slave,  that,  still  an  end,9  turns  me  to  shame. 

\JLxit  Launce. 
Sebastian,  I  have  entertained  thee, 
Partly,  that  I  have  need  of  such  a  youth, 
That  can  with  some  discretion  do  my  business, 
For  'tis  no  trusting  to  yon  foolish  lowt ; 
But,  chiefly,  for  thy  face,  and  thy  behaviour ; 
"Which  (if  my  augury  deceive  me  not) 
Witness  good  bringing  up,  fortune,  and  truth  : 
Therefore  know  thou,1  for  this  I  entertain  thee. 
Go  presently,  and  take  this  ring  with  thee, 
Deliver  it  to  madam  Silvia : 
She  loved  me  well,  deliver'd  it  to  me.2 

Jul.  It  seems,  you  loved  her  not,  to  leave  her 
token:3 


9 an  end,]  i.  e.  in  the  end,  at  the  conclusion  of  every 

business  he  undertakes.     Steevens. 

Still  an  end,  and  most  an  end,  are  vulgar  expressions,  and 
mean  commonly,  generally.  So,  in  Massinger's  Very  Woman, 
a  Citizen  asks  the  Master,  who  had  slaves  to  sell,  "  What  will 
that  girl  do  ?"  To  which  he  replies : 

" sure  no  harm  at  all,  sir, 

"  For  she  sleeps  most  an  end."     M.  Mason. 

1 knotv  thou,]  The  old  copy  has — thee.  The  emendation 

was  made  by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio.     Malone. 

8  She  loved  me  well,  deliver'd  it  to  me.~]  i.  e.  She,  tvho  delivered 
it  to  me,  loved  me  well.     Malone. 

3  It  seems,  you  loved  her  not,  to  leave  her  token ;]  Proteus 


SC.  IV. 


OF  VERONA.  2S3 


She's  dead,  belike.4 

Pro.  Not  so ;  I  think,  she  lives. 

Jul.  Alas ! 

Pro.  Why  dost  thou  cry,  alas  ? 

Jul.  I  cannot  choose  but  pity  her. 

Pro.  Wherefore  should' st  thou  pity  her  ? 

Jul.  Because,  methinks,  that  she  loved  you  as 
well 
As  you  do  love  your  lady  Silvia  : 
She  dreams  on  him  that  has  forgot  her  love ; 
You  dote  on  her,  that  cares  not  for  your  love. 
'Tis  pity,  love  should  be  so  contrary ; 
And  thinking  on  it  makes  me  cry,  alas ! 

does  not  properly  leave  his  lady's  token,  he  gives  it  away.    The 
old  edition  has  it : 

It  seems  you  loved  her  not,  not  leave  her  token. 
I  should  correct  it  thus  : 

It  seems  you  loved  her  not,  nor  love  her  token. 

Johnson. 
The  emendation  was  made  in  the  second  folio.     Malone. 

Johnson,  not  recollecting  the  force  of  the  word  leave,  proposes 
an  amendment  of  this  passage,  but  that  is  unnecessary ;  for,  in 
the  language  of  the  time,  to  leave  means  to  part  with,  or  give^ 
aivay.  Thus,  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  Portia,  speaking  of 
the  ring  she  gave  Bassanio,  says  : 

" and  here  he  stands  ; 

"  I  dare  be  sworn  for  him,  he  would  not  leave  it, 

"  Or  pluck  it  from  his  ringer,  for  the  wealth 

"  That  the  world  masters." 
And  Bassanio  says,  in  a  subsequent  scene  : 

"  If  you  did  know  to  whom  I  gave  the  ring,  &c. 

"  And  how  unwillingly  I  left  the  ring, 

"  You  would  abate  the  strength  of  your  displeasure." 

M.  Mason. 

To  leave,  is  used  with  equal  licence,  in  a  former  scene,  for  to 
tease.     "  1  leave  to  be,"  &C.     Malone. 

4  S/je's  dead,  belike.]  This  is  said  in  reference  to  what  Proteus 
had  asserted  to  Silvia  in  a  former  scene  ;  viz.  that  both  Julia 
and  Valentine  were  dead.     Steevens. 


284  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  iv. 

Pro.  Well,  give  her  that  ring,  and  therewithal 
This  letter ; — that's  her  chamber. — Tell  my  lady, 
I  claim  the  promise  for  her  heavenly  picture. 
Your  message  done,  hie  home  unto  my  chamber, 
Where  thou  shalt  find  me  sad  and  solitary. 

[Exit  Proteus. 

Jul.  How  many  women  would  do  such  a  message? 
Alas,  poor  Proteus !  thou  hast  entertain'd 
A  fox,  to  be  the  shepherd  of  thy  lambs : 
Alas,  poor  fool !  why  do  I  pity  him 
That  with  his  very  heart  despiseth  me  ? 
Because  he  loves  her,  he  despiseth  me ; 
Because  I  love  him,  I  must  pity  him. 
This  ring  I  gave  him,  when  he  parted  from  me, 
To  bind  him  to  remember  my  good  will : 
And  now  am  I  (unhappy  messenger) 
To  plead  for  that,  which  I  would  not  obtain ; 
To  carry  that  which  I  would  have  refus'd ; 
To  praise  his  faith,  which  I  would  have  disprais'd.5 
I  am  my  master's  true  confirmed  love ; 
But  cannot  be  true  servant  to  my  master, 
Unless  I  prove  false  traitor  to  myself. 
Yet  I  will  woo  for  him ;  but  yet  so  coldly, 
As,  heaven,  it  knows,  I  would  not  have  him  speed. 

Enter  Silvia,  attended. 

Gentlewoman,  good  day !  I  pray  you,  be  my  mean 
To  bring  me  where  to  speak  with  madam  Silvia. 

Sil.  What  would  you  with  her,  if  that  I  be  she  ? 

Jul.  If  you  be  she,  I  do  entreat  your  patience 
To  hear  me  speak  the  message  I  am  sent  on. 


4  To  carry  that,  'which  I  would  have  refused  ;  &c]  The  sense 
is,  to  go  and  present  that  which  I  wish  not  to  be  accepted,  to 
praise  him  whom  I  wish  to  be  dispraised.    Johnson. 


sc.  iv.  OF  VERONA.  285 

Sil.  From  whom  ? 

Jul.  From  my  master,  sir  Proteus,  madam. 

Sil.  O ! — he  sends  you  for  a  picture  ? 

Jul.  Ay,  madam. 

Sil.  Ursula,  bring  my  picture  there. 

[Picture  brought. 
Go,  give  your  master  this  :  tell  him  from  me, 
One  Julia,  that  his  changing  thoughts  forget, 
Would  better  fit  his  chamber,  than  this  shadow. 

Jul.  Madam,  please  you  peruse  this  letter. 

Pardon  me,  madam  ;  I  have  unadvis'd 
Delivered  you  a  paper  that  I  should  not ; 
This  is  the  letter  to  your  ladyship. 

Sil.  I  pray  thee,  let  me  look  on  that  again. 

Jul.  It  may  not  be  j  good  madam,  pardon  me. 

Sil.  There,  hold. 
I  will  not  look  upon  your  master's  lines  : 
I  know,  they  are  stuff' d  with  protestations, 
And  full  of  new-found  oaths ;  which  he  will  break, 
As  easily  as  I  do  tear  his  paper. 

Jul.  Madam,  he  sends  your  ladyship  this  ring. 

Sil.  The  more  shame  for  him  that  he  sends  it  me ; 
For,  I  have  heard  him  say  a  thousand  times, 
His  Julia  gave  it  him  at  his  departure : 
Though  his  false  finger  hath  profan'd  the  ring, 
Mine  shall  not  do  his  Julia  so  much  wrong. 

Jul.  She  thanks  you. 
Sil.  What  say'st  thou  ? 

Jul.  I  thank  you,  madam,  that  you  tender  her  : 
Poor  gentlewoman  !  my  master  wrongs  her  much. 

Sil.  Dost  thou  know  her  ? 

Jul.  Almost  as  well  as  I  do  know  myself: 


286  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  iv. 

To  think  upon  her  woes,  I  do  protest, 
That  I  have  wept  an  hundred  several  times. 

Sil.  Belike,  she  thinks  that  Proteus  hath  forsook 
her. 

Jul.  I  think  she  doth,  and  that's  her  cause  of 
sorrow. 

Sil.  Is  she  not  passing  fair  ? 

Jul.  She  hath  been  fairer,  madam,  than  she  is  : 
When  she  did  think  my  master  lov'd  her  well, 
She,  in  my  judgement,  was  as  fair  as  you  ; 
But  since  she  did  neglect  her  looking-glass, 
And  threw  her  sun-expelling  mask  away, 
The  air  hath  starv'd  the  roses  in  her  cheeks, 
And  pinch'd  the  lily-tincture  of  her  face,6 
That  now  she  is  become  as  black  as  I. 

Sil.  How  tall  was  she  ? 7 

Jul.  About  my  stature  :  for,  at  Pentecost, 
When  all  our  pageants  of  delight  were  play'd, 
Our  youth  got  me  to  play  the  woman's  part, 
And  I  was  trimm'd  in  madam  Julia's  gown ; 
Which  served  me  as  fit,  by  all  men's  judgement, 
As  if  the  garment  had  been  made  for  me  : 
Therefore,  I  know  she  is  about  my  height. 

6  And  pinch'd  the  lily-tincture  ofherjace,']  The  colour  of  a 
part  pinched,  is  livid,  as  it  is  commonly  termed,  black  and  blue. 
The  weather  may  therefore  be  justly  said  to  pinch  when  it  pro- 
duces the  same  visible  effect.  I  believe  this  is  the  reason  why 
the  cold  is  said  to  pinch.     Johnson. 

Cleopatra  says  of  herself: 

" think  on  me, 

"  That  am  with  Phoebus'  amorous  pinches  black." 

Steevens. 

7  Sil.  How  tall  was  she?]  We  should  read — "  How  tall  is  she  ?" 
For  that  is  evidently  the  question  which  Silvia  means  to  ask. 

Ritson. 


sc.  iv.  OF  VERONA.  287 

And,  at  that  time,  I  made  her  weep  a-good,8 
For  I  did  play  a  lamentable  part : 
Madam,  'twas  Ariadne,  passioning 
For  Theseus'  perjury,  and  unjust  flight ; 9 

8  weep  a-good,]  i.  e.  in  good  earnest.     Tout  de  bon.  Fr. 

So,  in  Turberville's  translation  of  Ovid's  epistle  from  Ariadne  to 
Theseus  ; 

" beating  of  my  breast  a-good"     Steevens. 

So,  in  Marlowe's  Jew  of  Malta,  1633  : 

"  And  therewithal  their  knees  have  rankled  so, 
"  That  I  have  laugh'd  a-good"     Malone. 

9  'twas  Ariadne,  passioning 

For  Theseus'  perjury,  and  unjust  fight  ;]  The  history  of  this 
twice-deserted  lady  is  too  well  known  to  need  an  introduction 
here  ;  nor  is  the  reader  interrupted  on  the  business  of  Shakspeare: 
but  I  find  it  difficult  to  refrain  from  making  a  note  the  vehicle  for 
a  conjecture  which  I  may  have  no  better  opportunity  of  commu- 
nicating to  the  public. — The  subject  of  a  picture  of  Guido  (com- 
monly supposed  to  be  Ariadne  deserted  by  Theseus  and  courted 
by  Bacchus)  may  possibly  have  been  hitherto  mistaken.     Who- 
ever will  examine  the  fabulous  history  critically,  as  well  as  the 
performance  itself,  will  acquiesce  in  the  truth  of  the  remark. 
Ovid,  in  his  Fasti,  tells  us,  that  Bacchus  (who  left  Ariadne  to 
go  on  his  Indian  expedition)   found  too  many  charms  in  the 
daughter  of  one  of  the  kings  of  that  country. 
"  Interea  Liber  depexus  crinibus  Indos 
"  Vincit,  et  Eoo  dives  ab  orbe  redit. 
"  Inter  captivas  facie  pra?stante  puellas 
"  Grata  nimis  Baccho  filia  regis  erat. 
"  Flebat  amans  conjux,  spatiataque  littore  curvo 

"  Edidit  incultis  talia  verba  sonis. 
"  Quid  me  desertis  perituram,  Liber,  arenis 

"  Servabas  ?  potui  dedoluisse  semel. 

"  Ausus  es  ante  oculos,  adducta  pellice,  nostros 
M  Tarn  bene  compositum  sollicitare  torum,"  drc. 

Ovid,  Fast.  1.  iii.  v.  465. 
In  tliis  picture  he  appears  as  if  just  returned  from  India,  bring- 
ing with  him  his  new  favourite,  who  hangs  on  his  arm,  and  whose 
presence  only  causes  those  emotions  so  visible  in  the  countenance 
of  Ariadne,  who  had  been  hitherto  represented  on  this  occasion  : 

" as  passioning 

"  For  Theseus'  perjury  and  unjust  flight." 
From  this  painting  a  plate  was  engraved  by  Giacomo  Freij, 


2SS  TWO  GENTLEMEN  £wm 

Which  I  so  lively  acted  with  my  tears, 
That  my  poor  mistress,  moved  therewithal, 
Wept  bitterly  ;  and,  would  I  might  be  dead, 
If  I  in  thought  felt  not  her  very  sorrow ! 

Sil.  She  is  beholden  to  thee,  gentle  youth  ! — 
Alas,  poor  lady !  desolate  and  left ! — 
I  weep  myself,  to  think  upon  thy  words. 
Here,  youth,  there  is  my  purse  ;  I  give  thee  this 
For  thy  sweet  mistress'  sake, because  thoulov'st  her. 
Farewell.  [Exit  Silvia. 

Jul.  And  she  shall  thank  you  for't,  if  e'er  you 
know  her. — 
A  virtuous  gentlewoman,  mild,  and  beautiful. 
I  hope  my  master's  suit  will  be  but  cold, 
Since  she  respects  my  mistress'  love  so  much.1 
Alas,  how  love  can  trine  with  itself! 


which  is  generally  a  companion  to  the  Aurora  of  the  same  ma- 
ster. The  print  is  so  common,  that  the  curious  may  easily  sa- 
tisfy themselves  concerning  the  propriety  of  a  remark  which  has 
intruded  itself  among  the  notes  on  Shakspeare. 

To  passion  is  used  as  a  verb,  by  writers  contemporary  with 
Shakspeare.  In  The  Blind  Beggar  of  Alexandria,  printed  1508, 
we  meet  with  the  same  expression :  "  — what,  art  thou  jiassion- 
ing  over  the  picture  of  Cleanthes  ?" 

Again,  in  Eliosto  Libidinoso,  a  novel,  by  John  Hinde,  1606  : 
"  — if  thou  gaze  on  a  picture,  thou  must,  with  Pigmalion,  be 
passionate." 

Again,  in  Spenser's  Fairy  Queen,  B.  III.  c.  12 : 

"  Some  argument  of  matter  passioned?"1     Steevens. 

Hivas  Ariadne,  passioning — ]     On  her  being  deserted 

by  Theseus  in  the  night,  and  left  on  the  island  of  Naxos. 

Malone. 

1  my  mistress'  love  so  much.']    She  had  in  her  preceding 

speech  called  Julia  her  mistress  ;  but  it  is  odd  enough  that  she 
should  thus  describe  herself,  when  she  is  alone.  Sir-T.  Hanmer 
reads — "  his  mistress ;"  but  without  necessity.  Our  author 
knew  that  his  audience  considered  the  disguised  Julia  in  the 
present  scene  as  a  page  to  Proteus,  and  this,  I  believe,  and  the 
love  of  antithesis,  produced  the  expression.    Malone. 


sc.  iv.  OF  VERONA.  289 

Here  is  her  picture :  Let  me  see  ;  I  think, 
If  I  had  such  a  tire,  this  face  of  mine 
Were  full  as  lovely  as  is  this  of  hers  : 
And  yet  the  painter  flatter'd  her  a  little, 
Unless  I  flatter  with  myself  too  much. 
Her  hair  is  auburn,  mine  is  perfect  yellow : 
If  that  be  all  the  difference  in  his  love, 
I'll  get  me  such  a  colour'd  periwig.2 
Her  eyes  are  grey  as  glass ; 3  and  so  are  mine : 

2  I'll  get  me  such  a  colour  d  periwig.]  It  should  be  remember- 
ed, that  false  hair  was  worn  by  the  ladies,  long  before  wigs  were 
in  fashion.  These  false  coverings,  however,  were  called  peri- 
tags.  So,  in  Northivard  Hoe,  \607  :  "  There  is  a  new  trade 
come  up  for  cast  gentlewomen,  of  perrhvig-making :  let  your 
wife  set  up  in  the  Strand." — "  Perxvickes,',  however,  are  men- 
tioned by  Churchyard  in  one  of  his  earliest  poems. 

Steevens. 

See  Much  Ado  about  Nothing,  Act  II.  sc.  iii :  "  — and  her 
hair  shall  be  of  what  colour  it  please  God."  And  The  Merchant 
of  Venice,  Act  III.  sc.  ii : 

"  So  are  crisped  snaky  golden  locks,"  &c. 

Again,  in  The  Honestie  of  this  Age,  proving  by  good  Circum- 
stances that  the  World  mis  never  honest  till  noiv,  by  Barnabe  Rich, 
quarto,  l6l.5  :  "  My  lady  holdeth  on  her  way,  perhaps  to  tin' 
tire-maker's  shop,  where  she  shaketh  her  crownes,  to  bestow e 
upon  some  new-fashioned  attire ; — upon  such  artificial  deformed 
periwigs,  that  they  were  fitter  to  furnish  a  theatre,  or  for  her 
that  in  a  stage  play  should  represent  some  hag  of  hell,  than  to 
be  used  by  a  Christian  woman."  Again,  ibid:  "  These  attire- 
makers  within  these  forty  years  were  not  known  by  that  name  ; 
and  but  now  very  lately  they  kept  their  lowzie  commodity  of 
periwigs,  and  their  monstrous  attires,  closed  in  boxes, — and 
those  women  that  used  to  weare  them  would  not  buy  them  but 
in  secret.  But  now  they  are  not  ashamed  to  set  them  forth  upon 
their  stalls, — such  monstrous  mop-powles  of  haire,  so  propor- 
tioned and  deformed,  that  but  within  these  twenty  or  thirty 
years  would  have  drawne  the  passers-by  to  stand  and  gaze,  and 
to  wonder  at  them."     Ma  lone. 

• 

3  Her  eyes  are  grey  as  glass  ;]  So  Chaucer,  in  the  character 
of  his  Prioress : 

"  Ful  Bemelyhire  wimple  y -pinched  was ; 

"  Hire  nose  tretis :  hire  eyen  grey  as  glas"    Theobald^ 

VOL.  IV.  U 


290  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  ir. 

Ay,  but  her  forehead's  low,4  and  mine's  as  high. 

What  should  it  be,  that  he  respects  in  her, 

But  I  can  make  respective 5  in  myself, 

If  this  fond  love  were  not  a  blinded  god  ? 

Come,  shadow,  come,  and  take  this  shadow  up, 

For  'tis  thy  rival.     O  thou  senseless  form, 

Thou  shalt  be  worshipp'd,  kiss'd,  lov'd,  and  ador'd; 

And,  were  there  sense  in  his  idolatry, 

My  substance  should  be  statue  in  thy  stead.6 

*  her  forehead's  lotv,']  A  high  forehead  was  in  our  au- 
thor's time  accounted  a  feature  eminently  beautiful.  So,  in  The 
History  of  Guy  of  Warwick,  "  Felice  his  lady"  is  said  to  "  have 
the  same  highjbrehead  as  Venus."     Johnson. 

5  respective  — ]  i.  e.  respectable.     Steevens. 

6  My  substance  should  be  statue  in  thy  stead."]  It  would  be  easy 
to  read,  with  no  more  roughness  than  is  found  in  many  lines  of 
Shakspeare : 

" should  be  a  statue  in  thy  stead." 

The  sense,  as  Mr.  Edwards  observes,  is,  "  He  should  have  my 
substance  as  a  statue,  instead  of  thee  [the  picture]  who  art  a  sense- 
less form."  This  word,  however,  is  used  without  the  article  a 
in  Massinger's  Great  Duke  of  Florence: 

" it  was  your  beauty 

"  That  turn'd  me  statue." 
And  again,  in  Lord  Surrey's  translation  of  the  4th  JEneid: 

"  And  Trojan  statue  throw  into  the  flame." 
Again,  in  Dryden's  Don  Sebastian  : 

" try  the  virtue  of  that  Gorgon  face, 

"  To  stare  me  into  statue."     Steevens. 

Steevens  has  clearly  proved  that  this  passage  requires  no  amend- 
ment ;  but  it  appears  from  hence,  and  a  passage  in  Massinger, 
that  the  word  statue  was  formerly  used  to  express  a  portrait. 
Julia  is  here  addressing  herself  to  a  picture  ;  and  in  the  City 
Madam,  the  young  ladies  are  supposed  to  take  leave  of  the 
statues  of  their  lovers,  as  they  style  them,  though  Sir  John,  at 
the  beginning  of  the  scene,  calls  them  pictures,  and  describes 
them  afterwards  as  nothing  but  superficies,  colours,  and  no  sub- 
stance.    M.  Mason. 

statue — ]    Statue  here,    I    think,    should   be   written 

statua,  and  pronounced  as  it  generally,  if  not  always,  was  in  our 
author's  time,  a  word  of  three  syllables.    It  being  the  first  time 


sc.  iv.  OF  VERONA.  291 

I'll  use  thee  kindly  for  thy  mistress'  sake, 
That  us'd  me  so ;  or  else,  by  Jove  I  vow, 


this  word  occurs,  I  take  the  opportunity  of  observing  that  altera- 
tions have  been  often  improperly  made  in  the  text  of  Shakspeare, 
by  supposing  statue  to  be  intended  by  him  for  a  dissyllable. 
Thus,  in  King  Richard  III.  Act  III.  sc.  vii : 

"  But  like  dumb  statues  or  breathing  stones." 

Mr.  Rowe  has  unnecessarily  changed  breathing  to  wwbreathing, 
for  a  supposed  defect  in  the  metre,  to  an  actual  violation  of  the 
sense. 

Again,  in  Julius  Ccesar,  Act  II.  sc.  ii : 

"  She  dreamt  to-night  she  saw  my  statue." 

Here,  to  fill  up  the  line,  Mr.  Capell  adds  the  name  of  Decius, 
and  the  last  editor,  deserting  his  usual  caution,  has  improperly 
changed  the  regulation  of  the  whole  passage. 

Again,  in  the  same  play,  Act  III.  sc.  ii : 

"  Even  at  the  base  of  Pompey's  statue." 

In  this  line,  however,  the  true  mode  of  pronouncing  the  word 
is  suggested  by  the  last  editor,  who  quotes  a  very  sufficient  au- 
thority for  his  conjecture.  From  authors  of  the  times  it  would 
not  be  difficult  to  fill  whole  pages  with  instances  to  prove  that 
statue  was  at  that  period  a  trisyllable.  Many  authors  spell  it  in 
that  manner.  On  so  clear  a  point  the  first  proof  which  occurs 
is  enough,  lake  the  following  from  Bacon's  Advancement  of 
Learning,  4to.  1033 :  "  It  is  not  possible  to  have  the  true  pic- 
tures or  statuaes  of  Cyrus,  Alexander,  Caesar,  no  nor  of  the 
kings  or  great  personages  of  much  later  years,"  &c.  p.  S8. 
Again  :  "  — without  which  the  history  of  the  world  seemeth  to 
be  as  the  Stattta  of  Polyphemus  with  his  eye  out,"  &c.     Reed. 

It  may  be  observed,  on  this  occasion,  that  some  Latin  words 
which  were  admitted  into  the  English  language,  still  retained 
their  Roman  pronunciation.  Thus  heroe  and  heroes  are  con- 
stantly used  for  trisyllables;  as  in  the  following  instances,  by 
Chapman : 

"  His  speare  fixt  by  him  as  he  slept,  the  great  end  in  the 

ground, 
"  The  point,  that  brisled  the  darke  earth,  cast  a  reflection 

round 
"  Like  pallid  lightnings  throwne  by  Jove.      Thus  his 

Heme  lay, 
"  And  under  him  a  big  oxe  hide."     \Oth  Iliad. 
Again,  in  the  same  book  : 

u  2 


292  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  r. 

I  should  have  scratched  out  your  unseeing  eyes,7 
To  make  my  master  out  of  love  with  thee.  [Exit* 


ACT  V.     SCENE  I. 

•  The  same.      An   Abbey* 

Enter  Eglamour. 

Egl.  The  sun  begins  to  gild  the  western  sky; 
And  now,  it  is  about  the  very  hour 
That  Silvia,  at  Patrick's  cell,  should  meet  me,8 
She  will  not  fail ;  for  lovers  break  not  hours, 
Unless  it  be  to  come  before  their  time  j 
So  much  they  spur  their  expedition. 

Enter  Silvia. 

See,  where  she  comes :  Lady,  a  happy  evening ! 

SlL.  Amen,  amen !  go  on,  good  Eglamour ! 
Out  at  the  postern  by  the  abbey-wall ; 
I  fear,  I  am  attended  by  some  spies. 

"  This  said,  he  on  his  shoulders  cast  a  yellow  lion's  hide, 
"  Big,  and   reacht    earth ;   then  took  his  speare ;  and 

Nestor's  will  applide, 
Rais'd  the  Heroes,  brought  them  both.      All  met,  the 
round  they  went."     Steevens. 

7  your  unseeing  eyes,']  So,  in  Macbeth: 

"  Thou  hast  no  speculation  in  those  eyes — ."  Steevens. 

8  That  Silvia,  at  Patrick's  cell,  should  meet  me.']  The  old  copy 
redundantly  reads  :  "  —friar  Patrick's  cell."  But  the  omission 
of  this  title  is  justified  by  a  passage  in  the  next  scene,  where  the 
duke  says — 

"  At  Patrick's  cell  this  even ;  and  there  she  was  not." 

Steevens. 


sc.  n.  OF  VERONA.  293 

Egl.  Fear  not:  the  forest  is  not  three  leagues  off; 
If  we  recover  that,  we  are  sure  enough.9  [Exeunt. 

SCENE  II. 

Tlie  same.    An  Apartment  in  the  Duke's  Palace. 

Enter  Thurio,  Proteus,  and  Julia. 

Thu.  Sir  Proteus,  what  says  Silvia  to  my  suit  ? 

Pro.  O,  sir,  I  find  her  milder  than  she  was ; 
And  yet  she  takes  exceptions  at  your  person. 

Thu.  What,  that  my  leg  is  too  long  ? 

Pro.  No  ;  that  it  is  too  little. 

Thu.  I'll  wear  a  boot,  to  make  it  somewhat 
rounder. 

Pro.  But  love  will  not  be  spurr'd  to  what  it 
loaths. 

Thu.  What  says  she  to  my  face  ? 

Pro.  She  says  it  is  a  fair  one. 

Thu.  Nay, then  the  wanton  lies;  my  face  is  black. 

Pro.  But  pearls  are  fair  ;  and  the  old  saying  is, 
Black  men  are  pearls  in  beauteous  ladies'  eyes.1 


9  sure  enough.]   Sure  is  safe,  out  of  danger.     Johnson. 

1  Black  men  are  pearls  <!yc]    So,  in   Heywood's  Iron  Age, 
1632: 

" a  black  complexion 

"  Is  always  precious  in  a  woman's  eye." 
Again,  in  Sir  Giles  Goosecap: 

" but  to  make  every  black  slovenly  cloud  a  pearl  in 

her  eye"     Steevens. 

"  A  black  man  is  a  jewel  in  a  fair  woman's  eye,"  is  one  of 
Kay's  proverbial  sentences.     Malone. 


294  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  v. 

Jul.  'Tis true,2 such  pearls  as  put  out  ladies'  eyes ; 
For  I  had  rather  wink  than  look  on  them.  \_Aside. 

Thu.  How  likes  she  my  discourse  ? 

Pro.  Ill,  when  you  talk  of  war. 

Thu.  But  well,  when  I  discourse  of  love,  and 
peace  ? 

Jul.  But  better,  indeed,  when  you  hold  your 
peace.  [Aside. 

Thu.  What  says  she  to  my  valour  ? 

Pro.  O,  sir,  she  makes  no  doubt  of  that. 

Jul.  She  needs  not,  when  she  knows  it  cowardice. 

\_  Aside. 

Thu.  What  says  she  to  my  birth  ? 

Pro.  That  you  are  well  deriv'd. 

Jul.  True  ;  from  a  gentleman  to  a  fool.  [Aside. 

Thu.  Considers  she  my  possessions  ? 

Pro.  O,  ay;  and  pities  them. 

Thu.  Wherefore? 

Jul.  That  such  an  ass  should  owe  them.  '[Aside. 

Pro.  That  they  are  out  by  lease.3 

2  Jul.  'Tis  true,  &c]  This  speech,  which  certainly  belongs  to 
Julia,  is  given  in  the  eld  copy  to  Thurio.  Mr.  Rowe  restored  it 
to  its  proper  owner.     Steevens. 

That  they  are  out  by  lease.]   I  suppose  he  means,  because 
Thurio's  folly  has  let  them  on  disadvantageous  terms. 

Steevens. 

She  pities  Sir  Thurio's  possessions,  because  they  are  let  to 
others,  and  are  not  in  his  own  dear  hands.  This  appears  to  me 
to  be  the  meaning  of  it.     M.  Mason. 

"  By  Thurio's  possessions,  he  himself  understands  his  lands 
and  estate.  But  Proteus  chooses  to  take  the  word  likewise  in  a 
figurative  sense,  as  signifying  his  mental  endowments  :  and  when 


sc.  n.  OF  VERONA.  295 

Jul.  Here  comes  the  duke. 

Enter  Duke. 

Duke.  How  now,  sir  Proteus  ?  how  now,Thurio? 
Which  of  you  saw  sir  Eglamour 4  of  late  ? 

Tnu.  Not  I. 

Pro.  Nor  I. 

Duke.  Saw  you  my  daughter  ? 

Pro.  Neither. 

Duke.  Why,  then  she's  fled  unto  that  peasant 
Valentine ; 
And  Eglamour  is  in  her  company. 
'Tis  true ;  for  friar  Laurence  met  them  both, 
As  he  in  penance  wander'd  through  the  forest : 
Him  he  knew  well,  and  guess'd  that  it  was  she  ; 
But,  being  mask'd,  he  was  not  sure  of  it : 
Besides,  she  did  intend  confession 
At  Patrick's  cell  this  even ;  and  there  she  was  not : 
These  likelihoods  confirm  her  flight  from  hence. 
Therefore,  I  pray  you,  stand  not  to  discourse, 
But  mount  you  presently ;  and  meet  with  me 
Upon  the  rising  of  the  mountain-foot 
That  leads  towards  Mantua,  whither  they  are  fled. 
Despatch,  sweet  gentlemen,  and  follow  me.  [Exit. 

Thu.  Why,  this  it  is  to  be  a  peevish  girl,5 

he  says  they  are  out  by  /rase,  lie  means  they  are  no  longer  en- 
joyed by  their  master,  (who  is  a  fool,)  hut  are  leased  out  to  an- 
other."    Edinburgh  Magazine,  Nov.  1786.     Steevens. 

*  sir  Eglamour — ]  Sir,  which  is  not  in  the  old  copy,  was 

inserted  by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio.     Malone. 

s  a  peevish  girl,"]   Peevish,  in  ancient  language,  signifies 

foolish.     So,  in  King  Henry  VI.  P.  I : 

"  To  send  such  peevish  tokens  to  a  king."     Steevens. 


296  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  v. 

That  flies  her  fortune  when  it  follows  her : 
I'll  after  ;  more  to  be  reveng'd  on  Eglamour, 
Than  for  the  love  of  reckless  Silvia.6  \_Exit. 

Pro.  And  I  will  follow,  more  for  Silvia's  love, 
Than  hate  of  Eglamour  that  goes  with  her.  \_Exit. 

Jul.  And  I  will  follow,  more  to  cross  that  love, 
Than  hate  for  Silvia,  that  is  gone  for  love.    \_Exit. 


SCENE  III. 

Frontiers  of  Mantua.     The  Forest. 

Enter  Silvia,  and  Out-laws. 

Out.  Come,  come ; 
Be  patient,  we  must  bring  you  to  our  captain. 

Sil.  A  thousand  more  mischances  than  this  one 
Have  learn'd  me  how  to  brook  this  patiently. 

2  Out.  Come,  bring  her  away. 

1  Out.  Where  is  the  gentleman  that  was  with 
her  ? 

3  Out.  Being  nimble-footed,  he  hath  out-run  us, 
But  Moyses,  and  Valerius,  follow  him. 

Go  thou  with  her  to  the  west  end  of  the  wood, 
There  is  our  captain :  we'll  follow  him  that's  fled ; 
The  thicket  is  beset,  he  cannot  'scape. 

1  Out.  Come,  I  must  bring  you  to  our  captain's 
cave: 
Fear  not ;  he  bears  an  honourable  mind, 
And  will  not  use  a  woman  lawlessly. 

Sil.  O  Valentine, this  I  endure  for  thee.  \_Exeunt. 

6 reckless  Silvia.']  i.  e.  careless,  heedless.    So,  in  Hamlet : 

" like  a  putf'd  and  reckless  libertine."      Steevens. 


Sc.  iv.  OF  VERONA.  297 

SCENE  IV. 

Another  part  of  the  Forest. 

Enter  Valentine. 

Val.  How  use  doth  breed  a  habit  in  a  man ! 
This  shadowy  desert,  unfrequented  woods, 
I  better  brook  than  flourishing  peopled  towns : 
Here  can  I  sit  alone,  unseen  of  any, 
And,  to  the  nightingale's  complaining  notes, 
Tune  my  distresses,  and  record  my  woes.7 
O  thou  that  dost  inhabit  in  my  breast, 
Leave  not  the  mansion  so  long  tenantless ; 
Lest,  growing  ruinous,  the  building  fall, 
And  leave  no  memory  of  what  it  was  ! 8 
Repair  me  with  thy  presence,  Silvia; 
Thou  gentle  nymph,  cherish  thy  forlorn  swain  ! — 

7  record  my  tvoesJ]  To  record  anciently  signified  to  sing. 

So,  in  The  Pilgrim,  by  Beaumont  and  Fletcher : 

"  O  sweet,  sweet !  how  the  birds  record  too  ?" 

Again,  in  a  pastoral,  by  N.   Breton,  published   in  England's 
Helicon,  1614: 

"  Sweet  Philomel,  the  bird  that  hath  the  heavenly  throat, 

"  Doth  now,  alas!  not  once  afford  recording  of  a  note." 
Again,  in  another  Dittie^  by  Thomas  Watson,  ibid : 

"  Now  birds  record  with  harmonic" 
Sir  John  Hawkins  informs  me,  that  to  record  is  a  term  still 
used  by  bird-fanciers,  to  express  the  first  essays  of  a  bird  in 
singing.     Steevens. 

8  0  thou  that  dost  inhabit  in  my  breast, 
Leave  not  the  mansion  so  long  tenantless  ; 
Lest,  growing  ruinous,  the  building  fall, 

And  leave  no  memory  of  what  it  ivas  .']  It  is  hardly  possible 
to  point  out  four  lines,  in  any  of  the  plays  of  Shakspeare,  more 
remarkable  for  ease  and  elegance.     Steevens. 


6" 


And  leave  no  memory  of  what  it   ivas  /]   So,  in  Marlowe's 
Jtiv  of  Malta  : 

"  And  leave  no  memory  thai  e'er  /was."     Ritson. 


298  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  v. 

What  halloing,  and  what  stir,  is  this  to-day  ? 
These  are  my  mates,  that  make  their  wills  their  law, 
Have  some  unhappy  passenger  in  chace  : 
They  love  me  well ;  yet  I  have  much  to  do, 
To  keep  them  from  uncivil  outrages. 
Withdraw  thee,  Valentine  ;  who's  this  comes  here  ? 

[Steps  aside. 

Enter  Proteus,  Silvia,  and  Julia. 

Pro.  Madam,  this  service  I  have  done  for  you, 
(Though  you  respect  not  aught  your  servant  doth,) 
To  hazard  life,  and  rescue  you  from  him 
That  wou'd  have  forc'd  your  honour  and  your  love. 
Vouchsafe  me,  for  my  meed,9  but  one  fair  look  j 
A  smaller  boon  than  this  I  cannot  beg, 
And  less  than  this,  I  am  sure,  you  cannot  give. 

Val.  How  like  a  dream  is  this  I  see  and  hear ! 
Love,  lend  me  patience  to  forbear  a  while.  [Aside. 

SlL.  O  miserable,  unhappy  that  I  am ! 

Pro.  Unhappy,  were  you,  madam,  ere  I  came  ; 
But,  by  my  coming,  I  have  made  you  happy. 
Sil.  By  thy  approach  thou  mak'st  me  most  un- 
happy. 

Jul.  And  me,  when  he  approacheth  to  your 
presence.  [Aside. 

Sil.  Had  I  been  seized  by  a  hungry  lion, 
t  would  have  been  a  breakfast  to  the  beast, 


0  my  meed,]  i.  e.  reward.     So,  in  Titus  Andronicus  : 

" thanks,  to  men 

"  Of  noble  minds,  is  honourable  meed'''     Steeven.s 

Again,  in  Gammer  Gurton's  Needle,  15/5  : 

"  O  Christ!  that  I  were  sure  of  it!  in  faith  he  should 
have  his  mede." 
See  also  Spenser,  and  almost  every  writer  of  the  times.     Reed. 


sc.  m  OF  VERONA.  299 

Rather  than  have  false  Proteus  rescue  me. 
O,  heaven  be  judge,  how  I  love  Valentine, 
Whose  life's  as  tender  to  me  as  my  soul ; 
And  full  as  much,  (for  more  there  cannot  be,) 
I  do  detest  false  perjur'd  Proteus  : 
Therefore  be  gone,  solicit  me  no  more. 

Pro.  What  dangerous  action,  stood  it  next  to 
death, 
Would  I  not  undergo  for  one  calm  look  ? 
O,  'tis  the  curse  in  love,  and  still  approv'd,1 
When  women  cannot  love  where  they're  belov'd. 

Sil.  When  Proteus  cannotlove  where  he's  belov'd. 
Read  over  Julia's  heart,  thy  first  best  love, 
For  whose  dear  sake  thou  didst  then  rend  thy  faith 
Into  a  thousand  oaths  ;  and  all  those  oaths 
Descended  into  perjury,  to  love  me. 
Thou  hast  no  faith  left  now,  unless  thou  hadst  two, 
And  that's  far  worse  than  none ;  better  have  none 
Than  plural  faith,  which  is  too  much  by  one  : 
Thou  counterfeit  to  thy  true  friend ! 

Pro.  In  love, 

Who  respects  friend  ? 

Sil.  All  men  but  Proteus. 

Pro.  Nay,  if  the  gentle  spirit  of  moving  words 
Can  no  way  change  you  to  a  milder  form, 
I'll  woo  you  like  a  soldier,  at  arms'  end  ; 
And  love  you  'gainst  the  nature  of  love,  force  you. 

Sil.  O  heaven ! 

Pro.  I'll  force  thee  yield  to  my  desire. 

Val.  Ruffian,  let  go  that  rude  uncivil  touch  ; 
Thou  friend  of  an  ill  fashion  ! 


and  still  approv'd,]   Approv'd  is  felt,  experienced. 

Malone. 


300  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  v. 

Pro.  Valentine ! 

Val.  Thou  common  friend,  that's  without  faith 

or  love ; 2 
(For  such  is  a  friend  now,)  treacherous  man ! 
Thou  hast  beguil'd  my  hopes ;  nought  but  mine  eye 
Could  have  persuaded  me  :  Now  I  dare  not  say 
I  have  one  friend  alive ;  thou  would'st  disprove  me. 
Who  should  be  trusted  now,  when  one's  right  hand 3 
Is  perjur'd  to  the  bosom  ?  Proteus, 
I  am  sorry,  I  must  never  trust  thee  more, 
But  count  the  world  a  stranger  for  thy  sake. 
The  private  wound   is  deepest : 4    O  time,  most 

curst ! 
'Mongst  all  foes,  that  a  friend  should  be  the  worst ! 

2  that's  without  faith  or  love  ;]  That's  is  perhaps  here 

used,  not  for  who  is,  but  for  id  est,  that  is  to  say.     Malone. 

3  Who  should  be  trusted  now,  when  one's  right  hand — ]  The 
word  now  is  wanting  in  the  first  folio.     Steevens. 

The  second  folio,  to  complete  the  metre,  reads : 

"  Who  shall  be  trusted  now,  when  one's  right  hand — ." 

The  addition,  like  all  those  made  in  that  copy,  appears  to 
have  been  merely  arbitrary ;  and  the  modern  word  [own,  which 
was  introduced  by  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer]  is,  in  my  opinion,  more 
likely  to  have  been  the  author's  than  the  other.     Malone. 

What !  "  all  at  one  fell  swoop  !"  are  they  all  arbitrary,  when 
Mr.  Malone  has  honoured  so  many  of  them  with  a  place  in  his 
text  ?  Being  completely  satisfied  with  the  reading  of  the  second 
folio,  I  have  followed  it.     Steevens. 

4  The  private  wound  &c.~\  I  have  a  little  mended  the  mea- 
sure.    The  old  edition,  and  all  but  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer's  read: 

"  The  private  wound  is  deepest :  0  time  most  accurs'd." 

Johnson. 
Deepest,  highest,  and  other  similar  words,   were  sometimes 
used  by  the  poets  of  Shakspeare's  age  as  monosyllables. 
So,  in  our  poet's  133d  Sonnet : 

"  But  slave  to  slavery  my  sweetest  friend  must  be." 

Malone. 

Perhaps  our  author  only  wrote — "  sweet,"  which  the  tran- 
scriber, or  printer,  prolonged  into  the  superlative — "  sweets." 

Steevens. 


sc.  iv.  OF  VERONA.  501 

Pro.  My  shame  and  guilt  confounds  me. — 
Forgive  me,  Valentine  :  if  hearty  sorrow 
Be  a  sufficient  ransom  for  offence, 
I  tender  it  here  ;  I  do  as  truly  surfer, 
As  e'er  I  did  commit. 

Val.  Then  I  am  paid ; 

And  once  again  I  do  receive  thee  honest : — 
Who  by  repentance  is  not  satisfied, 
Is  nor  of  heaven,  nor  earth  ;  for  these  are  pleas'd ; 
By  penitence  the  Eternal's  wrath's  appeas'd : — 
And,  that  my  love  may  appear  plain  and  free, 
All  that  was  mine  in  Silvia,  I  give  thee.5 

Jul.  O  me,  unhappy  !  [_Fainls. 


'  All  that  ivas  mine  in  Silvia,  /  give  thee.]  It  is  (I  think) 
very  odd,  to  give  up  his  mistress  thus  at  once,  without  any  reason 
alledged.  But  our  author  probably  followed  the  stories  just  as 
he  found  them  in  his  novels  as  well  as  histories.     Pope. 

This  passage  either  hath  been  much  sophisticated,  or  is  one 
great  proof  that  the  main  parts  of  this  play  did  not  proceed  from 
Shakspeare ;  for  it  is  impossible  he  could  make  Valentine  act 
and  speak  so  much  out  of  character,  or  give  to  Silvia  so  unna» 
tural  a  behaviour,  as  to  take  no  notice  of  this  strange  concession, 
if  it  had  been  made.     Hanmer. 

Valentine,  from  seeing  Silvia  in  the  company  of  Proteus, 
might  conceive  she  had  escaped  with  him  from  her  father's 
court,  for  the  purposes  of  love,  though  she  could  not  foresee  the 
violence  which  his  villainy  might  offer,  after  he  had  seduced  her 
under  the  pretence  of  an  honest  passion.  If  Valentine,  how- 
ever, be  supposed  to  hear  all  that  passed  between  them  in  this 
scene,  I  am  afraid  I  have  only  to  subscribe  to  the  opinions  of 
my  predecessors.     Steevens. 

I  give  thee,']  Transfer  these  two  lines  to  the  end  of 

Thurio's  speech  in  page  305,  and  all  is  right.  Why  then  should 
Julia  faint  ?  It  is  only  an  artifice,  seeing  Silvia  given  up  to  Va- 
lentine, to  discover  herself  to  Proteus,  by  a  pretended  mistake 
of  the  rings.  One  great  fault  of  this  play  is  the  hastening  too 
abruptly,  and  without  due  preparation,  to  the  denouement, 
which  shews  that,  if  it  be  Shakspeare's,  (which  1  cannot  doubt, ^ 
it  was  one  of  his  very  early  performances.     Blackstone. 


302  TWO  GENTLEMEN  Act  v. 

Pro.  Look  to  the  boy. 

Val.  Why,  boy !  why,  wag !  how  now  ?  what  is 
the  matter  ? 
Look  up ;  speak. 

Jul.  O  good  sir,  my  master  charg'd  me 

To  deliver  a  ring  to  madam  Silvia  ;c 
Which  out  of  my  neglect,  was  never  done. 

Pro.  Where  is  that  ring,  boy  ? 

Jul.  Here  'tis  :  this  is  it. 

\_Gives  a  ring. 
Pro.  How  !  let  me  see  : 7 
Why  this  is  the  ring  I  gave  to  Julia. 

Jul.  O,  cry  you  mercy,  sir,  I  have  mistook ; 
This  is  the  ring  you  sent  to  Silvia. 

[Shows  another  ring. 

Pro.  But,  how  cam'st  thou  by  this  ring  ?  at  my 
depart, 
I  gave  this  unto  Julia. 

Jul.  And  Julia  herself  did  give  it  me  j 
And  Julia  herself  hath  brought  it  hither. 

Pro.  How !  Julia ! 


To  deliver  a  ring  to  madam  Silvia;']  Surely  our  author 
wrote — "  Deliver  a  ring,"  &c.  A  verse  so  rugged  as  that  in 
the  text  must  be  one  of  those  corrupted  by  the  players,  or  their 
transcriber.     Steevens. 

7  Pro.  How!  let  me  see :  &c]  I  suspect  that  this  unmetrical 
passage  should  be  regulated  as  follows : 

Pro.  Hotv  !  let  me  see  it :   Why,  this  is  the  ring 
I  gave  to  Julia. 

Jul.  '■ 'C?y  you  mercy,  sir, 
I  have  mistook  ;  this  is  the  ring  you  sent 
To  Silvia. 

Pro.  But  how  cam'st  thou  by  this? 
At  my  depart,  I  gave  this  unto  Julia.    Steevens. 


sc.  iv.  OF  VERONA.  303 

Jul.  Behold  her  that  gave  aim  to  all  thy  oaths,8 
And  entertain'd  them  deeply  in  her  heart : 
How  oft  hast  thou  with  perjury  cleft  the  root  ?9 
O  Proteus,  let  this  habit  make  thee  blush ! 
Be  thou  asham'd,  that  I  have  took  upon  me 
Such  an  immodest  rayment ;  if  shame  live  1 
In  a  disguise  of  love  : 
It  is  the  lesser  blot,  modesty  finds, 
Women  to  change  their  shapes,  than  men  their 
minds. 

Pro.  Than  men  their  minds !  'tis  true  :  O  hea- 
ven !  were  man 
But  constant,  he  were  perfect :  that  one  error 
Fills  him  with  faults  ;  makes  him  run  through  all 

sins : 
Inconstancy  falls  off,  ere  it  begins : 
What  is  in  Silvia's  face,  but  I  may  spy 
More  fresh  in  Julia's  with  a  constant  eye  ? 

Val.  Come,  come,  a  hand  from  either  : 
Let  me  be  blest  to  make  this  happy  close, ; 
'Twere  pity  two  such  friends  should  be  long  foes. 

Pro.  Bear  witness,  heaven,  I  have  my  wish  for 
ever. 


8  Behold  her  that  gave  aim  to  all  thy  oaths,]    So,  in  Titus 
Andronicus,  Act  V.  sc.  iii : 

"  But  gentle  people,  give  me  aim  a  while." 
Both  these  passages  allude  to  the  aim-crier  in  archery.     So, 
in   The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  Act  III.  sc.  ii :  "  — all  my 
neighbours  shall  cry  aim."     See  note,  ibid.     Steevens. 

9  How  oft  hast  thou  with  perjury  cleft  the  root  ?]    Sir  T.  Han- 
mer  reads — cleft  the  root  on't.     Johnson. 

cleft  the  root  ?]  i.  e.  of  her  heart.     Malone. 

An  allusion  to  cleaving  the  pin  in  archery.     Steevens. 

//shame  live — ]   That  is,  if  it  be  any  shame  to  wear  <* 


disguise  for  the  purposes  of  love.    Johnson. 


304  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  r. 

Jul.  And  I  have  mine.2 

Enter  Out-laws,  with  Duke  and  Thurio. 

Out.  A  prize,  a  prize,  a  prize  ! 

Val.  Forbear,  I  say ;  it  is  my  lord  the  duke.3 
Your  grace  is  welcome  to  a  man  disgrac'd, 
Banished  Valentine. 

Duke.  Sir  Valentine ! 

Thu.  Yonder  is  Silvia ;  and  Silvia's  mine. 

Val.  Thurio  give  back,  or  else  embrace  thy 
death ; 
Come  not  within  the  measure 4  of  my  wrath  : 
Do  not  name  Silvia  thine  ;  if  once  again, 
Milan  shall  not  behold  thee.5     Here  she  stands, 
Take  but  possession  of  her  with  a  touch  ; — 
I  dare  thee  but  to  breathe  upon  my  love. — 

Thu.  Sir  Valentine,  I  care  not  for  her,  I ; 


2  And  I  have  mine.']  The  old  copy  reads — "  And  I  mine." 
— I  have  inserted  the  word  have,  which  is  necessary  to  metre,  by 
the  advice  of  Mr.  Ritson.     Steevens. 

3  Forbear,  I  say  ;  it  is  my  lord  the  duke.]  The  old  copy, 
without  regard  to  meti-e,  repeats  the  word  forbear,  which  is 
here  omitted.     Steevens. 

the  measure  — ]  The  length  of  my  sword,  the  reach  of 


my  anger.     Johnson. 

4  Milan  shall  not  behold  thee.]  All  the  editions —  Verona  shall 
not  behold  thee.  But,  whether  through  the  mistake  of  the  first 
editors,  or  the  poet's  own  carelessness,  this  reading  is  absurdly 
faulty.  For  the  threat  here  is  to  Thurio,  who  is  a  Milanese ; 
and  has  no  concern,  as  it  appears,  with  Verona.  Besides,  the 
scene  is  between  the  confines  of  Milan  and  Mantua,  to  which 
Silvia  follows  Valentine,  having  heard  that  he  had  retreated 
thither.  And,  upon  these  circumstances,  I  ventured  to  adjust 
the  text,  as  I  imagine  the  poet  must  have  intended  :  i.  e.  Milan, 
thy  country,  shall  never  see  thee  again  :  thou  shalt  never  live  to 
go  back  thither.    Theobald. 


sc.  iv,  OF  VERONA.  305 

I  hold  him  but  a  fool,  that  will  endanger 
His  body  for  a  girl  that  loves  him  not : 
I  claim  her  not,  and  therefore  she  is  thine. 

Duke.  The  more  degenerate  and  base  art  thou, 
To  make  such  means  for  her  as  thou  hast  done,6 
And  leave  her  on  such  slight  conditions. — 
Now,  by  the  honour  of  my  ancestry, 
I  do  applaud  thy  spirit,  Valentine, 
And  think  thee  worthy  of  an  empress'  love.7 
Know  then,  I  here  forget  all  former  griefs,8 
Cancel  all  grudge,  repeal  thee  home  again. — 
Plead  a  new  state9  in  thy  unrivalPd  merit, 
To  which  I  thus  subscribe, — sir  Valentine, 
Thou  art  a  gentleman,  and  well  deriv'd ; 
Take  thou  thy  Silvia,  for  thou  hast  deserv'd  her. 

Val.  I  thank  your  grace ;  the  gift  hath  made 
me  happy. 
I  now  beseech  you,  for  your  daughter's  sake, 
To  grant  one  boon  that  I  shall  ask  of  you. 

Duke.  I  grant  it,  for  thine  own,  whate'er  it  be. 

Val.  These  banish'd  men,  that  Ihave  kept  withal, 
Are  men  endued  with  worthy  qualities ; 
Forgive  them  what  they  have  committed  here, 

6  To  make  such  meansyo?-  her  as  thou  hast  done,']  i.  e.  to  make 
such  interest  for,  to  take  such  disingenuous  pains  about  her.  So, 
in  King  Richard  III : 

"  One  that  made  means  to  come  by  what  he  hath." 

Steevens. 

7  And  think  thee  worthy  of  an  empress*  love.]  This  thought 
has  already  occurred  in  the  fourth  scene  of  the  second  act: 

"  He  is  as  worthy  for  an  empress'  love."     Steevens. 

8  all  former  griefs,]    Griefs  in  old  language  frequently 

signified  grievances,  wrongs.     Malone. 

9  Plead  a  new  state  — ]  Should  not  this  begin  a  new  sentence  ? 
Plead  is  the  same  as  plead  thou.     Tyrwhitt. 

I  have  followed  Mr.  Tyrwhitt's  direction.     Steevens. 
VOL.  IV.  X 


306  TWO  GENTLEMEN  act  n 

And  let  them  be  recall'd  from  their  exile : 
They  are  reformed,  civil,  full  of  good, 
And  fit  for  great  employment,  worthy  lord. 

Duke.  Thou  hast  prevail'd:    I  pardon  them, 
and  thee  ; 
Dispose  of  them,  as  thou  know'st  their  deserts. 
Come,  let  us  go ;  we  will  include  all  jars l 
With  triumphs,2  mirth,  and  rare  solemnity. 

Val.  And,  as  we  walk  along,  I  dare  be  bold 
With  our  discourse  to  make  your  grace  to  smile  : 
What  think  you  of  this  page,  my  lord  ? 

Duke.  I  think  the  boy  hath  grace  in  him  ;  he 
blushes. 

Val.  I  warrant  you,  my  lord ;  more  grace  than 
boy. 

Duke.  What  mean  you  by  that  saying  ? 

Val.  Please  you,  I'll  tell  you  as  we  pass  along, 
That  you  will  wonder  what  hath  fortuned. — 
Come,  Proteus  ;  'tis  your  penance,  but  to  hear 
The  story  of  your  loves  discovered : 
That  done,  our  day  of  marriage  shall  be  yours ; 
One  feast,  one  house,  one  mutual  happiness. 

\_~Exeunt? 

1  include  all  jars — ]  Sir  T.  Hanmer  reads — conclude. 

Johnson. 

To  include  is  to  shut  up,  to  conclude.     So,  in  Macbeth  : 

"  and  shut  up 

"  In  measureless  content." 
Again,  in  Spenser's  Fairy  Queen,  B.  IV.  ch.  ix : 

"  And  for  to  shut  up  all  in  friendly  love."     Steevens. 

*  With  triumphs,"}  Triumphs  in  this  and  many  other  passages 
of  Shakspeare,  signify  Masques  and  Revels,  &c.  So,  in  King 
Henry  VI.  P.  Ill : 

"  With  stately  triumphs,  mirthful  comic  shows." 

Steevens. 

9  In  this  play  there  is  a  strange  mixture  of  knowledge  and 


OF  VERONA.  307 

ignorance,  of  care  and  negligence.  The  versification  is  often  ex- 
cellent, the  allusions  are  learned  and  just ;  but  the  author  conveys 
his  heroes  by  sea  from  one  inland  town  to  another  in  the  same 
country ;  he  places  the  Emperor  at  Milan,  and  sends  his  young 
men  to  attend  him,  but  never  mentions  him  more ;  he  makes 
Proteus,  after  an  interview  with  Silvia,  say  he  has  only  seen  her 
picture;  and,  if  we  may  credit  the  old  copies,  he  has,  by  mis- 
taking places,  left  his  scenery  inextricable.  The  reason  of  all 
this  confusion  seems  to  be,  that  he  took  his  story  from  a  novel, 
which  he  sometimes  followed,  and  sometimes  forsook,  sometimes 
remembered,  and  sometimes  forgot. 

That  this  play  is  rightly  attributed  to  Shakspeare,  I  have  little 
doubt.  If  it  be  taken  from  him,  to  whom  shall  it  be  given  ? 
This  question  may  be  asked  of  all  the  disputed  plays,  except 
Titus  Andronicus  ;  and  it  will  be  found  more  credible,  that 
Shakspeare  might  sometimes  sink  below  his  highest  flights,  than 
that  any  other  should  rise  up  to  his  lowest.     Johnson. 

Johnson's  general  remarks  on  this  play  are  just,  except  that 
part  in  which  he  arraigns  the  conduct  of  the  poet,  for  making 
Proteus  say,  that  he  had  only  seen  the  picture  of  Silvia,  when  it 
appears  that  he  had  had  a  personal  interview  with  her.  This, 
however,  is  not  a  blunder  of  Shakspeare's,  but  a  mistake  of 
Johnson's,  who  considers  the  passage  alluded  to  in  a  more  literal 
sense  than  the  author  intended  it.  Sir  Proteus,  it  is  true,  had 
seen  Silvia  for  a  few  moments  ;  but  though  he  could  form  from 
thence  some  idea  of  her  person,  he  was  still  unacquainted  with 
her  temper,  manners,  and  the  qualities  of  her  mind.  He  there- 
fore considers  himself  as  having  seen  her  picture  only. — The 
thought  is  just,  and  elegantly  expressed. — So,  in  The  Scornful 
Lady,  the  elder  Loveless  says  to  her: 

"  I  was  mad  once  when  I  loved  pictures  ; 

"  For  what  are  shape  and  colours  else,  but  pictures  ?" 

M.  Mason. 

Mr.  Ritson's  reply  to  the  objections  of  Mr.  Tyrwhitt,  was  not 
only  too  long  to  appear  in  its  proper  place,  but  was  communicated 
too  late  to  follow  the  note  on  which  it  is  founded.     Steevens. 

Pro.  O,  how  this  spring  of  love  resembleth,  8fC.  pp.  201, 
202,  203. 

The  learned  and  respectable  writer  of  these  observations  is  now 
Unfortunately  no  more  ;  but  his  opinions  will  not  on  that  account 
have  less  influence  with  the  readers  of  Shakspeare :  I  am  there- 
fore still  at  liberty  to  enforce  the  justice  and  propriety  of  my  own 
sentiments,  which  I  trust  I  shall  be  found  to  do  with  all  possible 
delicacy  and  respect  toward  the  memory  and  character  of  the 
truly  ingenious  gentleman  from  whom  1  have  the  misfortune  to 

X2 


308  TWO  GENTLEMEN 

differ.  I  humbly  conceive  that,  upon  more  mature  considera- 
tion, Mr.  Tyrwhitt  would  have  admitted,  that,  if  the  proposed 
method  of  printing  the  words  in  question  were  once  proved  to 
be  right,  it  would  be  of  little  consequence  whether  the  discovery 
had  ever  been  "  adopted  before,"  or  could  "  be  followed  in  the 
pronunciation  of  them,  without  the  help  of  an  entire  new  sys- 
tem of  spelling :"  which,  in  fact,  is  the  very  object  I  mean  to 
contend  for  ;  or  rather  for  a  system  of  spelling,  as  I  am  perfectly 
confident  we  have  none  at  present,  or  at  least  I  have  never  been 
able  to  find  it.  We  are  not  to  regard  the  current  or  fashionable 
orthography  of  the  day,  as  the  result  of  an  enquiry  into  the  sub- 
ject by  men  of  learning  and  genius  ;  but  rather  as  the  mechanical 
or  capricious  efforts  of  writers  and  printers  to  express  by  letters, 
according  to  their  ear,  the  vulgar  speech  of  the  country,  just  as 
travelers  attempt  that  of  Chicksaws  or  Cherokees,  without  the 
assistance  of  grammar,  and  utterly  ignorant  or  regardless  of  con- 
sistency, principle,  or  system.  This  was  the  case  in  Caxton's 
time,  when  a  word  was  spelled  almost  as  many  different  ways 
as  it  contained  letters,  and  is  no  otherwise  at  this  day ;  and, 
perhaps,  the  prejudices  of  education  and  habit,  even  in  minds 
sufficiently  expanded  and  vigorous  on  other  subjects,  will  always 
prevent  a  reform,  which  it  were  to  be  wished  was  necessary  to 
objects  of  no  higher  importance.  Whether  what  I  call  the  right 
method  of  printing  these  words  be  "  such  as  was  never  adopted 
before  by  any  mortal,"  or  not,  does  not  seem  of  much  conse- 
quence ;  for,  reasoning  from  principle  and  not  precedent,  I  am 
by  no  means  anxious  to  avail  myself  of  the  inconsistencies  of  an 
age  in  which  even  scholars  were  not  always  agreed  in  the  ortho- 
graphy of  their  own  name:  a  sufficient  number  of  instances 
will,  however,  occur  in  the  course  of  this  note  to  shew  that  the 
remark  was  not  made  with  its  author's  usual  deliberation  ;  which 
I  am  the  rather  disposed  to  believe,  from  his  conceiving  that  this 
method  could  not  "  be  followed  in  pronunciation ;"  since  were 
it  universally  adopted,  pronunciation  neither  would  nor  possibly 
could  be  affected  by  it  in  any  degree  whatever.  "  Fanciful  and 
unfounded"  too  as  my  "  supposed  canon"  may  be,  I  find  it  laid 
down  in  Ben  Jonson's  Grammar,  which  expressly  says  that  "  the 
second  and  third  person  singular  of  the  present  are  made  of  the 
firstby  adding  est  and  eth,which  last  is  sometimes  shortened  intos." 
And  afterward,  speaking  of  the  first  conjugation,  he  tells  us  that 
*'  it  fetcheth  the  time  past  from  the  present  by  adding  ed."  I  shall 
have  reason  to  think  myself  peculiarly  unfortunate,  ifj  after  my 
hypothesis  is  "  allowed  in  its  utmost  extent,"  it  will  not  prove 
what  it  was  principally  formed  to  do,  viz.  that  Shakspeare  has 
not  taken  a  liberty  in  extending  certain  words  to  suit  the  purpose 
of  his  metre.     But,  surely,  if  I  prove  that  he  has  only  given 


OF  VERONA.  309 

those  words  as  they  ought  to  be  written,  I  prove  the  whole  of 
my  position,  which  should  cease,  of  course,  to  be  termed  or  con- 
sidered an  hypothesis.  A  mathematical  problem  may,  at  first 
sight,  appear  "  fanciful  and  unfounded"  to  the  ablest  mathema- 
tician, but  his  assent  is  ensured  by  its  demonstration.  I  may 
safely  admit  that  the  words  in  question  are  "  more  frequently 
used"  by  our  author's  contemporaries,  and  by  himself,  "  with- 
out the  additional  syllable ;"  as  this  will  only  shew  that  his  con- 
temporaries and  himself  have  "  more  frequently"  taken  the 
liberty  of  shortening  those  words,  than  written  them  at  length. 
Such  a  word  as  alarm 'd,  for  instance,  is  generally,  perhaps  con- 
stantly, used  by  poets  as  a  dissyllable  ;  and  yet,  if  we  found  it 
given  with  its  full  power  a-larm-ed,  we  should  scarcely  say  that 
the  writer  had  taken  the  liberty  of  lengthening  it  a  syllable.  Thus 
too  the  word  diamond  is  usually  spoken  as  if  two  syllables,  but 
it  is  certainly  three,  and  is  so  properly  given  by  Shakspeare : 

"  Sir,  I  must  have  that  diamond  from  you." 
Hadst  is  now  a  monosyllable,  but  did  our  author  therefore  take  a 
liberty  in  writing  Hadest? 

"  Makes  ill  deeds  done.     Hadest  thou  not  been  by." 
Not  only  this  word,  but  mayest,  doest,  doeth,  and  the  like 
are  uniformly  printed  in  the  bible  as  dissyllables.     Does  Butler, 
to  serve  his  rhyme,  stretch  out  the  word  brethren  in  the  following 
passage  ? 

?'  And  fierce  auxiliary  men, 

"  That  came  to  aid  their  brethren" 
Or  does  he  not  rather  give  it,  as  he  found  it  pronounced,  and 
as  it  ought  to  be  printed  ?     The  word  idly  is  still  more  to  the 
purpose :  It  is  at  present  a  dissyllable ;  what  it  was  in  Shak- 
speare's  time  may  appear  from  his  Comedy  of  Errors,  1623  : 

"  God  helpe  poore  soules  how  idlely  doe  they  talk  :" 
or,  indeed,  from  any  other  passage  in  that  or  the  next  edition, 
being  constantly  printed  as  a  trisyllable.     So,  again,  in  Spenser's 
Fairy  Queene,  l6og,  l6ll  : 

"  Both  staring  fierce,  and  holding  idlely-" 
And  this  orthography,  which  at  once  illustrates  and  supports  my 
system,  appears  in  Shelton's  Don  Quixote,  Sir  T.  Smith's  Com- 
monwealth, Goulart's  Histories,  Holinshcd's  Chronicle,  and 
numberless  other  books  ;  and  consequently  proves  that  the  word 
was  not  stretched  out  by  Spenser  to  suit  the  purpose  of  his  metre, 
though  I  am  aware  that  it  is  misspelled  idely  in  the  first  edition, 
which  is  less  correctly  printed.  But  the  true  and  established 
spelling  might  have  led  Mr.  Seward  and  Dr.  Farmer  to  a  better 
reading  than  gentily,  in  the  following  line  of  Beaumont  and 
Fletcher : 

"  For  when  the  west  wind  courts  her  gently."' 


a 


10  TWO  GENTLEMEN 


Proved,  I  suppose,  is  rarety  found  a  dissyllable  in  poetry,  if 
even  pronounced  as  one  in  prose  ;  but,  in  the  Articles  of  Reli- 
gion, Oxford,  1728,  it  is  spelled  and  divided  after  my  own 
heart :  "  — whatsoever  is  not  read  therein,  nor  may  be  prove-ed 
thereby,  &c.''  The  words  observation  and  affection  are  usually 
pronounced,  the  one- as  consisting  of  three,  the  other  of  four 
syllables,  but  each  of  them  is  in  reality  a  syllable  longer,  and  is 
so  properly  given  by  our  author : 

"  With  observation,  the  which  he  vents  :** 

"  Yet  have  I  fierce  affections,  and  think.'' 
Examples,  indeed,  of  this  nature  would  be  endless ;  I  shall 
therefore  content  myself  with  producing  one  more,  from  the  old 
ballad  of  The  Children  in  the  Wood  : 

"  You  that  executors  be  made, 
"  And  overseers  eke." 
In  this  passage  the  word  overseers  is  evidently  and  properly 
used  as  a  quadrisyllable  ;  and,  in  one  black  letter  copy  of  the 
ballad,  is  accurately  printed  as  such,  overseeers  ;  which,  if  Shak- 
speare's  orthography  should  ever  be  an  editor's  object,  may  serve 
as  a  guide  for  the  regulation  of  the  following  line  ; 

"  That  high  all-seer  that  I  dallied  with." 
Of  the  words  quoted  by  Mr.  Tyrwhitt,  as  instances  of  the 
liberty  supposed  to  have  been  taken  by  Shakspeare,  those  which 
I  admit  to  be  properly  a  syllable  shorter,  certainly  obtained  the 
same  pronunciation  in  the  age  of  this  author  which  he  has 
annexed  to  them.  Thus,  country,  monstrous,  remembrance, 
assembly,  were  not  only  pronounced,  in  his  time,  the  two  first 
as  three,  the  other  as  four  syllables,  but  are  so  still ;  and  the 
reason,  to  borrow  Mr.  Tyrwhitt's  words,  "  must  be  obvious  to 
every  one  who  can  pronounce  the  language."  Henry  was  not 
only  usually  pronounced,  (as  indeed  it  is  at  present,)  but  fre- 
quently written  as  a  trisyllable  ;  even  in  prose.  Thus,  in  Dr. 
Hutton's  Discourse  on  the  Antiquities  qf  Oxford,  at  the  end  of 
Hearne's  Textus  Rqffensis  :  "  King  Henery  the  eights  colledge." 
See,  upon  this  subject,  Wallisii  Grammatica,  p.  57.  That  Mr. 
Tyrwhitt  should  have  treated  the  words  angry,  humbler,  nobler, 
used  as  trisyllables,  among  those  which  could  "  receive  no  sup- 
port from  the  supposed  canon,"  must  have  been  owing  to  the 
obscure  or  imperfect  manner  in  which  I  attempted  to  explain  it ; 
as  these  are,  unluckily,  some  of  the  identical  instances  which 
the  canon,  if  a  canon  it  must  be,  is  purposely  made  to  support, 
or,  rather,  by  which  it  is  to  be  supported  :  an  additional  proof 
that  Mr.  Tyrwhitt,  though  he  might  think  it  proper  to  reprobate 
my  doctrine  as  "  fanciful  and  unfounded,"  did  not  give  himself 
the  trouble  to  understand  it.  This  canon,  in  short,  is  nothing 
but  a  most  plain  and  simple  rule  of  English  grammar,  which 


OF  VERONA.  311 

has,  in  substance,  at  least,  been  repeated  over  and  oyer : — Every 
word,  compounded  upon  the  principles  of  the  English  or  Saxon 
language,  always  preserves  its  roots  unchanged :  a  rule  which, 
like  all  others,  may  be  liable  to  exceptions,  but  I  am  aware  of 
none  at  present.     Thus  humbler  and  nobler,  for  instance,  are 
composed  of  the  adjectives  humble,  noble,  and  er,  the  sign  of 
the  comparative  degree ;  angry,  of  the  noun  anger,  and  y  the 
Saxon  adjective  termination  15.     In  the  use  of  all  these,  as  tri- 
syllables, Shakspeare  is  most  correct ;  and  that  he  is  no  less  so 
in  England,  which  used  to  be  pronounced  as  three  syllables,  and 
is  so  still,  indeed,  by  those  who  do  not  acquire  the  pronunciation 
of  their  mother  tongue  from  the  books  of  purblind  pedants,  who 
want  themselves  the  instruction  they  pretend  to  give,  will  be 
evident  from  the  etymology  and  division  of  the  word,  the  cri- 
teria or  touchstones  of  orthography.     Now,  let  us  divide  Eng- 
land as  we  please,  or  as  we  can,  we  shall  produce  neither  its 
roots  nor  its  meaning  ;  for  what  can  one  make  of  the  land  of  the 
Engs  or  the  gland  of  the  Ens  ?  but  write  it  as  it  ought  to  be 
written,  and  divide  it  as  it  ought  to  be  divided,  En-gle-land,  (in- 
deed it  will  divide  itself,  for  there  is  no  other  way, )  and  you  will 
have  the  sense  and  derivation  of  the  word,  as  well  as  the  origin 
of  the  nation,  at  first  sight ;  from  the  Saxon  8:15k  lanfea,  the 
land  or  country  of  the  Engles  or  Angles  :  just  as  Scotland,  Ire- 
land, Finland,  Lapland,  which  neither  ignorance  nor  pedantry 
has  been  able  to  corrupt,  design  the  country  of  the  Scot,  the  Irie, 
the  Fin,  and  the  Lap ;  and  yet,  in  spite  of  all  sense  and  reason, 
about  half  the  words  in  the  language  are  in  the  same  aukward 
and  absurd  predicament,  than  which  nothing  can  be  more  dis- 
torted and  unnatural ;  as,  I  am  confident  it  must  have  appeared 
to  Mr.  Tyrwhitt,  had  he  voluntarily  turned  his  attention  that 
way,  or  actually  attempted,  what  he  hastily  thought  would  be 
very  easy,  to  shew  that  this  "  supposed  canon  was  quite  fanciful 
and  unfounded ;''  or,  in  short,  as  it  will  appear  to  any  person, 
who  tries  to  subject  the  language  to  the  rules  of  syllabication,  or 
in  plainer  English  to  spell  his  words;  a  task  which, however  use- 
ful, and  even  necessary,  no  Dictionary-maker  has  ever  dared  to 
attempt,  or,  at  least,  found  it  possible  to  execute.     Indeed,  the 
same  kind  of  objection  which  Mr.  Tyrwhitt  has  made  to  my  sys- 
tem, might  be,  and,  no  doubt,  has,  by  superficial  readers,  been 
frequently  made  to  his  own,  of  inserting  the  final  syllable  in 
the  genitives  Peneus's,  Theseus' s,  Venus' s,  ox's,  ass's,  St.  James's, 
Thomas's,  Wallis's,  &c.  and  printing,  as  he  has  done,  Peneuses, 
Theseuses,  Venuses,  oxes,  asses,  St.  Jameses,  Thomases,  JVallises  ; 
an  innovation  neither  less  singular,  nor  more  just,  than  the  one 
I  am  contending  for,  in  the  conjugation,  or  use  in  composition,  of 
resemble,  wrestle,  whistle,  tickle,  &c.     But,  as  I  am  conscious 


312  TWO  GENTLEMEN,  &c. 

that  I  burn  day-light,  so  my  readers  are  probably  of  opinion 
that  the  game  is  not  worth  the  candle :  I  shall,  therefore,  take 
the  hint ;  and,  to  shew  how  much  or  little  one  would  have  oc- 
casion, in  adopting  my  system,  to  deviate  from  the  orthography 
at  present  in  use,  I  beg  leave,  in  the  few  words  I  add,  to  intro- 
duce that  which,  as  a  considerable  easy  and  lasting  improvement, 
I  wish  to  see  established.  Tedious,  then,  as  my  note  has  be- 
come, and  imperfect  as  I  am  obligeed  to  leave  it,  I  flatter  my- 
self I  have  completely  justify ed  this  divineest  of  authors  from  the 
il  founded  charge  of  racking  his  words,  as  the  tyrant  did  his 
captives.  I  hope  too  I  have,  at  the  same  lime,  made  it  appear 
that  there  is  something  radically  defective  and  erroneous  in  the 
vulgar  methods  of  speling,  or  rather  mispeling ;  which  requires 
correction.  A  lexicographer  of  eminence  and  abilitys  wil  have 
it  very  much  in  his  power  to  introduce  a  systematical  reform, 
which,  once  established,  would  remain  unvaryed  and  invariable 
as  long  as  the  language  endureed.  This  Dr.  Johnson  might  have 
had  the  honour  of;  but,  learned  and  eloquent  as  he  was,  I  must 
be  permited  to  think  that  a  profound  knowlege  of  the  etymo- 
logy, principles,  and  formation  of  the  language  he  undertook  to 
explain,  was  not  in  the  number  of  those  many  excellencys  for 
which  he  will  be  long  and  deserveedly  admireed.     Ritson. 


MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S 


DREAM.* 


*  A  Midsummer-Night's  Dream.]  This  play  was  entered 
at  Stationers'  Hall,  Oct.  8,  1600,  by  Thomas  Fisher.  It  is  pro- 
bable that  the  hint  for  it  was  received  from  Chaucer's  Knight's 
Tale. 

There  is  an  old  black  letter  pamphlet  by  W.  Bettie,  called 
Titana  and  Theseus,  entered  at  Stationers'  Hall,  in  1608  ;  but 
Shakspeare  has  taken  no  hints  from  it.  Titania  is  also  the  name 
of  the  Queen  of  the  Fairies  in  Decker's  Whore  of  Babylon, 
1607-     Steevens. 

The  Midsummer-Night's  Dream  I  suppose  to  have  been  writ- 
ten in  1592.  See  An  Attempt  to  ascertain  the  Order  of  Shak- 
speare's  Plays,  Vol.  II.    Malone. 


PERSONS  REPRESENTED.1 


Theseus,  Duke  of  Athens. 

Egeus,  Father  to  Hermia. 

Lysander,    >    .    7  -.7  tj 

tV       ,  .  '    >  in  love  with  Hermia. 

Demetrius, ) 

Philostrate,  Master  of  the  Revels  to  Theseus. 

Quince,  the  Carpenter. 

Snug,  the  Joiner. 

Bottom,  the  Weaver. 

Flute,  the  Bellows-mender. 

Snout,  tlie  Tinker. 

Starveling,  the  Tailor. 

Hippolyta,  Queen  of  the  Amazons,   betrothed   to 

Theseus. 
Hermia,  Daughter  to  Egeus,  in  love  with  Lysander. 
Helena,  in  love  with  Demetrius. 

Oberon,  King  of  the  Fairies. 
Titania,  Queen  qf  the  Fairies. 
Puck,  or  Robin-goodfellow,  a  Fairy. 
Peas-blossom,  "\ 
Cobweb,  f       .  . 

Moth,  >  Fames. 

Mustard-seed,^ 
Pyramus,         <v 

11/  ij   ^  I  Characters  in  the  Interlude  per- 

Moonshine,      \     >W  &  the  Clowns. 
Lion,  y 

Other  Fairies  attending  their  King  and  Queen. 
Attendants  on  Theseus  and  Hippolyta. 

SCENE,  Athens,  and  a  Wood  not  far  from  it. 

1  The  enumeration  of  persons  was  first  made  by  Mr.  Rowe. 

Steevens. 


MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  DREAM. 


ACT  I.    SCENE  I. 

Athens.     A  Room  in  the  Palace  of  Theseus. 

Enter  Theseus,   Hippolyta,   Philostrate,   and 

Attendants. 

The.  Now,  fair  Hippolyta,  our  nuptial  hour 
Draws  on  apace  ;  four  happy  days  bring  in 
Another  moon  :  but,  oh,  methinks,  how  slow 
This  old  moon  wanes  !  she  lingers  my  desires, 
Like  to  a  step-dame,  or  a  dowager, 
Long  withering  out  a  young  man's  revenue.2 

Hip.  Four  days  will  quickly  steep  themselves  in 
nights  ; 3 


4  Like  to  a  step-dame,  or  a  dowager, 
Long  withering  out  a  young  man's  revenue.]  The  authen- 
ticity of  this  reading  having  been  questioned  by  Dr.  Warburton, 
1  shall  exemplify  it  from  Chapman's  translation  of  the  4th  Book 
of  Homer : 

" there  the  goodly  plant  lies  mtkering  out  his  grace." 

Steevens. 

" Ut  piget  annus 

"  Pupil/is,  quos  dura  premit  custodia  matrum, 

"  Sic  mihi  tarda  jluunt  ingrataque  tcmpora."     Hor. 

Malone. 

3— — steep  themselves  in  nights;']  So,  in  Cymbelme,  Act  V. 


sc.  iv  : 


" neither  deserve, 

"  And  yet  are  steep'd  in  favours."     Steevens. 


3 1 8  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S         act  j. 

Four  nights  will  quickly  dream  away  the  time ; 
And  then  the  moon,  like  to  a  silver  bow 
New  bent4  in  heaven,  shall  behold  the  night 
Of  our  solemnities. 

The.  Go,  Philostrate, 

Stir  up  the  Athenian  youth  to  merriments ; 
Awake  the  pert  and  nimble  spirit  of  mirth  ; 
Turn  melancholy  forth  to  funerals, 
The  pale  companion  is  not  for  our  pomp. — 

\_Exit  Philostrate. 
Hippolyta,  I  woo'd  thee  with  my  sword, 
And  won  thy  love,  doing  thee  injuries  j 
But  I  will  wed  thee  in  another  key, 
With  pomp,  with  triumph,  and  with  revelling.5 


4  New  bent  — ]  The  old  copies  read — Noiv  bent.  Corrected 
by  Mr.  Rovve.    Malone. 

*  With  pomp,  with  triumph,  and  with  revelling.']  By  triumph, 
as  Mr.  Warton  has  observed  in  his  late  edition  of  Milton's  Poems, 
p.  56,  we  are  to  understand  shows,  such  as  masks,  revels,  &c. 
So,  again  in  King  Henri/  VI.  P.  Ill : 

"  And  now  what  rests,  but  that  we  spend  the  time 
"  With  stately  triumphs,  mirthful  comick  shows, 
"  Such  as  bent  the  pleasures  of  the  court?" 
Again,  in  the  preface  to  Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  1624  : 
"  Now  come  tidings  of  weddings,  maskings,  mummeries,  enter- 
tainments, trophies,  triumphs,  revels,  sports,  playes."     Jonson, 
as  the  same  gentleman  observes,  in  the  title  of  his  masque  called 
Love's  Triumph  through  Callipolis,  by  triumph  seems  to  have 
meant  a  grand  procession ;  and  in  one  of  the  stage-directions,  it 
is  said,  "  the  triumph  is  seen  far  off."     Malone. 

Thus  also,  (and  more  satisfactorily,)  in  the  Duke  of  Anjou's 
Entertainment  at  Antwerp,  15bl :  "  Yet  notwithstanding,  their 
triumphes  [those  of  the  Romans]  have  so  borne  the  bell  above 
all  the  rest,  that  the  word  triumphing,  which  commeth  thereof, 

hath  beene  applied  to  all  high,  great,  and  statelie  dooings." 

Steevens. 


sc.  i.  DREAM.  319 

Enter  Egeus,   Hermia,   Lysander,   and  Deme- 
trius. 

Ege.  Happy  be  Theseus,  our  renowned  duke  !6 

The.  Thanks,  good  Egeus :  What's  the  news 
with  thee  ? 

Ege.  Full  of  vexation  come  I,  with  complaint 
Against  my  child,  my  daughter  Hermia. — 
Stand  forth,  Demetrius  ; — My  noble  lord, 
This  man  hath  my  consent  to  marry  her : — 
Stand  forth,  Lysander  ; — and,  my  gracious  duke, 
This  hath  bewitch'd7  the  bosom  of  my  child: 

6 our   renoivned  duke !]    Thus,  in   Chaucer's   Knight's 

Tale  ; 

"  Whilom  as  olde  stories  tellen  us, 

"  There  was  a  Duk  that  highte  Theseus, 

"  Of  Athenes  he  was  lord  and  governour,"  &c. 

Mr.  Tyrwhitt's  edit.  v.  S6l . 
Lidgate  too,  the  monk  of  Bury,  in  his  translation  of  the  Tra- 
gedies of  John  Bochas,  calls  him  by  the  same  title,  ch.  xii.  1.  21 : 
"  Duke  Theseus  had  the  victorye." 
Creon,  in  the  tragedy  of  Jocasta,  translated  from  Euripides  in 
15oo,  is  called  Duke  Creon. 
So  likewise  Skelton : 

"  Not  like  Duke  Hamilcar, 
"  Nor  like  Duke  Asdruball." 
Stanyhurst,  in  his  translation  of  Virgil,   calls  ./Eneas,  Duke 
./Eneas;  and  in  Heywood's  Iron  Age,  Part  II.  1632,  Ajax  is 
styled  Duke  Ajax,   Palamedes,  Duke  Palamedes,  and  Nestor, 
Duke  Nestor,  &c. 

Our  version  of  the  Bible  exhibits  a  similar  misapplication  of  a 
modern  title  ;  for  in  Daniel  iii.  2,  Nebuchadnezzar,  King  of 
Babylon,  sends  out  a  summons  to  the  Sheriffs  of  his  provinces. 

Steevens. 
See  also  the  1st  Book  of  The  Chronicles,  ch.  i.  v.  51,  &  seqq. 
a  list  of  the  Dukes  of  Edom.     Harris. 

7  This  hath  bewitch,' d — ]  The  old  copies  read — This  man  hath 
bewitch'd — .  The  emendation  was  made  for  the  sake  of  the  me- 
tre, by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio.  It  is  very  probable  that  the 
compositor  caught  the  word  man  from  the  line  above.  Malone. 


S20  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S         acti. 

Thou,  thou,  Lysander,  thou  hast  given  her  rhymes, 

And  interchang'd  love-tokens  with  my  child : 

Thou  hast  by  moon-light  at  her  window  sung, 

With  feigning  voice,  verses  of  feigning  love  j 

And  stol'n  the  impression  of  her  fantasy 

With  bracelets  of  thy  hair,  rings,  gawds,8  conceits, 

Knacks,  trifles,  nosegays,  sweet-meats ;  messengers 

Of  strong  prevailment  in  unharden'd  youth : 

With  cunning  hast  thou  fllch'd  my  daughter's  heart; 

Turn'd  her  obedience,  which  is  due  to  me, 

To  stubborn  harshness  : — And,  my  gracious  duke, 

Be  it  so  she  will  not  here  before  your  grace 

Consent  to  marry  with  Demetrius, 

I  beg  the  ancient  privilege  of  Athens ; 

As  she  is  mine,  I  may  dispose  of  her : 

Which  shall  be  either  to  this  gentleman, 

Or  to  her  death  ;  according  to  our  law,9 

Immediately  provided  in  that  case.1 


8 gawds,]  i.  e.  baubles,  toys,  trifles.     Our  author  has  the 

word  frequently.     See  King  John,  Act  III.  sc.  v. 
Again,  in  Appius  and  Virginia,  15/6: 
"  When  gain  is  no  grandsier, 
"  And  gaudes  not  set  by,"  &c. 
Again,  in  Drayton's  Mooncalf; 

" and  in  her  lap 

"  A  sort  of  paper  puppets,  gauds  and  toys." 
The  Rev.  Mr.  Lambe,  in  his  notes  on  the  ancient  metrical 
history  of  The  Battle  of  Flodden,  observes  that  a  gawd  is  a  child's 
toy,  and  that  the  children  in  the  North  call  their  play-things 
govodys,  and  their  baby-house  a  gotvdy-house.     Steevens. 

9  Or  to  her  death  ;  according  to  our  law,"]  By  a  law  of  Solon's, 
parents  had  an  absolute  power  of  life  and  death  over  their  chil- 
dren. So  it  suited  the  poet's  purpose  well  enough,  to  suppose 
the  Athenians  had  it  before.: — Or  perhaps  he  neither  thought 
nor  knew  any  thing  of  the  matter.     Warburton. 

1  Immediately  provided  in  that  case.~\  Shakspeare  is  grievously 
suspected  of  having  been  placed,  while  a  boy,  in  an  attorney's 
office.  The  line  before  us  has  an  undoubted  smack  of  legal 
common-place.     Poetry  disclaims  it.     Steevens. 


SB.  i.  DREAM.  321 

The.  What  say  you,  Hermia?  be  advis'd,  fair 
maid : 
To  you  your  father  should  be  as  a  god  ; 
One  that  compos'd  your  beauties  ;  yea,  and  one 
To  whom  you  are  but  as  a  form  in  wax, 
By  him  imprinted,  and  within  his  power 
To  leave  the  figure,  or  disfigure  it.2 
Demetrius  is  a  worthy  gentleman. 

Her.  So  is  Lysander. 

The.  In  himself  he  is  : 

But,  in  this  kind,  wanting  your  father's  voice, 
The  other  must  be  held  the  worthier. 

Her.  I  would,  my  father  look'd  but  with  my  eyes. 

The.  Rather  your  eyes  must  with  his  j  udgement 
look. 

Her.  I  do  entreat  your  grace  to  pardon  me. 
I  know  not  by  what  power  I  am  made  bold ; 
Nor  how  it  may  concern  my  modesty, 
In  such  a  presence  here,  to  plead  my  thoughts : 
But  I  beseech  your  grace  that  I  may  know 
The  worst  that  may  befal  me  in  this  case, 
If  I  refuse  to  wed  Demetrius. 

The.  Either  to  die  the  death,3  or  to  abjure 
For  ever  the  society  of  men. 
Therefore,  fair  Hermia,  question  your  desires, 
Know  of  your  youth,4  examine  well  your  blood, 

To  leave  thejigure,  or  disfigure  it.']  The  sense  is,  you  oive 
to  your  father  a  being  which  he  may  at  pleasure  continue  or 
destroy.     Johnson. 

3  to  die  the   death,']     So,    in   the  second  part   of  The 

Downfall  of  Robert  Earl  of  Huntingdon,  1601  : 

"  We  will,  my  liege,  else  let  us  die  the  death" 
See  notes  on  Measure  for  Measure,  Act  II.  sc.  iv.  Steevens. 

4  Knoiv  of  your  youth,]     Bring  your   youth   to  the  question. 
Consider  your  youth.     Johnson. 

VOL.   IV.  Y 


.322  .MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  act  i. 

Whether,  if  you  yield  not  to  your  father's  choice, 

You  can  endure  the  livery  of  a  nun  ; 

For  aye 5  to  be  in  shady  cloister  mew'd, 

To  live  a  barren  sister  all  your  life, 

Chanting  faint  hymns  to  the  cold  fruitless  moon. 

Thrice  blessed  they,  that  master  so  their  blood, 

To  undergo  such  maiden  pilgrimage  : 

But  earthlier  happy  is  the  rose  distill'd,6 

Than  that,  which,  withering  on  the  virgin  thorn, 

Grows,  lives,  and  dies,  in  single  blessedness. 

Her.  So  will  I  grow,  so  live,  so  die,  my  lord, 
Ere  I  will  yield  my  virgin  patent  up 
Unto  his  lordship,  whose  unwished  yoke7 
My  soul  consents  not  to  give  sovereignty. 


5  For  aye  — ]  i.  e.  for  ever.  So,  in  K.  Edward  II.  by  Mar- 
lowe, 1622: 

"  And  sit  for  aye  enthronized  in  heaven."     Steevens. 

5  But  earthlier  happy  is  the  rose  distill'd,]  Thus  all  the  co- 
pies :  yet  earthlier  is  so  harsh  a  word,  and  earthlier  happy,  for 
happier  earthly,  a  mode  of  speech  so  unusual,  that  I  wonder 
none  of  the  editors  have  proposed  earlier  happy.     Johnson. 

It  has  since  been  observed,  that  Mr.  Pope  did  propose  earlier. 
We  might  read — earthly  happy. 

the  rose  distill'd,]   So,  in  Lyly's  Midas,  1592:  "  — You 

bee  all  young  and  faire,  endeavour  to  bee  wise  and  vertuous ; 
that  when,  like  roses,  you  shall  fall  from  the  stalke,  you  may  be 
gathered,  and  put  to  the  still." 

This  image,  however,  must  have  been  generally  obvious,  as 
in  Shakspeare's  time  the  distillation  of  rose  water  was  a  common 
process  in  all  families.     Steevens. 

This  is  a  thought  in  which  Shakspeare  seems  to  have  much 
delighted.  We  meet  with  it  more  than  once  in  his  Sonnets.  See 
5th,  6th,  and  54th  Sonnet.     Malone. 

7  ivhose  unwished  yoke — ]  Thus  both   the  quartos  16OO, 

and  the  folio  1(523.     The  second  folio  reads — 

to  whose  unwished  yoke — .     Steevens. 

Dele  to,  and  for  tarnish' d  r.  unwished. — Though  I  have  been 
in  general  extremely  careful  not  to  admit  into  my  text  any  of 


sc.  i.  DREAM.  323 

The.  Take  time  to  pause :  and,  by  the  next 
new  moon, 
(The  sealing-day  betwixt  my  love  and  me, 
For  everlasting  bond  of  fellowship,) 
Upon  that  day  either  prepare  to  die, 
For  disobedience  to  your  father's  will  ; 
Or  else,  to  wed  Demetrius,  as  he  would  : 
Or  on  Diana's  altar  to  protest, 
For  aye,  austerity  and  single  life. 

Dem.  Relent,  sweet  Hermia ; — And,  Lysander, 
yield 
Thy  crazed  title  to  my  certain  right. 

Lys.  You  have  her  father's  love,  Demetrius  ; 
Let  me  have  Hermia's  :  do  you  marry  him.8 


the  innovations  made  by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio,  from  ig- 
norance of  our  poet's  language  or  metre,  my  caution  was  here 
over-watched  ;  and  I  printed  the  above  lines  as  exhibited  by  that 
and  all  the  subsequent  editors,  of  which  the  reader  was  apprized 
in  a  note.  The  old  copies  should  have  been  adhered  to,  in  which 
they  appear  thus : 

lire  1 Hill  yield  my  virgin  patent  up 

Unto  his  lordship,  n-ho.:e  unwished  yoke 

My  soul  consents  not  to  give  sovereignty. 
i.  e.  to  give  sovereignty  to.     See  various  instances  of  this  kind  of 
phraseology  in  a  note  on  Cymbeline,  scene  the  last.  The  change 
was  certainly  made  by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio,  from  his 
ignorance  of  Shakpeare's  phraseology.     Malonk. 

I  have  adopted  the  present  elliptical  reading,  because  it  not 
only  renders  the  line  smoother,  but  serves  to  exclude  the  dis- 
gusting recurrence  of  the  preposition — to ;  and  yet  if  the  au- 
thority of  the  first  folio  had  not  been  supported  by  the  quartos, 
&C  I  should  have  preferred  the  more  regular  phraseology  of 
the  folio  i6'J2.     Steevens. 

8    Youh  father's  love,  Demel riu  i  ; 

Let  me  have  Hermia's:  do  you  marry  him.']  I  suspect  that 
Shakspeare  wrote : 

Let  me  have  Hermia}  do  you  marry  him.     Tyrwhitt. 

\   2 


j<24  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S         act  i. 

Ege.  Scornful  Lysander !  true,  he  hath  my  love ; 
And  what  is  mine  my  love  shall  render  him ; 
And  she  is  mine  ;  and  all  my  right  of  her 
I  do  estate  unto  Demetrius. 

Lys.  I  am,  my  lord,  as  well  deriv'd  as  he, 
As  well  possessed  ;  my  love  is  more  than  his  ; 
My  fortunes  every  way  as  fairly  rank'd, 
If  not  with  vantage,  as  Demetrius' ; 
And,  which  is  more  than  all  these  boasts  can  be, 
I  am  belov'd  of  beauteous  Hermia  : 
Why  should  not  I  then  prosecute  my  right  ? 
Demetrius,  I'll  avouch  it  to  his  head, 
Made  love  to  Nedar's  daughter,  Helena, 
And  won  her  soul ;  and  she,  sweet  lady,  dotes, 
Devoutly  dotes,  dotes  in  idolatry, 
Upon  this  spotted  °  and  inconstant  man. 

The.  I  must  confess,  that  I  have  heard  so  much, 
And  with  Demetriusthoughttohave  spoke  thereof  \ 
But,  being  over-full  of  self-aflairs, 
My  mind  did  lose  it. — But,  Demetrius,  come ; 
And  come,  Egeus ;  you  shall  go  with  me, 
I  have  some  private  schooling  for  you  both. — 
For  you,  fair  Hermia,  look  you  arm  yourself 
To  fit  your  fancies  to  your  father's  will ; 
Or  else  the  law  of  Athens  yields  you  up 
(Which  by  no  means  we  may  extenuate,) 
To  death,  or  to  a  vow  of  single  life. — 
Come,  my  Hippolyta  ;  What  cheer,  my  love  ? — 
Demetrius,  and  Egeus,  go  along : 
I  must  employ  you  in  some  business 

So,  in  King  Lear : 

"  Let  pride  which  she  calls  plainness  marry  her." 

Steevens. 

1 spotted  — ]  As  spotless  is  innocent,  so  spotted  is  wicked. 

Johnson. 


sc.  i.  DREAM.  32.5 

Against  our  nuptial ;  and  confer  with  you 
Of  something  nearly  that  concerns  yourselves. 

Ege.  With  duty,  and  desire  we  follow  you. 

{Exeunt  Thes.  Hip.  Ege.  Dem.  and  train, 

Lys.  How  now,  my  love  ?  Why  is  your  cheek  so 
pale  ? 
How  chance  the  roses  there  do  fade  so  fast  ? 

Her.  Belike,  for  want  of  rain ;  which  I  could 
well 
Beteem  them1  from  the  tempest  of  mine  eyes. 

Lys.  Ah  me !  for  aught  that  ever  I  could  read, 
Could  ever  hear  by  tale  or  history, 
The  course  of  true  love2  never  did  run  smooth  : 
But,  either  it  was  different  in  blood ; 

Her.  O  cross!  too  high  to  be  enthrall'd  to  low! 3 


1  Beteem  them  — ]  Give  them,  bestow  upon  them.  The  word 
is  used  by  Spenser.     Johnson. 

"  So  would  I,  said  th'  enchanter,  glad  and  fain 
"  Beteem  to  you  his  sword,  you  to  defend."  Fairy  Queen. 
Again,  in  The  Case  is  Altered.     How?     Ask  Dalio  and  Milo, 
1605: 

"  I  could  betccme  her  a  better  match." 
But  I  rather  think  that  to  beteem,  in  this  place,  signifies   (as 
in  the  northern  counties)  to  pour  out ;  from  tommcr,  Danish. 

Stkevens. 

The  course  of  true  love — ]  This  passage  seems  to  have  been 
imitated  by  Milton.     Para-       Lost,  B.  X. — 89O.  &  seqq. 

Malone; 

■too  high  to  be  1  Td  to  low  !]  Love — po  s  all 


the  editions,  but  carries  no  just  meaning  in  it.  Nor  was  1  Icrmia 
displeas'd  at  being  in  love  ;  but  regrets  the  inconveniences  that 
generally  attend  the  passion;  either,  the  parties  are  dispropor- 
tioned,  in  degree  of  blood  and  quality ;  or  unequal,  in  respect 
of  years ;  or  brought  together  by  the  appointment  of  friends, 
and  not  by  their  own  choice.  These  are  the  complaints  repre- 
sented by  Lysander;  and  Hermia,  to  answer  to  the  iirst,  as  she 
has  done  to  the  other  two,  must  necessarily  say: 
O  cross !  too  high  to  be  enthralPd  to  low  ! 


326  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S        act  I. 

Lys.  Or  else  misgraffed,  in  respect  of  years  ; 

Her.  O  spite  !  too  old  to  be  engag'd  to  young 

Lys.  Or  else  it  stood  upon  the  choice  of  friends 

Her.  O  hell !  to  choose  love  by  another's  eye 

Lys.  Or,  if  there  were  a  sympathy  in  choice, 
War,  death,  or  sickness  did  lay  siege  to  it ; 
Making  it  momentany  as  a  sound,4    . 
Swift  as  a  shadow,  short  as  any  dream ; 
Brief  as  the  lightning  in  the  coliied  night,5 
That,  in  a  spleen,  unfolds  both  heaven  and  earth, 
And  ere  a  man  hath  power  to  say, — Behold ! 
The  jaws  of  darkness  do  devour  it  up  : 6 

So  the  antithesis  is  kept  up  in  the  terms  ;  and  so  she  is  made 
to  condole  the  disproportion  of  blood  and  quality  in  lovers. 

Theobald. 

The  emendation  is  fully  supported,  not  only  by  the  tenour  of 
the  preceding  lines,  but  by  a  passage  in  our  author's  Venus  and 
Adonis,  in  which  the  former  predicts  that  the  course  of  love 
never  shall  run  smooth  : 

"  Sorrow  on  love  hereafter  shall  attend, 

"  Ne'er  settled  equally,  too  high,  or  /ou>,"  &c. 

Malone. 

4  momentany  as  a  sound,']  Thus  the  quartos.     The  first 

folio  reads — momentary.     Momentany  (says  Dr.  Johnson)  is  the 
old  and  proper  word.     Steevens. 

"  that  short  momentany  rage," — is   an   expression    of 

Dryden.     Henley. 

4  Brief  as  the  lightning  in  the  coliied  night,']  Coliied,  i.  e. 
black,  smutted  with  coal,  a  word  still  used  in  the  midland  coun- 
ties.    So,  in  Ben  Jonson's  Poetaster : 

" Thou  hast  not  coliied  thy  face  enough." 

Steevens. 

8  That,  in  a  spleen,  unfolds  both  heaven  and  earth, 
And  ere  a  man  hath  power  to  say,— Behold  ! 
The  jaws  of  darkness  do  'devour  it  up  ••]  Though  the  word 
spleen  be  here  employed  eddly  enough,  yet  I  believe  it  right. 
Shakspeare,  always  hurried  on  by  the  grandeur  and  multitude 
of  his  ideas,  assumes  every  now  and  then,  an  uncommon  licence 
in  the  use  of  his  words.     Particularly  in  complex  moral  modes 


sc.  i.  DREAM.  327 

So  quick  bright  things  come  to  confusion. 

Her.  If  then  true  lovers  have  been  ever  cross'd, 
It  stands  as  an  edict  in  destiny : 
Then  let  us  teach  our  trial  patience, 
Because  it  is  a  customary  cross  ; 
As  due  to  love,  as  thoughts,  and  dreams,  and  sighs, 
Wishes,  and  tears,  poor  fancy's  followers.7 

Lys.  A  good  persuasion ;  therefore,  hear  me, 
Hermia. 
I  have  a  widow  aunt,  a  dowager 
Of  great  revenue,  and  she  hath  no  child  : 
From  Athens  is  her  house  remote  seven  leagues  ; 8 
And  she  respects  me  as  her  only  son. 
There,  gentle  Hermia,  may  I  marry  thee ; 
And  to  that  place  the  sharp  Athenian  law 
Cannot  pursue  us  :  If  thou  lov'st  me  then, 
Steal  forth  thy  father's  house  to-morrow  night ; 
And  in  the  wood,  a  league  without  the  town, 
Where  I  did  meet  thee  once  with  Helena, 
To  do  observance  to  a  morn  of  May, 
There  will  I  stay  for  thee. 


it  is  usual  with  him  to  employ  one,  only  to  express  a  very  few 
ideas  of  that  number  of  which  it  is  composed.  Thus  wanting 
here  to  express  the  ideas — of  a  sudden,  or — in  a  trice,  he  uses 
the  word  spleen  ;  which,  partially  considered,  signifying  a  hasty 
sudden  fit,  is  enough  for  him,  and  he  never  troubles  himself 
about  the  further  or  fuller  signification  of  the  word.  Here,  he 
uses  the  word  spleen  for  a  sudden  hasty  jit  ;  so  just  the  contrary, 
in  The  Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  he  uses  sudden  for  splenetic  : 
"  sudden  quips."  And  it  must  be  owned  this  sort  of  conversa- 
tion adds  a  force  to  the  diction.     Warburton. 

7  fancy's  followers.']  Fancy  is  love.      So  afterwards  in 

this  play : 

"  Fair  Helena  in  fancy  following  me."     Steevens. 

8  From  Athens  is  her  house  remote  seven  leagues  ;]   Remote  is 
the  reading  of  both  the  quartos  ;  the  folio  has — rcmovd. 

Steevens. 


328  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S         act  J. 

Her.  My  good  Lysander  ! 

I  swear  to  thee,  by  Cupid's  strongest  bow ; 
By  his  best  arrow  with  the  golden  head ; 9 
By  the  simplicity  of  Venus'  doves  ; 
By  that  which  knitteth  souls,  and  prospers  loves ; 
And  by  that  fire  which  burn'd  the  Cartilage  queen  J 
When  the  false  Trojan  under  sail  was  seen ; 
By  all  the  vows  that  ever  men  have  broke, 
In  number  more  than  ever  women  spoke ; — 
In  that  same  place  thou  hast  appointed  me, 
To-morrow  truly  will  I  meet  with  thee. 

Lys.  Keep  promise,  love :  I^ook,  here  comes 
Helena. 

Enter  Helena. 

Her.  God  speed  fair  Helena !  Whither  away  ? 

Hel.  Call  you  me  fair  ?  that  fair  again  unsay. 
Demetrius  loves  your  fair : 2  O  happy  fair  ! 
Your  eyes  are  lode-stars  ; 3  and  your  tongue's  sweet 
air 


9  his  best  arrow  with  the  golden  head  f\  So,  in  Sidney's 

Arcadia,  Book  II : 

" arrowes  two,  and  tipt  with  gold  or  lead : 

"  Some  hurt,  accuse  a  third  with  horny  head." 

Steevens. 

1  by  that  fire  •which  burn'd  the   Carthage  queen,]  Shak- 

speare  had  forgot  that  Theseus  performed  his  exploits  before  the 
Trojan  war,  and  consequently  long  before  the  death  of  Dido. 

Steevens. 

4  Demetrius  loves  your  fair :]  Fair  is  used  again  as  a  substan- 
tive in  The  Comedy  of  Errors,  Act  III.  sc.  iv : 

" My  decayedfair, 

"  A  sunny  look  of  his  would  soon  repair." 
Again,  in  The  Death  of  Robert  Earl  of  Huntingdon,  1(301  : 

"  But  what  foul  hand  hath  arm'd  Matilda'sjftw'?" 
Again,  in  A  Looking-Glassfbr  London  and  England,  15QS: 

11  And  fold  in  me  the  riches  of  thy  fair." 


sc.  i.  DREAM.  329 

More  tuneable  than  lark  to  shepherd's  ear, 
When  wheat  is  green,  when  hawthorn  buds  appear. 
Sickness  is  catching ;  O,  were  favour  so ! 4 
Your's  would  I  catch,5  fair  Hermia,  ere  I  go ; 


Again,  in  The  Pinner  of  Wakefield,  15gg: 

"  Then  tell  me,  love,  shall  I  have  all  thy  fair  ?'* 
Again,  in  Greene's  Never  too  late,  1616  :  "  Though  she  were 
false  to  Menelaus,  yet  her  fair  made  him  brook  her  follies." 
Again : 

"  Flora  in  tawny  hid  up  all  her  flowers, 

"  And  would  not  diaper  the  meads  with  fair." 

Steevens. 
3  Your  eyes  are  lode-stars  ;]  This  was  a  compliment  not  un- 
frequent  among  the  old  poets.  The  lode-star  is  the  leading  or 
guiding  star,  that  is,  the  pole-star.  The  magnet  is,  for  the  same 
reason,  called  the  lode-stone,  either  because  it  leads  iron,  or  be- 
cause it  guides  the  sailor.  Milton  has  the  same  thought  in 
L*  Allegro  : 

"  Towers  and  battlements  it  sees 


"  Bosom'd  high  in  tufted  trees, 


"  Where  perhaps  some  beauty  lies, 
"  The  cynosure  of  neighb'ring  eyes." 
Davies  calls  Queen  Elizabeth  : 

"  Lode-stone  to  hearts,  and  lode-stone  to  all  eyes." 

Johnson. 
So,  in  The  Spanish  Tragedy: 

"  Led  by  the  loadstar  of  her  heavenly  looks." 
Again,  in  The  Battle  of  Alcazar,  1594: 

"  The  loadstar  and  the  honour  of  our  line."    Steevexs. 

-  O,  were  favour  so  /]  Favour  is  feature,  countenance. 


So,  in  Twelfth- Night,  Act  II.  sc.  iv 

" thine  eye 

"  Hath  stay'd  upon  some  favour  that  it  loves." 

Steevens. 
*   Yoitr'x  would  I  catch,']    This  emendation  is  taken  from  the 
Oxford  edition.     The  old  reading  is — Your  ivords  I  catch. 

Johnson. 
Mr.  Malone  reads — "  Your  ivords  Pd  catch."     Steevens. 

The  emendation  [Pd  catch]  was  made  by  the  editor  of  the 
second  folio.  Sir  T.  Hanmer  reads — "  Yours  would  I  catch  :" 
in  which  he  has  been  followed  by  the  subsequent  editors.  As 
the  old  reading  (xvords)  is  intelligible,  I  have  adhered  to  the  an- 
cient copies.     Malonk. 


330  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS         act  i. 

My  ear  should  catch  your  voice,  my  eye  your  eye, 
My  tongue  should  catch  your  tongue's  sweet  melody. 
Were  the  world  mine,  Demetrius  being  bated, 
The  rest  I'll  give  to  be  to  you  translated.6 
O,  teach  me  how  you  look ;  and  with  what  art 
You  sway  the  motion  of  Demetrius'  heart. 

Her.  I  frown  upon  him,  yet  he  loves  me  still. 

Hel.  O,  that  your  frowns  would  teach  my  smiles 
such  skill ! 

Her.  I  give  him  curses,  yet  he  gives  me  love. 

Hel.  O,  that  my  prayers  could  such  affection 
move! 

Her.  The  more  I  hate,  the  more  he  follows  me. 

Hel.  The  more  I  love,  the  more  he  hateth  me. 

Her.  His  folly,  Helena,  is  no  fault  of  mine.7 

Hel.  None,  but  your  beauty;  'Would  that  fault 
were  mine ! 8 

Her.  Take  comfort ;  he  no  more  shall  see  my 
face; 
Lysander  and  myself  will  fly  this  place. — 


I  have  deserted  the  old  copies,  only  because  I  am  unable  to 
discover  how  Helena,  by  catching  the  words  of  Hermia,  could 
also  catch  hex  favour,  i.  e.  her  beauty.     Steevens. 

6  -  to  be  to  you  translated.]  To  translate,  in  our  author, 
sometimes  signifies  to  change,  to  transform.     So,  in  Timon : 

"  '         to  present  slaves  and  servants 
"  Translates  his  rivals."     Steevens. 

7  His  folly,  Helena,  is  no  fault  of  mine.]  The  folio,  and  the 
quarto  printed  by  Roberts,  read  : 

His  folly,  Helena,  is  none  of  mine.    Johnson. 

8  None,  but  your  beauty;  'Would  that  fault  ivere  mine!'}  I 
would  point  this  line  thus : 

None. — But  your  beauty  ; — '  Would  that  fault  were  mine  ! 

Henderson. 


sc.  l  DREAM.  331 

Before  the  time  I  did  Lysander  see,9 
Seem'd  Athens  as  a  paradise  to  me  : 
O  then,  what  graces  in  my  love  do  dwell, 
That  he  hath  turn'd  a  heaven  unto  hell ! 

Lys.  Helen,  to  you  our  minds  we  will  unfold  : 
To-morrow-night  when  Phcebe  doth  behold 
Her  silver  visage  in  the  wat'ry  glass, 
Decking  with  liquid  pearl  the  bladed  grass, 
(A  time  that  lovers'  flights  doth  still  conceal,) 
Through  Athens'  gates  have  Ave  devis'd  to  steal. 

Her.  And  in  the  wood^  where  often  you  and  I 
Upon  faint  primrose-beds1  were  wont  to  lie, 
Emptying  our  bosoms  of  their  counsel  sweet  :2 
There  my  Lysander  and  myself  shall  meet : 


'  Take  comfort ;  he  no  more  shall  see  my  face  ; 

Lysander  and  myself  'ivillfy  this  place. — 

Before  the  time  I  did  Lysander  see,]  Perhaps  every  reader 
may  not  discover  the  propriety  of  these  lines.  Hermia  is  willing 
to  comfort  Helena,  and  to  avoid  all  appearance  of  triumph  over 
her.  She  therefore  bids  her  not  to  consider  the  power  of  pleas- 
ing, as  an  advantage  to  be  much  envied  or  much  desired,  since 
Hermia,  whom  she  considers  as  possessing  it  in  the  supreme  de- 
gree, has  found  no  other  effect  of  it  than  the  loss  of  happiness. 

Johnson. 

1  faint  primrose-beds — ]   Whether  the  epithet  faint  has 

reference  to  the  colour  or  smell  of  primroses,  let  the  reader  de- 
termine.    Steevens. 

8  Emptying  our  bosoms  of  their  counsel  sweet :]  That  is, 
emptying  our  bosoms  of  those  secrets  upon  which  we  were  wont 
to  consult  each  other  with  so  sweet  a  satisfaction.     Heath. 

Emptying  our  bosoms  of  their  counsel  swell'd ; 

There  my  Lysander  and  myself  shall  meet : 

And  thence,from  Athens,  turn  axvay  our  eyes, 

To  seek  new  friends,  and  strange  companions.]  This  whole 
tfcent-  is  strictly  in  r!i\  me ;  ;nul  that  it  dev  iatea  in  these  two  coup- 
lets, I  am  persuaded,  is  owing  to  the  ignorance  of  the  first,  and 
the  inaccuracy  of  the  later  editor*.  I  have  therefore  ventured 
to  restore  the  rhymes,  as  I  make  no  doubt  but  the  poet  first  gave 
them.     Sweet  was  easily  corrupted  into  siveU*dt  because  that 


332  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S         act  i. 

And  thence,  from  Athens,  turn  away  our  eyes, 
To  seek  new  friends  and  stranger  companies. 
Farewell,  sweet  playfellow ;  pray  thou  for  us, 
And  good  luck  grant  thee  thy  Demetrius  ! — 


made  an  antithesis  to  emptying:  and  strange  companions  our 
editors  thought  was  plain  English ;  but  stranger  companies,  a 
little  quaint  and  unintelligible.  Our  author  very  often  uses  the 
substantive,  stranger,  adjectively  ;  and  companies,  to  signify  com- 
panions: as  in  Richard  II.  Act  I : 

"  To  tread  the  stranger  paths  of  banishment." 
And  in  Henry  V: 

"  His  companies  unlettered,  rude  and  shallow." 

Theobald. 

Dr.  Warburton  retains  the  old  reading,  and  perhaps  justifiably ; 
for  a  bosom  swell'd  with  secrets  does  not  appear  as  an  expression 
unlikely  to  have  been  used  by  our  author,  who  speaks  of  a  stujf'd 
bosom  in  Macbeth. 

In  Lyly's  Midas,  1592,  is  a  somewhat  similar  expression : 
"  I  am  one  of  those  whose  tongues  are  swell'd  toith  silence." 
Again,  in  our  author's  King  Richard  II: 

" the  unseen  grief 

"  That  swells  in  silence  in  the  tortur'd  soul." 

"  0/"counsels  swell'd"  may  mean — swell'd  with  counsels. 

Of  and  with,  in  other  ancient  writers  have  the  same  significa- 
tion.    See  also,  Macbeth — Note  on — 

"  OfKernes  and  Gallow-glasses  was  supplied." 
i.  e.  with  them. 

In  the  scenes  of  King  Richard  II.  there  is  likewise  a  mixture 
of  rhyme  and  blank  verse.  Mr.  Tyrwhitt,  however,  concurs  witb 
Theobald. 

Though  I  have  thus  far  defended  the  old  reading,  in  deference 
to  the  opinion  of  other  criticks  I  have  given  Theobald's  conjec- 
tures a  place  in  the  text.     Steevens. 

I  think,  sweet,  the  reading  proposed  by  Theobald,  is  right. 

The  latter  of  Mr.  Theobald's  emendations  is  likewise  supported 
by  Stowe's  Annates,  p.  291,  edit.  lf)15  :  "  The  prince  himself 
was  faine  to  get  upon  the  high  altar,  to  girt  his  aforesaid  compa- 
nies with  the  order  of  knighthood."  Mr.  Heath  observes,  that 
our  author  seems  to  have  had  the  following  passage  in  the  55th 
Psalm,  (v.  14,  15,)  in  his  thoughts:  "  But  it  was  even  thou, 
my  companion,  my  guide,  and  mine  own  familiar  friend.  We 
took  sweet  counsel  together,  and  walked  in  the  house  of  God  as 
friends."    Malone. 


sc.  i.  DREAM.  333 

Keep  word,  Lysander :  we  must  starve  our  sight 
From  lovers'  food,  till  morrow  deep  midnight.3 

[Exit  Herm. 

Lys.  I  will,  my  Hermia. — Helena,  adieu  : 
As  you  on  him,  Demetrius  dote  on  you ! 

[Exit  Lys. 

Hel.  How  happy  some,  o'er  other  some  can  be ! 
Through  Athens  I  am  thought  as  fair  as  she. 
But  what  of  that  ?  Demetrius  thinks  not  so  ; 
He  will  not  know  what  all  but  he  do  know. 
And  as  he  errs,  doting  on  Hermia's  eyes, 
So  I,  admiring  of  his  qualities. 
Things  base  and  vile,  holding  no  quantity,4 
Love  can  transpose  to  form  and  dignity. 
Love  looks  not  with  the  eyes,  but  with  the  mind ; 
And  therefore  is  winged  Cupid  painted  blind : 
Nor  hath  love's  mind  of  any  judgement  taste ; 
Wings,  and  no  eyes,  figure  unheedy  haste : 
And  therefore  is  love  said  to  be  a  child, 
Because  in  choice  he  is  so  oft  beguil'd. 
As  waggish  boys  in  game0  themselves  forswear, 
So  the  boy  love  is  perjur'd  every  where : 


3 ivhe n  Phcebe  cloth  behold,  &c. 

deep  midnight.]  Shakspeare  has  a  little  forgotten  him- 
self*. It  appears  from  p.  318,  that  to-morrow  night  would  be 
within  three  nights  of  the  new  moon,  when  there  is  no  moon- 
shine at  all,  much  less  at  deep  midnight.  The  same  oversight 
occurs  in  Act  III.  sc.  i.     Blackstone. 

* holding  no   quantity,]      Quality  seems   a  word   more 

suitable  to  the  sense  than  quantity,  but  either  may  serve. 

Johnson. 

Quantity  is  our  author's  word.    So,  in  Hamlet,  Act  III.  sc.  ii : 
"  And  women's  fear  and  love  hold  quantity." 

Steevens. 

*   ■       in  game — ]  Game  here  signifies  not  contentious  play, 
but  sport,  jest.     So  Spenser : 

" 'twixt  earnest,  and  'twixt  game"    Johnson. 


334  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S         act  i. 

For  ere  Demetrius  look'd  on  Hermia's  eyne,6 
He  faail'ii  down  oaths,  that  he  was  only  mine ; 
And  when  this  hail 7  some  heat  from  Hermia  felt, 
So  he  dissolv'd,  and  showers  of  oaths  did  melt. 
I  will  go  tell  him  of  fair  Hermia's  flight : 
Then  to  the  wood  will  he,  to-morrow  night, 
Pursue  her ;  and  for  this  intelligence 
If  I  have  thanks,  it  is  a  dear  expence  :8 
But  herein  mean  I  to  enrich  my  pain, 
To  have  his  sight  thither,  and  back  again.   [Exit. 


SCENE  II. 


The  same.     A  Room  in  a  Cottage. 

Enter  Snug,   Bottom,  Flute,   Snout,   Quince, 
and  Starveling.9 


Quin.  Is  all  our  company  here  ? 


6 Hermia's  eyne,]  This  plural  is  common  both  in  Chaucer 

and  Spenser.     So,  in  Chaucer's  Character  of  the  Prioresse,  Tyr- 
whitt's  edit.  v.  152  ; 

" hir  eyen  grey  as  glass." 

Again,  in  Spenser's  Fairy  Queen,  B.  I.  c.  iv.  st.  9 : 

"  While  flashing  beams  do  dare  his  feeble  eyen." 

Steevens. 

7 this  hail — ]  Thus  all  the  editions,  except  the  4to.  16OO, 

printed  by  Roberts,  which  reads  instead  of  this  hail,  his  hail. 

Steevens. 

8 it  is  a  dear  expence  :]  i.  e.  it  will  cost  him  much,  (be  a 

severe  constraint  on  his  feelings,)  to  make  even  so  slight  a  re- 
turn for  my  communication.     Steevens. 

9  In  this  scene  Shakspeare  takes  advantage  of  his  knowledge 
of  the  theatre,  to  ridicule  the  prejudices  and  competitions  of  the 
players.  Bottom,  who  is  generally  acknowledged  the  principal 
actor,  declares  his  inclination  to  be  for  a  tyrant,  for  a  part  of 
fury,  tumult,  and  noise,  such  as  every  young  man  pants  to  per- 


sc.  ii.  DREAM.  335 

Bot.  You  were  best  to  call  them  generally,  man 
by  man,  according  to  the  scrip.1 

Quin.  Here  is  the  scroll  of  every  man's  name, 
which  is  thought  fit,  through  all  Athens,  to  play 
in  our  interlude  before  the  duke .  and  duchess,  on 
his  wedding-day  at  night. 

Bot.  First,  good  Peter  Quince,  say  what  the  play 
treats  on  ;  then  read  the  names  of  the  actors  ;  and 
so  grow  to  a  point.2 


form  when  he  first  steps  upon  the  stage.  The  same  Bottom, 
who  seems  bred  in  a  tiring-room,  has  another  histrionical  passion. 
He  is  for  engrossing  every  part,  and  would  exclude  his  inferiors 
from  all  possibility  of  distinction.  He  is  therefore  desirous  to 
play  Pyramus,  Thisbe,  and  the  Lion,  at  the  same  time. 

Johnson. 

1  the  scrip.]  A  scrip,  Fr.  escript,  now  written  ecrit.    So, 

Chaucer,  in  Troilus  and  Cressida,  1.  2.  1 130 : 

"  Scripe  nor  bil." 
Again,  in  Hey  wood's,  If  you  knovo  not  me  you  hwiv  Nobodi/, 
1006,  P.  II: 

"  I'll  take  thy  own  word  without  scrip  or  scroll." 
Holinshed  likewise  uses  the  word.     Steevens. 


*  grow  to  a  point.']   Dr.  Warburton  reads — go  on  ;  but 

groiv  is  used,  in  allusion  to  his  name,  Quince.     Johnson. 

To  grow  to  a  point,  I  believe,  has  no  reference  to  the  name  of 
Quince.  I  meet  with  the  same  kind  of  expression  in  Wily  Be- 
guiled: 

"  As  yet  we  are  grown  to  no  conclusion." 
Again,  in  The  Arraignment  of  Paris,  1584: 

"  Our  reasons  will  be  infinite,  I  trow, 

"  Unless  unto  some  other  point  toe  grow"     Steevens. 

And  so  grow  to  a  point.]  The  sense,  in  my  opinion,  hath  been 
hitherto  mistaken;  and  instead  of  a  point,  a  substantive,  I  would 
read  appoint  a  verb,  that  is  appoint  what  part  each  actor  is  to 
perform,  which  is  the  real  case.  Quince  first  tells  them  the  name 
of  the  play,  then  calls  the  actors  by  their  names,  and  after  that, 
tells  each  of  them  what  part  is  set  down  for  him  to  act. 

Perhaps,  however,  only  the  particle  a  may  be  inserted  by  the 
printer,  and  Shakspeare  wrote  to  point,  i.  c.  to  appoint.     The 


336  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S         act  i. 

Quin.  Marry,  our  play  is — The  most  lamentable 
comedy,3  and  most  cruel  death  of  Pyramus  and 
Thisby. 

Bot.  A  very  good  piece  of  work,  I  assure  you, 
and  a  merry.4 — Now,  good  Peter  Quince,  call  forth 
your  actors  by  the  scroll :  Masters,  spread  your- 
selves.' 

Quin.  Answer,  as  I  call  you. — Nick  Bottom, 
the  weaver. 

Bot.  Ready:  Name  what  part  I  am  for,  and 
proceed. 

Quin.  You,  Nick  Bottom,  are  set  down  for  Py- 
ramus. 

Bot.  What  is  Pyramus  ?  a  lover,  or  a  tyrant  ? 

Quin.  A  lover,  that  kills  himself  most  gallantly 
for  love. 

word  occurs  in  that  sense  in  a  poem  by  N.  B.  1614,  called 
I  would  and  I  ivould  not,  stanza  iii : 

"  To  point  the  captains  every  one  their  fight." 

Warner. 

3  The  most  lamentable  comedy,  &c]  This  is  very  pro- 
bably a  burlesque  on  the  title  page  of  Cambyses:  "  A  lament- 
able Tragedie,  mixed  full  of  pleasant  Mirth,  containing,  The 
Life  of  Cambises  king  of  Percia,"  &c.  By  Thomas  Preston, 
bl.  1.  no  date. 

On  the  registers  of  the  Stationers'  company,  however,  appears 
"  the  boke  of  Perymus  and  Thesbye"  1562.  Perhaps  Shak- 
speare  copied  some  part  of  his  interlude  from  it.     Steevens. 

A  poem  entitled  Pyramus  and  Thisbe,  By  D.  Gale,  was  pub- 
lished in  4to.  in  1597  ;  but  this,  I  believe,  was  posterior  to  the 
Midsummer- Nigh  fs  Dream.     Malone. 

4  A  very  good  piece  of  ivork,  and  a  merry.]  This  is  designed 
as  a  ridicule  on  the  titles  of  our  ancient  moralities  and  interludes. 
Thus  Skelton's  Magnificence  is  called  "  a  goodly  interlude  and 
a  mery."     Steevens. 

4  — —  spread  yourselves.']  i.  e.  stand  separately,  not  in  a  group, 
but  so  that  you  may  be  distinctly  seen,  and  called  over. 

STEEVENi. 


sc.  ii.  DREAM.  337 

Bot.  That  will  ask  some  tears  in  the  true  per- 
forming of  it :  If  I  do  it,  let  the  audience  look  to 
their  eyes ;  I  will  move  storms,  I  will  condole  in 
some  measure.6  To  the  rest : — Yet  my  chief  hu- 
mour is  for  a  tyrant :  I  could  play  Ercles  rarely,  or 
a  part  to  tear  a  cat  in,7  to  make  all  split.3 

"  The  raging  rocks, 

"  With  shivering  shocks,9 

"  Shall  break  the  locks 


c  /  will  condole  in  some  measure.']  When  we  use  this  verb 

at  present,  we  put  with  before  the  person  for  whose  misfortune 
we  profess  concern.  Anciently  it  seems  to  have  been  employed 
without  it.  So,  in  A  Pennyworth  of  good  Counsell,  an  ancient 
ballad: 

"  Thus  to  the  wall 

"  I  may  condole." 
Again,  in  Three  Merry  Coolers,  another  old  song: 

"  Poor  weather  beaten  soles, 

"  Whose  case  the  body  condoles.''*     Stebvens. 

7  /  could  -play  Ercles  rarely,  or  a  part  to  tear  a  cat  in,~\  In 
the  old  comedy  of  The  Roaring  Girl,  l6ll,  there  is  a  character 
called  Tear-cat,  who  says:  "  I  am  called,  by  those  who  have 
seen  my  valour,  Tear-cat.'"  In  an  anonymous  piece  called 
Hislriomastix,  or  The  Player  Whipt,  l6lO,  in  six  acts,  a  parcel 
of  soldiers  drag  a  company  of  players  on  the  stage,  and  the 
captain  says :  "  Sirrah,  this  is  you  that  would  rend  and  tear  a 
cat  upon  a  stage,"  &c.  Again,  in  The  Isle  of  Gulls,  a  comedy 
by  J.  Day,  1606:  "  I  had  rather  hear  two  such  jests,  than  a 
whole  play  of  such  Tear-cat  thunderclaps."     Steevens. 

8  to  make  all  split.]  This  is  to  be  connected  with  the  pre- 
vious part  of  the  speech;  not  with  the  subsequent  rhymes.  It 
was  the  description  of  a  bully.     In  the  second  act  of  The  Scom- 

fid  Ladij,  we  meet  with   "  two  roaring   boys   of  Rome,  that 
made  all  split."     Farmer. 

I  meet  with  the  same  expression  in  The  Widow  Tears,  by 
Chapman,  l6l2:  "  Her  wit  I  must  employ  upon  this  business 
to  prepare  my  next  encounter,  but  in  such  a  fashion  as  shall 
make  all  split."     Malone. 

9  With  shivering  shocks,']  The  old  copy  reads — "  And  shiver- 
ing," &c.     The  emendation  is  Dr.  Farmer's.     Steevens, 

VOL.  IV.  L 


'is  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S         act  i. 


OOi 


"  Of  prison-gates : 
"  And  Phibbus'  car 
"  Shall  shine  from  far, 
"  And  make  and  mar 

"  The  foolish  fates." 

This  was  lofty! — Now  name  the  rest  of  the  play- 
ers.— This  is  Ercles'  vein,  a  tyrant's  vein ;  a  lover 
is  more  condoling. 

Quin.  Francis  Mute,  the  bellows-mender.1 

Flu.  Here,  Peter  Quince. 

Quin.  You  must  take  Thisby  on  you. 

Flu.  What  is  Thisby?  a  wandering  knight? 

Quin.  It  is  the  lady  that  Pyramus  must  love. 

Flu.  Nay,  faith,  let  me  not  play  a  woman ;  I 
have  a  beard  coming. 

Quin.  That's  all  one ;  you  shall  play  it  in  a  mask, 
and  you  may  speak  as  small  as  you  will.2 

the  bellows-mender.]  In  Ben  Jonson's  Masque  of  Pan*  s 


Anniversary,  &c.  a  man  of  the  same  profession  is  introduced.  I 
have  been  told  that  a  bellow-mender  was  one  who  had  the  care 
of  organs,  regals,  &c.     Steevens. 

9 as  small  &c]     This  passage  shows  how  the  want  of 

women  on  the  old  stage  was  supplied.  If  they  had  not  a  young 
man  who  could  perform  the  part  with  a  face  that  might  pass  for 
feminine,  the  character  was  acted  in  a  mask,  which  was  at  that 
time  a  part  of  a  lady's  dress  so  much  in  use,  that  it  did  not  give 
any  unusual  appearance  to  the  scene :  and  he  that  could  modu- 
late his  voice  in  a  female  tone,  might  play  the  woman  very  suc- 
cessfully. It  is  observed  in  Downes's  Roscius  Anglicanus,  that 
Kynaston,  one  of  these  counterfeit  heroines,  moved  the  passions 
more  strongly  than  the  women  that  have  since  been  brought 
upon  the  stage.  Some  of  the  catastrophes  of  the  old  comedies, 
which  make  lovers  marry  the  wrong  women,  are,  by  recollec- 
tion of  the  common  use  of  masks,  brought  nearer  to  probability. 

Johnson. 

Dr.  Johnson  here  seems  to  have  quoted  from  memory.  Downes 
does  not  speak  of  Kynaston's  performance  in  such  unqualified 


sc.  n.  DREAM.  239 

Bot.  An  I  may  hide  my  face,  let  me  play  Thisby 
too:  I'll  speak  in  a  monstrous  little  voice; — Thisne, 
Thisne, — Ah,  Pyramus,  my  lover  dear;  thy  Thisby 
dear!  and  lady  dear! 

Quix.  No,  no;  you  must  play  Pyramus,  and, 
Flute,  you  Thisby. 

Bot.  Well,  proceed. 

Quix.  Robin  Starveling,  the  tailor. 

Star.  Here,  Peter  Quince. 

Quix.  Robin  Starveling,  you  must  play  Thisby 's 
mother.3 — Tom  Snout,  the  tinker. 

Sxout.  Here,  Peter  Quince. 

Quix.  You,  Pyramus's  father  ;  myself,  Thisby's 
father  ; — Snug,  the  joiner,  you,  thelion's  part : — 
and,  I  hope,  here  is  a  play  fitted. 

Sxug.  Have  you  the  lion's  part  written?  pray 
you,  if  it  be,  give  it  me,  for  I  am  slow  of  study.4 

terms.  His  words  are — "  It  has  since  been  disputable  among 
the  judicious,  whether  any  women  that  succeeded  him,  (Kynas- 
ton,)  so  sensibly  touched  the  audience  as  he."     Heed. 

Prynne,  in  his  Histriomastix,  exclaims  with  great  vehemence 
through  several  pages,  because  a  woman  acted  a  part  in  a  play 
at  Blackfryars  in  the  year  i(?28.     Steevens. 

— ■ — you  must  play  Thisby's  mother.']  There  seems  a  double 
forgetfulness  of  our  poet,  in  relation  to  the  characters  of  this 
interlude.  The  father  and  mother  of  Thisby,  and  the  father  of 
Pyramus,  are  here  mentioned,  who  do  not  appear  at  all  in  the 
interlude ;  but  Wall  and  Moonshine  are  both  employed  in  it,  of 
whom  there  is  not  the  least  notice  taken  here.     Theobald. 

Theobald  is  wrong  as  to  this  last  particular.  The  introduction 
of  Wall  and  Moonshine  was  an  after-thought.  See  Act  III. 
sc.  i.  It  may  be  observed,  however,  that  no  part  of  what  is  re- 
hearsed is  afterwards  repeated,  when  the  piece  is  acted  before 
Theseus.     Steevens. 

*      •     iloiv  of  study.]  Study  is  still  the  cant  term  used  in  a 


Z2 


340  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS  act  i. 

Quin.  You  may  do  it  extempore,  for  it  is  nothing 
but  roaring. 

Bot.  Let  me  play  the  lion  too :  I  will  roar,  that  I 
will  do  any  man's  heart  good  to  hear  me ;  I  will 
roar,  that  I  will  make  the  duke  say,  Let  him  roar 
again,  Let  him  roar  again. 

Quin.  An  you  should  do  it  too  terribly,  you  would 
fright  the  duchess  and  the  ladies,  that  they  would 
shriek ;  and  that  were  enough  to  hang  us  all. 

All.  That  would  hang  us  every  mother's  son. 

Bot.  I  grant  you,  friends,  if  that  you  should 
fright  the  ladies  out  of  their  wits,  they  would  have 
no  more  discretion  but  to  hang  us :  but  I  will  ag- 
gravate my  voice  so,  that  I  will  roar  you  as  gently 
as  any  sucking  dove ;  I  will  roar  you  an  'twere  any 
nightingale.5 

Quin.  You  can  play  no  part  but  Pyramus  :  for 
Pyramus  is  a  sweet-faced  man  ;  a  proper  man,  as 
one  shall  see  in  a  summer's  day;  a  most  lovely, 
gentleman-like  man ;  therefore  you  must  needs  play 
Pyramus. 

Bot.  Well,  I  will  undertake  it.  What  beard 
were  I  best  to  play  it  in? 

Quin.  Why,  what  you  will. 

Bot.  I  will  discharge  it  in  either  your  straw-co- 
loured beard,  your  orange-tawny  beard,  your  pur- 
ple-in-grain  beard,  or  your  French-crown-colour 
beard,  your  perfect  yellow.6 

theatre  for  getting  any  nonsense  by  rote.  Hamlet  asks  the  player 
if  he  can  "study  a  speech."     Steevens. 

5  an  'twere  any  nightingale.]    An  means  as  if.     So,  in 

Troilus  and  Cressida : — "  He  will  weep  you,  an  'twere  a  man 
born  in  April."     Steevens. 

' your  perfect  yellow.']  Here  Bottom  again  discovers  a 


sc.  ii.  DREAM.  341 

Quix.  Some  of  your  French  crowns  have  no  hair 
at  all,  and  then  you  will  play  bare-faced.7 — But, 
masters,  here  are  your  parts  :  and  I  am  to  entreat 
you,  request  you,  and  desire  you,  to  con  them  by 
to-morrow  night;  and  meet  me  in  the  palace  wood, 
a  mile  without  the  town,  by  moon-light;  there  will 
we  rehearse:  for  if  we  meet  in  the  city,  we  shall 
be  dog'd  with  company,  and  our  devices  known. 
In  the  mean  time  I  will  draw  a  bill  of  proper- 
ties,8 such  as  our  play  wants.  I  pray  you,  fail  me 
not. 

Box.  We  will  meet;  and  there  we  may  rehearse 
more  obscenely,  and  courageously.  Take  pains  j 
be  perfect ;  adieu. 


true  genius  for  the  stage  by  his  solicitude  for  propriety  of  dress, 
and  his  deliberation  which  beard  to  choose  among  many  beards, 
all  unnatural.     Johnson. 

So,  in  the  old  comedy  of  Ram- Alley,  l6l  I : 

"  What  colour  d  beard  comes  next  by  the  window  ? 
"  A  black  man's,  I  think  ; 
"  I  think,  a  red:  for  that  is  most  in  fashion." 
This  custom  of  wearing  coloured  beards,  the  reader  will  find 
more  amply  explained  in  Measure for  Measure,  Act  IV.  sc.  ii. 

Steevens. 

7  ■  French  croivns  &c]  That  is,  a  head  from  which  the 

hair  has  fallen  in  one  of  the  last  stages  of  the  lues  venerea, 
called  the  corona  veneris.  To  this  our  poet  has  too  frequent 
allusions.     Steevens. 

8  properties,']  Properties  are  whatever  little  articles  are 

wanted  in  a  play  for  the  actors,  according  to  their  respective 
parts,  dresses  and  scenes  excepted.  The  person  who  delivers 
them  out  is  to  this  day  called  the  property-man.  In  The  Bas- 
singboume  Hall,  i/ni,  we  rind  "  garnements  and  propyrts." 
See  Warton's  History  of  English  Poetry,  Vol.  III.  p.  320." 

Again,  in  Albumazar,  l6l5: 
"  Furbo,  our  beards, 

"  Black  patches  for  our  eyes,  and  other  properties." 
Again,  in  Westward-Hoe,  160": 

"  I'll  go  make  ready  my  rustical  proper  tics.'"     Steevens. 


342  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S         act  i. 

Quix.  At  the  duke's  oak  we  meet. 

Bot.  Enough ;  Hold,  or  cut  bow-strings.9 

\_Ecceunt. 

9  At  the  duke's  oak  we  meet. 

Hold,  or  cut  bow-strings.]  This  proverbial  phrase  came 

originally  from  the  camp.  When  a  rendezvous  was  appointed, 
the  militia  soldiers  would  frequently  make  excuse  for  not  keep- 
ing word,  that  their  bow-strings  were  broke,  i.  e.  their  arms  un- 
serviceable. Hence  when  one  would  give  another  absolute  as- 
surance of  meeting  him,  he  would  say  proverbially — hold  or  cut 
boiv-strings — i.  e.  whether  the  bow-strings  held  or  broke.  For 
cut  is  used  as  a  neuter,  like  the  verb  fret.  As  when  we  say, 
the  stringfrets,  the  silk  frets,  for  the  passive,  it  is  cut  ox  fretted. 

Warburton. 

This  interpretation  is  very  ingenious,  but  somewhat  dis- 
putable. The  excuse  made  by  the  militia  soldiers  is  a  mere  sup- 
position, without  proof;  and  it  is  well  known  that  while  bows 
were  in  use,  no  archer  ever  entered  the  field  without  a  supply  of 
strings  in  his  pocket ;  whence  originated  the  proverb,  to  have 
two  strings  to  one's  bow.  In  The  Country  Girl,  a  comedy  by 
T.  B.  1647,  is  the  following  threat  to  a  fidler: 

" fiddler,  strike; 

"  I'll  strike  you,  else,  and  cut  your  begging  bowstrings." 
Again,  in  The  Ball,  by  Chapman  and  Shirley,  163Q: 

" have  you  devices  to  jeer  the  rest  ? 

"  Luc.  All  the  regiment  of  'em,  or  I'll  break  my  bow- 
strings." 
The  bowstrings  in  both  these  instances  may  only  mean  the 
strings  which  make  part  of  the  bow  with  which  musical  instru- 
ments of  several  kinds  are  struck.  The  propriety  of  the  allusion 
I  cannot  satisfactorily  explain.  Let  the  curious  reader,  how- 
ever, consult  Ascham's  Toxophilus,  edit.  15SQ,  p.  38.  b. 

Steevens. 

To  meet,  whether  bow-strings  hold  or  are  cut,  is  to  meet  in  all 
events.  To  cut  the  bowstring,  when  bows  were  in  use,  was  pro- 
bably a  common  practice  of  those  who  bore  enmity  to  the  archer. 
"  He  hath  twice  or  thrice  cut  Cupid's  bowstring,  (says  Don 
Pedro  in  Much  Ado  about  Nothing,  J  and  the  little  hangman  dare 
not  shoot  at  him."     Malone. 

Hold,  or  cut  cod  piece  point,  is  a  proverb  to  be  found  in  Kay's 
Collection,  p.  57,  edit.  1737.     Collins. 


ACT  II.  DREAM.  345 

ACT  II.    SCENE   I. 

A  Wood  near  Athens. 
Enter  a  Fairy  at  one  door,  and  Puck  at  another. 

Puck.  How  now,  spirit!  whither  wander  you? 

Fai.  Over  hill,  over  dale,1 

Thorough  bush,  thorough  briar, 
Over  park,  over  pale, 

Thorough  flood,  thorough  fire, 
I  do  wander  every  where, 
Swifter  than  the  moones  sphere  j* 
And  I  serve  the  fairy  queen, 
To  dew  her  orbs  upon  the  green  :3 


*  Over  hill,  over  dale,  &c.J  So  Drayton,  in  his  Nymphidia, 
or  Court  of  Fairy : 

"  Thorough  brake,  thorough  brier, 

"  Thorough  muck,  thorough  mire, 

"  Thorough  water,  thorough  fire."     Johnson. 

2  the  moones  sphere;']  Unless  we  suppose  this  to  be  the 

Saxon  genitive  case,  (as  it  is  here  printed,)  the  metre  will  be  de- 
fective. So,  in  Spenser's  Fairy  Queen,  B.  III.  c.  i.  st.  15: 
"  And  eke  through  feare  as  white  as  tvhales  bone." 
Again,  in  a  letter  from  Gabriel  Harvey  to  Spenser,  1580: 
"  Have  we  not  God  hys  wrath,  for  Goddes  wrath,  and  a  thou- 
sand of  the  same  stampe,  wherein  the  corrupte  orthography  in 
the  most,  hath  been  the  sole  or  principal  cause  of  corrupte 
prosodye  in  over-many?" 

The  following  passage,  however,  in  the  3d  Book  of  Sidney's 
Arcadia,  may  suggest  a  different  reading  : 

" what  mov'd  me  to  invite 

"  Your  presence,  (sister  deare,)  first  to  my  moony  sphere?" 

Steevens. 

To  dciv  her  orbs  upon  the  green/]    The  orbs  here  men- 
tioned are  circles  supposed  to  be  made  by  the  fairies  on  the  ground, 


31-i  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS        actii. 

The  cowslips  tall  her  pensioners  be  ;4 
In  their  gold  coats  spots  you  see  ;5 
Those  be  rubies,  fairy  favours, 
In  those  freckles  live  their  savours  : 


whose  verdure  proceeds  from  the  fairies'  care  to  water  them. 

Thus,  Drayton: 

"  They  in  their  courses  make  that  round, 

"  In  meadows  and  in  marshes  found, 

"  Of  them  so  called  the  fairy  ground."     Johnson. 

Thus,  in  Olaus  Magnus  de  Gentibus  Septentrionalibus : 
"  —  similes  illis  spectris,  quae  in  multis  locis,  praesertim  noctur- 
no  tempore,  suum  saltatorium  orbem  cum  omnium  musarum  con- 
centu  versare  solent."  It  appears  from  the  same  author,  that 
these  dancers  always  parched  up  the  grass,  and  therefore  it  is 
properly  made  the  office  of  the  fairy  to  refresh  it,     Steevens. 

4  The  cowslips  tall  her  pensioners  be  /]  The  cowslip  was  a 
favourite  among  the  fairies.  There  is  a  hint  in  Drayton  of  their 
attention  to  May  morning : 

" For  the  queen  a  fitting  tower, 

"  Quoth  he,  is  that  fair  cowslip  flower. 

"  In  all  your  train  there's  not  a  fay 

"  That  ever  went  to  gather  May, 

"  But  she  hath  made  it  in  her  way, 

"  The  tallest  there  that  groweth."     Johnson. 

This  was  said  in  consequence  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  fashionable 
establishment  of  a  band  of  military  courtiers,  by  the  name  of 
pensioners.  They  were  some  of  the  handsomest  and  tallest  young 
men,  of  the  best  families  and  fortune,  that  could  be  found. 
Hence,  says  Mrs.  Quickly,  in  The  Merry  Wives,  Act  II.  sc.  ii: 
"  —  and  yet  there  has  been  earls,  nay,  which  is  more,  pen- 
sioners.'1'' They  gave  the  mode  in  dress  and  diversions. — 
They  accompanied  the  Queen  in  her  progress  to  Cambridge, 
where  they  held  staff-torches  at  a  play  on  a  Sunday  evening,  in 
King's  College  Chapel.     T.  Warton. 

4  In  their  gold  coats  spots  you  seef\  Shakspeare,  in  Cynt- 
beline,  refers  to  the  same  red  spots! : 

"  A  mole  cinque-spotted,  like  the  crimson  drops 
"  /'  th*  bottom  of  a  cowslip."     Percy. 

Perhaps  there  is  likewise  some  allusion  to  the  habit  of  a  pen- 
sioner. See  a  note  on  the  second  Act  of  the  The  Merry  Wives 
of  Windsor,  sc.  ii.     Steevens. 


sc.  i.  DREAM.  345 

I  must  go  seek  some  dew-drops  here, 
And  hang  a  pearl  in  every  cowslip's  ear.6 
Farewell,  thou  lob  of  spirits,7  I'll  be  gone  ; 
Our  queen  and  all  her  elves  come  here  anon. 

Puck.  The  king  doth  keep  his  revels  here  to- 
night ; 
Take  heed,  the  queen  come  not  within  his  sight. 
For  Oberon  is  passing  fell  and  wrath, 
Because  that  she,  as  her  attendant,  hath 
A  lovely  boy,  stol'n  from  an  Indian  king ; 
She  never  had  so  sweet  a  changeling  :8 


6  And  hang  a  pearl  in  every  cowslips  ear.]  The  same  thought 
occurs  in  an  old  comedy  call'd  The  Wisdom  of  Doctor  Dodypoll, 
1  600 ;  i.  e.  the  same  year  in  which  the  first  printed  copies  of 
this  play  made  their  appearance.     An  enchanter  says : 

"  'Twas  I  that  led  you  through  the  painted  meads 
"  Where  the  light  fairies  danc'd  upon  the  flowers, 
"  Hanging  on  every  leaf  an  orient  pearl."     Steevens. 

7  '  lob  of  spirits,']  Lob,  lubber,  looby,  lobcock,  all  denote 
both  inactivity  of  body  and  dulness  of  mind.     Johnson. 

Both  lob  and  lobcock  are  used  as  terms  of  contempt  in  The 
Rival  Friends,  1632. 

Again,  in  the  interlude  of  Jacob  and  Esau,  156*8  : 
"  Should  find  Esau  such  a  lout  or  a  /o<5." 

Again,  in  the  second  book  of  Homer,  as  translated  by  Arthur 
Hall,  1.581: 

" yet  fewe  he  led,  bycause  he  was  a  lobbed* 

Again,  in  The  Knight  of  the  Burning  Pestle,  by  Beaumont 
and  Fletcher :  "  There  is  a  pretty  tale  of  a  witch  that  had  the 
devil's  mark  about  her,  that  had  a  giant  to  her  son,  that  was 
called  Lob-lye-by-thc-fire.'n  This  being  seems  to  be  of  kin  to  the 
lubber-fiend  of  Milton,  as  Mr.  Warton  has  remarked  in  his  Ob- 
servations on  the  Fairy  Queen.     Ste evens. 

8  changeling;']    Changeling  is  commonly  used  for  the 

child  supposed  to  be  left  by  the  fairies,  but  here  for  a  child  taken 
away.     Johnson. 

So,  Spenser,  B.  I.  e.  x  : 

"  And  her  base  elfin  brood  there  for  thee  left, 
**  Such  men  do  changelings  call,  so  call'd  by  fairy  theft." 

Steevens. 


346  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S        act  il 

And  jealous  Oberon  would  have  the  child 
Knight  of  his  train,  to  trace  the  forests  wild:9 
But  she,  perforce,  withholds  the  loved  boy, 
Crowns  him  with  flowers,  and  makes  him  all  her 

And  now  they  never  meet  in  grove,  or  green, 
By  fountain  clear,  or  spangled  star-light  sheen,1 
But  they  do  square  ;2  that  all  their  elves,  for  fear, 
Creep  into  acorn  cups,  and  hide  them  there. 


It  is  here  properly  used,  and  in  its  common  acceptation ;  that 
is,  for  a  child  got  in  exchange.     A  fairy  is  now  speaking. 

RlTSON. 

9  trace  the  forests  'wild:']  This  verb  is  used  in  the  same 

sense  in  Browne's  Britannia's  Pastorals,  B.  II.  Song  II.  1613  : 
"  In  shepherd's  habit  seene 
"  To  trace  our  woods." 
Again,  in  Milton's  Comus,  v.  423  : 

"  May  trace  huge  forests,  and  unharbour'd  heaths." 

Holt  White. 

1 sheen,']  Shining,  bright,  gay.     Johnson. 

So,  in  Tancred  and  Gismund,  1592: 

" but  why 

"  Doth  Phoebus'  sister,  sheen  despise  thy  power?" 
Again,  in  the  ancient  romance  of  Syr  Tryamoure,  bl.  1.  no 
date : 

"  He  kyssed  and  toke  his  leave  of  the  quene, 

"  And  of  other  ladies  bright  and  shene."     Steevens. 

*  But  they  do  square ;]   To  square  here  is  to  quarrel.     The 
French  word  contrecarrer  has  the  same  import.     Johnson. 

So,  in  Jack  Drum'' s  Entertainment,  l60l  : 

" let  me  not  seem  rude, 

"  That  thus  I  seem  to  square  with  modesty." 

" pray  let  me  go,  for  he'll  begin  to  square,"  &c. 

Again,  in  Promos  and  Cassandra,  1.578: 

"  Marry,  she  knew  you  and  I  were  at  square, 
"  And  lest  we  fell  to  blowes,  she  did  prepare." 

Steevens. 

It  is  somewhat  whimsical,  that  the  glasiers  use  the  words 
square  and  quarrel  as  synonymous  terms  for  a  pane  of  glass. 

Blackstone. 


sc.  i.  DREAM.  347 

k 

Fai.  Either  I  mistake  your  shape  and  making 

quite, 
Or  else  you  are  that  shrewd  and  knavish  sprite, 
Call'd  Robin  Good-fellow:3  are  you  not  he, 
That  fright 4  the  maidens  of  the  villagery  ; 
Skim  milk ;  and  sometimes  labour  in  the  quern, 
And    bootless    make    the    breathless    housewife 

churn  ;5 

Robin   Good-felloxvi ;]    This  account  of  Robin  Good- 


fellow  corresponds,  in  every  article,  with  that  given  of  him  in 
Harsenet's  Declaration,  ch.  xx.  p.  134:  "  And  if  that  the  bowle 
of  curds  and  creame  were  not  duly  set  out  for  Robin  Good- 
fellow,  the  frier,  and  Sisse  the  dairy-maid,  why  then  either  the 
pottage  was  burnt-to  next  day  in  the  pot,  or  the  cheeses  would 
not  curdle,  or  the  butter  would  not  come,  or  the  ale  in  the  fat 
never  would  have  good  head.  But  if  a  Peeter-penny,  or  an 
housle-egge  were  behind,  or  a  patch  of  tythe  unpaid, — then 
'ware  of  bull-beggars,  spirits,"  &c.  He  is  mentioned  by  Cart- 
wright  [Ordinary,  Act  III.  sc.  i.]  as  a  spirit  particularly  fond  of 
disconcerting  and  disturbing  domestic  peace  and  ceconomy. 

T.  Warton. 

Reginald  Scot  gives  the  same  account  of  this  frolicksome  spirit, 
in  his  Discoverie  of  Witchcraft,  Lond.  1584,  4to.  p.  66:  "  Your 
grandames'  maids  were  wont  to  set  a  bowl  of  milk  for  him,  for 
his  pains  in  grinding  malt  and  mustard,  and  sweeping  the  house 
at  midnight — this  white  bread  and  bread  and  milk,  was  his  stand- 
ing fee."     Steevexs. 

*  That  fright — ]  The  old  copies  read— frights  ;  and  in  gram- 
matical propriety,  I  believe,  this  verb,  as  well  as  those  that  fol- 
low, should  agree  with  the  personal  pronoun  he,  rather  than  with 
you.  If  so,  our  author  ought  to  have  written— frights,  skims,  la- 
bours, makes,  and  misleads.  The  other,  however,  being  the  more 
common  usage,  and  that  which  he  has  preferred,  I  have  correct- 
ed the  former  word.     Malone. 

4  Skim  milk  ;  and  sometimes  labour  in  the  quern, 
And  bootless  make  the  breathless  housewife  churn  ;]  The 
sense  of  these  lines  is  confused.  Are  not  you  he,  (says  the  fairy,) 
that  fright  the  country  girls,  that  skim  milk,  work  in  the  hand- 
mill,  and  make  the  tired  dairy-ivoman  churn  xoithout  effect? 
The  mention  of  the  mill  seems  out  of  place,  for  she  is  not  now 
telling  the  good,  but  the  evil  that  he  does.  I  would  regulate  the 
lines  thus: 


348  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S        act  n. 

And  sometime  make  the  drink  to  bear  no  barm ; 6 
Mislead  night-wanderers,  laughing  at  their  harm  ? 
Those  that  Hobgoblin  call  you,  and  sweet  Puck,7 
You  do  their  work,  and  they  shall  have  good  luck : 

And  sometimes  make  the  breathless  housewife  churn 
Skim  milk,  and  bootless  labour  in  the  quern. 
Or,  by  a  simple  transposition  of  the  lines : 

And  bootless  make  the  breathless  housetvife  churn 
Skim  milk,  and  sometimes  labour  in  the  quern. 
Yet  there  is  no  necessity  of  alteration.     Johnson. 
Dr.  Johnson  thinks  the  mention  of  the  mill  out  of  place,  as  the 
Fairy  is  not  now  telling  the  good,  but  the  evil  he  does.     The  ob- 
servation will  apply,  with  equal  force,  to  his  skimming  the  milk, 
which,  if  it  were  done  at  a  proper  time,  and  the  cream  preserved, 
would  be  a  piece  of  service.     But  we  must  understand  both  to 
be  mischievous  pranks.     He  skims  the  milk,  when  it  ought  not 
to  be  skimmed  : — 
(So,  in  Grim  the  Collier  of  Croydon : 

"  But  woe  betide  the  silly  dairy-maids, 
"  For  I  shall  fleet  their  cream-bowls  night  by  night.") 
and  grinds  the  corn,  when  it  is  not  wanted  ;  at  the  same  time 
perhaps  throwing  the  flour  about  the  house.     Ritson. 

A    Quern   is   a  hand-mill,  kuerna,    mola.   Islandic.     So,   in 
Chaucer's  Monkes  Tale: 

"  Wheras  they  made  him  at  the  querne  grinde." 
Again,  in  Stanyhicrsfs  translation  of  the  first  book  of  Virgil, 
1582,  quern-stone?,  are  mill-stones: 

"  They  re  corne  in  quem-stoans  they  do  grind,' '  &c. 
Again,  in  The  More  the  Merrier,  a  collection  of  epigrams,  l608: 
"  Which  like  a  querne  can  grind  more  in  an  hour." 
Again,  in  the  old  Song  of  Robin  Goodfelloiv,  printed  in  the  3d 
volume  of  Dr.  Percy's  Reliques  of  Ancient  English  Poetry: 
"  I  grind  at  mill, 
"  Their  malt  up  still,"  &c.     Steevens. 

6 no  barm  ;]  Barme  is  a  name  for  yeast,  yet  used  in  our 

midland  counties,  and  universally  in  Ireland.  So,  in  Mother 
Bombie,  a  comedy,  1594 :  "  It  behoveth  my  wits  to  work  like 
barme,  alias  yeast."  Again,  in  The  Humorous  Lieidenant  of 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher : 

"  I  think  my  brains  will  work  yet  without  barm.'1'' 

Steevens. 

7  Those  that  Hobgoblin  call  you,  and  street  Puck, 

You  do  their  work,']    To  those  traditionary  opinions  Milton 
has  reference  in  V Allegro: 


sc.  i.  DREAM.  349 

Are  not  you  he  ? 


"  Then  to  the  spicy  nut-brown  ale, 
"  With  stories  told  of  many  a  feat, 
"  How  fairy  Mab  the  junkets  eat ; 
"  She  was  pinch'd  and  pull'd,  she  said, 
"  And  he  by  frier's  lanthorn  led  ; 
"  Tells  how  the  drudging  goblin  sweat 
"  To  earn  his  cream-bowl  duly  set, 
"  When  in  one  night,  ere  glimpse  of  morn, 
"  His  shadowy  flail  hath  thresh'd  the  corn 
"  That  ten  day-labourers  could  not  end  ; 
"  Then  lies  him  down  the  lubber  fiend." 
A  like  account  of  Puck  is  given  by  Drayton,  in  his  Nymphidia: 
"  He  meeteth  Puck,  which  most  men  call 
"  Hobgoblin,  and  on  him  doth  fall. 

"  This  Puck  seems  but  a  dreaming  dolt, 
"  Still  walking  like  a  ragged  colt, 
"  And  oft  out  of  a  bush  doth  bolt, 

"  Of  purpose  to  deceive  us ; 
"  And  leading  us  makes  us  to  stray, 
"  Long  winter's  nights  out  of  the  way, 
"  And  when  we  stick  in  mire  and  clay, 
"  He  doth  with  laughter  leave  us." 
It  will  be  apparent  to  him  that  shall  compare  Drayton's  poem 
with  this  play,  that  either  one  of  the  poets  copied  the  other,  or, 
as  I  rather  believe,  that  there  was  then  some  system  of  the  fairy 
empire  generally  received,  which  they  both  represented  as  accu- 
rately as  they  could.     Whether  Drayton  or  Shakspeare  wrote 
first,  I  cannot  discover.     Johnson. 

Gervase  of  Tilbury,  speaking  of  the  Portunus,  a  species  of 
daemon,  says  : — "  Cum  inter  ambiguas  noctis  tenebras  Angli 
solitarii  equitant,  Portunus  nonnunquam  invisus  equitanti  se 
copulat,  et  cum  diutius  comitatur  euntem,  tandem  loris  arreptis 
equum  in  lutum  ad  manum  ducit,  in  quo  dum  infixus  volutatur, 
Portunus  exiens  cachinmim  facit,  &  sic  hujuscemodi  ludibrio 
humanam  simplicitatem  deridet."  See  also  Mr.  Tyrwhitt  on 
v.  6441,  of  the  Cant.  Tales  of  Chaucer. 

The  same  learned  editor  supposes  Drayton  to  have  been  the 
follower  of  Shakspeare  ;  for,  says  he,  "  Don  Quixote  (which  was 
not  published  till  160.5)  is  cited  in  the  Nymphidia,  whereas  we 
have  an  edition  of  A  Midsummer-Night" s  Dream  in  ltfOO." 

In  this  century  some  of  our  poets  have  been  as  little  scrupulous 


350  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S        act  ii. 

Puck.  Thou  speak'st  aright ; 8 

I  am  that  merry  wanderer  of  the  night. 

in  adopting  the  ideas  of  their  predecessors.    In  Gay's  ballad,  in- 
serted in  The  What  d'ye  call  it,  is  the  following  stanza : 
"  How  can  they  say  that  nature 
"  Has  nothing  made  in  vain  ; 
"  Why  then  beneath  the  water 

"  Should  hideous  rocks  remain  ?"&c.  &c. 
Compare  this  with  a  passage  in  Chaucer's  Frankeleines  Talc, 
Tyrwhitt's  edit.  v.  i.  11,179,  &c. 

"  In  idel,  as  men  sain,  ye  nothing  make, 
"  But,  lord,  thise  grisly  fendly  rockes  blake,"  &c.  &c. 
And  Mr.  Pope  is  more  indebted  to  the  same  author  for  beau- 
ties inserted  in  his  Eloisa  to  Abelard,  than  he  has  been  willing 
to  acknowledge.     Steevens. 

If  Drayton  wrote  The  Nymphidia  after  A  Midsummer-Night's 
Dream  had  been  acted,  he  could  with  very  little  propriety  say  : 
"  Then  since  no  muse  hath  been  so  bold, 
"  Or  of  the  later  or  the  ould, 
"  Those  elvish  secrets  to  unfold 

"  Which  lye  from  others  reading ; 
"  My  active  muse  to  light  shall  bring 
"  The  court  of  that  proud  fayry  king, 
"  And  tell  there  of  the  revelling ; 

"  Jove  prosper  my  proceeding."     Holt  White. 

Don  Quixote,  though  published  in  Spain  in  1605,  was  proba- 
bly little  known  in  England  till  Skelton's  translation  appeared  in 
It)  12.  Drayton's  poem  was,  I  have  no  doubt,  subsequent  to 
that  year.  The  earliest  edition  of  it  that  I  have  seen,  was  printed 
in  1619.     Malone. 

sweet  Puck,]  The  epithet  is  by  no  means  superfluous ;  as 

Puck  alone  was  far  from  being  an  endearing  appellation.  It 
signified  nothing  better  than  fiend,  or  devil.  So,  the  author  of 
Pierce  Ploughman  puts  the  poulc  for  the  devil,  fol.  lxxxx.  B.  V. 
penult.     See  also,  fol.  lxvii.  v.  15  :  "  none  helle  powke." 

It  seems  to  have  been  an  old  Gothic  word.  Puke,  puken ; 
Sathanas,  Gudm.  And.  Lexicon  Island.     Tyrwhitt. 

In  The  Bugbears,  an  ancient  MS.  comedy  in  the  possession  of 
the  Marquis  of  Lansdowne,  I  likewise  met  with  this  appellation 
of a  fiend: 

"  Puckes,  puckerels,  hob  howlard,  by  gorn  and  Robin  Good- 
felow." 


sc.  i.  DREAM.  351 

I  jest  to  Oberon,  and  make  him  smile, 

When  I  a  fat  and  bean-fed  horse  beguile, 

Neighing  in  likeness  of  a  filly  foal : 

And  sometime  lurk  I  in  a  gossip's  bowl, 

In  very  likeness  of  a  roasted  crab  ;9 

And,  when  she  drinks,  against  her  lips  I  bob, 


Again,  in  The  Scourge  of  Venus,  or  the  wanton  Lady,  with  if te 
rare  Birth  of  Adonis,  l6l5: 

"  Their  bed  doth  shake  and  quaver  as  they  lie, 

"  As  if  it  groan'd  to  bear  the  weight  of  sinne ; 
"  The  fatal  night-crowes  at  their  windowes  flee, 

"  And  cry  out  at  the  shame  they  do  live  in : 
"  And  that  they  may  perceive  the  heavens  frown, 
"  The  poukes  and  goblins  pul  the  coverings  down." 
Again,  in  Spenser's  Epithalamion,  15Q5  : 

"  Ne  let  house-fyres,  nor  lightning's  helpelesse  harms, 

"  Ne  let  the  pouke,  nor  other  evil  spright, 
"  Ne  let  mischievous  witches  with  their  charmes 
"  Ne  let  hobgoblins,"  &c. 
Again,  in  the  ninth  Book  of  Golding's  translation  of  Ovid's 
Metamorphoses,  edit.  158/,  p.  126: 

" and   the   countrie  where    Chymaera,  that  same 

pooke, 
"  Hath  goatish  bodie,"  &c.     Steevens. 

8  Puck.  Thou  speak1 'st  aright;"]  I  would  fill  up  the  verse  which 
I  suppose  the  author  left  complete : 
/  am,  thou  speak'st  aright ; 

It  seems  that  in  the  fairy  mythology,  Puck,  or  Hobgoblin,  was 
the  trusty  servant  of  Oberon,  and  always  employed  to  watch  or 
detect  the  intrigues  of  Queen  Mab,  called  by  Shakspeare,  Titania. 
For  in  Drayton's  Nymphidia,  the  same  fairies  are  engaged  in  the 
same  business.  Mab  has  an  amour  with  Pigwiggen :  Oberon 
being  jealous,  sends  Hobgoblin  to  catch  them,  and  one  of  Mab's 
nymphs  opposes  him  by  a  spell.     Johnson. 

9 a  roasted  crab  ;]  i.  e.  a  wild  apple  of  that  name.     So, 

in  the  anonymous  play  of  Ki?ig  Henry  V.  &c. 

"  Yet  we  will  have  in  store  a  crab  in  the  fire, 

"  With  nut-brown  ale,"  &c. 
Again,  in  Damon  and  Pythias,  1582: 

"  And  sit  down  in  my  chaire  by  my  wife  fair  Alison, 

"  And  turne  a  crabbc  in  the  fire,"  &c. 


352  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S        act  u. 

And  on  her  wither'd  dew-lap  pour  the  ale. 
The  wisest  aunt,1  telling  the  saddest  tale, 
Sometime  for  three-foot  stool  mistaketh  me  ; 
Then  slip  I  from  her  bum,  down  topples  she, 
And  tailor  cries,2  and  falls  into  a  cough ; 
And  then  the  whole  quire  hold  their  hips,  and 

loffe;3 
And  waxen 4  in  their  mirth,  and  neeze,  and  swear 
A  merrier  hour  was  never  wasted  there. — 

In  Summer's  Last  Will  and  Testament,  1600,  Christmas  is  de- 
scribed as — 

" sitting  in  a  corner,  turning  crabs, 

"  Or  coughing  o'er  a  warmed  pot  of  ale."     Steevens. 

1  The  wisest  aunt,]  Aunt  is  sometimes  used  for  procuress.  In 
Gascoigne's  Glass  of  Government,  15/5,  the  bawd  Pandarina  is 
always  called  aunt.  "  These  are  aunts  of  Antwerp,  which  can 
make  twenty  marriages  in  one  week  for  their  kinswoman."  See 
Winter's  Tale,  Act  IV.  sc.  i.  Among  Ray's  proverbial  phrases 
is  the  following :  "  She  is  one  of  mine  aunts  that  made  mine 
uncle  to  go  a  begging."  The  wisest  aunt  may  therefore  mean 
the  most  sentimental  bawd,  or,  perhaps,  the  most  prosaic  old 
woman.     Steevens. 

The  first  of  these  conjectures  is  much  too  wanton  and  injuri- 
ous to  the  word  aunt,  which  in  this  place  at  least  certainly  means 
no  other  than  an  innocent  old  "woman.     Ritson. 

*  And  tailor  cries,]  The  custom  of  crying  tailor  at  a  sudden 
fall  backwards,  I  think  I  remember  to  have  observed.  He  that 
slips  beside  his  chair,  falls  as  a  tailor  squats  upon  his  board.  The 
Oxford  editor,  and  Dr.  Warburton  after  him,  read — and  rails  or 
cries,  plausibly,  but  I  believe  not  rightly.  Besides,  the  trick  of 
the  fairy  is  represented  as  producing  rather  merriment  than  anger. 

Johnson. 
This  phrase  perhaps  originated  in  a  pun.     Your  tail  is  now  on 
the  ground.     See  Camden's  Remaines,  i6"l4,  Provekbs.   "  Be- 
tween two  stools  the  tayle  goeth  to  the  ground."     Ma  lone. 

3 hold  their  hips,  and  loffe;]  So,  in  Milton's  L' Allegro  : 

"  And  laughter  holding  both  his  sides."     Steevens. 

*  And  waxen  — ]  And  encrease,  as  the  moon  waxes. 

Johnson. 
A  feeble  sense  may  be  extracted  from  the  foregoing  words  as 


Sf,  /.  DREAM.  353 

But  room,  Faery,5  here  comes  Oberon. 

Fai.  And  here  my  mistress: — 'Would  that  he 
were  gone ! 

they  stand ;  but  Dr.  Farmer  observes  to  me  that  ivazen  is  proba- 
bly corrupted  from  yoxen,  or  yexen.  Yoxe  Saxon,  to  hiccup* 
Yyxyn.     Singu/tio.  Prompt.  Parv. 

Thus  in  Chaucer's  Reve's  Tale,  v.  4149: 

"  He  yoxetli,  and  he  speaketh  thurgh  the  nose." 
Again,  in  the  preface  to  XII.  mery  Jestes  of  the  IVyddoiv  Edyth, 
15/5 : 

"  Beside  the  cough,  a  bloudy  flyx, 
"  And  cuir  among  a  deadly  yex." 
Again,  iu  Philemon  Holland's  translation  of  the  27th  Book  of 
Pliny,  chap  v:  " — and  also  they  do  stay  the  excessive  yex  or 
hocket." 

That  yex,  however,  was  a  familiar  word  so  late  as  the  time  of 
Ainsworth  the  lexicographer,  is  clear  from  his  having  produced 
it  as  a  translation  of  the  Latin  substantive — singultus. 

The  meaning  of  the  passage  before  us  will  then  be,  that  the 
objects  of  Puck's  waggery  laughed  till  their  laughter  ended  in  a 
yex  or  hiccup. 

It  should  be  remembered,  in  support  of  this  conjecture,  that 
Puck  is  at  present  speaking  with  an  affectation  of  ancient  phrase- 
ology.     STEBVEN8. 

s  But  room,  Faery,]  Thus  the  old  copies.  Some  of  our  modern 
editors  read — "  But  make  room,  Fairy."  The  word  Fairy,  or 
Faery,  was  sometimes  of  three  syllables,  as  often  in  Spenser. 

Johnson. 


vol.  IV.  A  A 


554  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S         actil 


SCENE  II. 

Enter  Oberon,6  at  one  door,  with  his  train,  and 
Titania,7  at  another,  with  hers. 

Obe.  Ill  met  by  moon-light,  proud  Titania. 

Tita.  What,  j ealous  Oberon  ?  Fairy,  skip  hence ; 
I  have  forsworn  his  bed  and  company. 

Obe.  Tarry,  rash  wanton  ;   Am  not  I  thy  lord  ? 

Tita.  Then  I  must  be  thy  lady:  But  I  know- 
When  thou  hast  stol'n  away  from  fairy  land, 
And  in  the  shape  of  Corin  sat  all  day, 
Playing  on  pipes  of  corn,8  and  versing  love9 


6  Enter  Oberon,]  Oberon  had  been  introduced  on  the  stage 
in  1594,  by  some  other  author.  In  the  Stationers'  books  is  en- 
tered "  The  Scottishe  Story  of  James  the  Fourthe,  slain  at  Flod- 
den,  intermixed  with  a  pleasant  Comedie  presented  by  Oberon, 
King  of  Fairies."  The  judicious  editor  of  The  Canterbury  Tales 
of  Chaucer,  in  his  Introductory  Discourse,  (See  Vol.  IV.  p.  l6l,) 
observes  that  Pluto  and  Proserpina  in  The  Merchant's  Tale,  ap- 
pear to  have  been  "  the  true  progenitors  of  Oberon  and  Titania." 

Steevens. 

7  Titania,']  As  to  the  Fairy  Queen,  (says  Mr.  Warton,  in 
his  Observations  on  Spenser, )  considered  apart  from  the  race  of 
fairies,  Chaucer,  in  his  Rime  of  Sir  Thopas,  mentions  her,  to- 
gether with  a  Fairy  land.  Again,  in  The  Wif  of  Bathes  Talet 
v.  6439 : 

"  In  olde  dayes  of  the  king  Artour, 

"  Of  which  that  Bretons  speken  gret  honour  ; 

"  All  was  this  lond  fulfilled  of  faerie ; 

"  The  Elf-quene,  with  hire  joly  compagnie 

"  Danced  ful  oft  in  many  a  grene  mede  : 

"  This  was  the  old  opinion  as  I  rede."     Steevens. 

8  Playing  on  pipes  of  corn,]   Richard  Bratlnvaite  ( Strappado 
for  the  Devil,  1615,)  has  a  poem  addressed  "  To  the  queen  of 

harvest,  &c.  much  honoured  by  the  reed,  corn-pipe,  and  whistle  :" 
and  it  must  be  remembered,  that  the  shepherd  boys  of  Chaucer's 
time,  had — 


sc.ri.  DREAM.  35  3 

To  amorous  Phillida.     Why  art  thou  here, 
Come  from  the  farthest  steep  of  India  ? 
But  that,  forsooth,  the  bouncing  Amazon, 
Your  buskin'd  mistress,  and  your  warrior  love, 
To  Theseus  must  be  wedded ;  and  you  come 
To  give  their  bed  joy  and  prosperity. 

Obe.  How  canst  thou  thus,  for  shame,  Titania, 
Glance  at  my  credit  with  Hippolyta, 
Knowing  I  know  thy  love  to  Theseus  ? 
Didst  thou  not  lead  him  through  the  glimmering 

night * 
From  Perigenia,  whom  he  ravished?2 


" many  a  floite  and  litling  home, 

"  And. pipes  made  qfgreent  come."     Ritson. 

9  versing  love — ]  Perhaps  Prior  was  the  last  who  em- 
ployed this  verb : 

"  And  Mat  mote  praise  what  Topaz  verseth." 

Steevens. 

1  Didst  thou  not  lead  him  through  the  glimmering  night — ] 
The  glimmering  night  is  the  night  faintly  illuminated  by  stars. 
In  Macbeth  our  author  says  : 

"  The  west  yet  glimmers  with  some  streaks  of  day." 

Steevens. 

!  From  Perigenia,  whom  he  ravished?'}  Thus  all  the  editors, 
but  our  author  who  diligently  perused  Plutarch,  and  gleaned  from 
him,  where  his  subject  would  admit,  knew,  from  the  life  of 
Theseus,  that  her  name  was  Perygine,  (or  Perigune,)  by  whom 
Theseus  had  his  son  Melanippus.  She  was  the  daughter  of 
Sinnis,  a  cruel  robber,  and  tormenter  of  passengers  in  the 
Isthmus.  Plutarch  and  Athenaeus  are  both  express  in  the  cir- 
cumstance of  Theseus  ravishing  her.     Theobald. 

In  North's  translation  of  Plutarch  (Life  of  Theseus)  this  lady 
is  called  Perigouna.  The  alteration  was  probably  intentional, 
for  the  sake  of  harmony .     Her  real  name  was  Perigx 

Malone. 

Mg\6,  Ariadne,  and  Antiopa,  were  all  at  different  times  mis- 
tresses to  Theseus.     See  Plutarch. 

Theobald  cannot  be  blamed  for  his  emendation  ;  and  yet  it  Ls 
well  known  that  our  ancient  authors,  as  well  as  the  French  and 


A  A  2 


356  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S        act  it: 

And  make  him  with  fair  2Eg\e  break  his  faith, 
With  Ariadne,  and  Antiopa  ? 

Tita.  These  are  the  forgeries  of  jealousy: 
And  never,  since  the  middle  summer's  spring,3 
Met  we  on  hill,  in  dale,  forest,  or  mead, 
By  paved  fountain,4  or  by  rushy  brook, 


the  Italians,  were  not  scrupulously  nice  about  proper  names,  but 
almost  always  corrupted  them.     St-eevens. 

3  And  never,  since  the  middle  summer's  spring,  fyc]  By  the 
middle  summer's  spring,  our  author  seems  to  mean  the  beginning 
of  middle  or  mid  summer.     Spring,  for  beginning,  he  uses  again 

V  TT  rrr    T-«      tt  r  °  °  b  ° 

in  Ring  Henry  IV.  P.  II: 

"  As  flaws  congealed  in  the  spring  of  day :" 
which  expression  has  authority  from  the  scripture,  St.  Luke,  i.  /8 : 

" whereby  the  day-spring  from  on  high  hath  visited  us." 

Again,  in  the  romance  of  Kyng  Appolyn  of  Thyre,  1510: 

" arose  in  amornynge  at  the  sprynge  of  the  day,"  &c. 

Again,  in  Spenser's  Fairy  Queen,  B.  III.  c.  x: 

"  He  wooed  her  till  day-spring  he  espyde."     Steevens, 

So  Holinshed,  p.  4£)4  :  "  — the  morrowe  after  about  the  spring 
of  the  daie — ."     Malone. 

The  middle  summer's  spring,  is,  I  apprehend,  the  season  when 
trees  put  forth  their  second,  or,  as  they  are  frequently  called, 
their  midsummer  shoots.  Thus,  Evelyn  in  his  Silva  :  "  Cut  off 
all  the  side  boughs,  and  especially  at  midsummer,  if  you  spy  them 
breaking  out."  And  again,  "  Where  the  rows  and  brush  lie 
longer  than  midsummer,  unbound,  or  made  up,  you  endanger  the 
loss  of  the  second  spring."     Henley. 

*  Parted  fountain,']  A  fountain  laid  round  the  edge  with  stone. 

Johnson. 

Perhaps  paved  at  the  bottom.  So,  Lord  Bacon  in  his  Essay 
on  Gardens :  "  As  for  the  other  kind  offountaine,  which  we 
may  callabathing-poole,  it  may  admit  much  curiosity  and  beauty 
....  As  that  the  bottom  be  finely  paved  ....  the  sides  like- 
wise," &c.     Steevens. 

The  epithet  seems  here  intended  to  mean  no  more  than  that 
the  beds  of  these  fountains  were  covered  with  pebbles,  in  oppo- 
sition to  those  of  the  rushy  brooks  which  are  oozy. 

The  same  expression  is  used  by  Sylvester  in  a  similar  sense : 
•  "-  By  some  cleare  river's  \iWie-paved  side."     Henley. 


sc.n.  DREAM.  351 

Or  on  the  beached  margent5  of  the  sea, 
To  dance  our  ringlets  to  the  whistling  wind, 
Bat  with  thy  brawls  thou  hast  disturb'd  our  sport. 
Therefore  the  winds,  piping6  to  us  in  vain, 
As  in  revenge,  have  suck'd  up  from  the  sea 
Contagious  fogs ;  which  falling  in  the  land, 
Have  every  pelting  river 7  made  so  proud, 
That  they  have  overborne  their  continents : 8 
The  ox  hath  therefore  stretch'd  his  yoke  in  vain, 
The  ploughman  lost  his  sweat ;  and  the  green  corn 
Hath  rotted,  ere  his  youth  attain'd  a  beard : 9 

s  Or  on  the  beached  margent  — ]  The  old  copies  read — Or  in. 
Corrected  by  Mr.  Pope.     M  alone. 

0 the  wind*,  piping — ]  So,  Milton: 

"  While  rocking  winds,  are  piping  loud."     Johnson. 

And  Gawin  Douglas,  in  his  translation  of  the  JEneid,  p.  6Q, 
1/10,  fol.  Edinb. 

"  The  soft  piping  wynd  calling  to  se." 

The  Glossographer  observes,  "  we  say  a. piping  wind,  when  an 
ordinary  gale  bloivs,  and  the  wind  is  neither  too  loud  nor  too 
calm.'"     Holt  White. 

7 pelting  river — ]  Thus  the  quartos:  the  folio  reads — 

petti/.  Sbakspeare  has  in  Lear  the  same  word,  low  pelting  farms. 
The  meaning  is  plainly,  despicable,  mean,  sorry,  wretched;  but 
as  it  is  a  word  without  any  reasonable  etymology,  I  should  be 
glad  to  dismiss  it  for  petty:  yet  it  is  undoubtedly  right.  We  have 
"  petty  pelting  officer"  in  Measure  for  Measure.     Johnson. 

So,  in  Gascoigne's  Glass  of  Government,  15/5  : 

"  Doway  is  a  pelting  town  pack'd  full  of  poor  scholars.'? 
This  word  is  always  used  as  a  word  of  contempt.     So,  again, 
in  Lyly's  Midas,  I5y2  :  "  — attire  never  used  but  of  old  women 
and  pelting  priests."     Steevens. 

9  overborne  their  continents:]   Borne  down  the  banks 

that  contain  them.     So,  in  Lear  : 

" close  pent  up  guilts, 

"  Hive  your  concealing  continents!"     Johnson. 

and  the  green  corn 


Hath   rolled,   ere  his  youth   attain  d  a  beard:]   So,  in  our 
author's  12th  Sonnet: 


358  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S        act  n. 

The  fold  stands  empty  in  the  drowned  field, 
And  crows  are  fatted  with  the  murrain  flock  ; l 
The  nine  men's  morris  is  fiil'd  up  with  mud ; 2 


"  And  summer's  green,  all  girded  up  in  sheaves, 
"  Borne  on  the  bier  with  white  and  bristly  beard." 

Malone. 

1  murrain  flock  ;]    The  murrain  is  the  plague  in  cattle. 

It  is  here  used  by  Shakspeare  as  an  adjective  ;  as  a  substantive 
by  others : 

" sends  him  as  a  murrain 

"  To  strike  our  herds ;  or  as  a  worser  plague, 
"  Your  people  to  destroy." 

Heywood's  Silver  Age,  1613.     Steevens. 

*  The  nine  men's  morris  is  Jill*  d  up  with  mud ;]  In  that  part  of 
Warwickshire  where  Shakspeare  was  educated,  and  the  neigh- 
bouring parts  of  Northamptonshire,  the  shepherds  and  other  boys 
dig  up  the  turf  with  their  knives  to  represent  a  sort  of  imperfect 
chess-board.  It  consists  of  a  square,  sometimes  only  a  foot  dia- 
meter, sometimes  three  or  four  yards.  Within  this  is  another 
square,  every  side  of  which  is  parallel  to  the  external  square;  and 
these  squares  are  joined  by  lines  drawn  from  each  corner  of  both 
squares,  and  the  middle  of  each  line.  One  party,  or  player,  has 
wooden  pegs,  the  other  stones,  which  they  move  in  such  a  man- 
ner as  to  take  up  each  other's  men  as  they  are  called,  and  the 
area  of  the  inner  square  is  called  the  pound,  in  which  the  men 
taken  up  are  impounded.  These  figures  are  by  the  country  peo- 
ple called  Nine  Men*s  Morris,  or  Merrils ;  and  are  so  called, 
because  each  party  has  nine  men.  These  figures  are  always  cut 
upon  the  green  turf  or  leys,  as  they  are  called,  or  upon  the  gi'ass 
at  the  end  of  ploughed  lands,  and  in  rainy  seasons  never  fail  to 
be  choaked  up  with  mud.     James. 

See  Peck  on  Milton's  Masque,  115,  Vol.  I.  p.  135. 

Steevens. 

Nine  men's  morris  is  a  game  still  played  by  the  shepherds,  cow- 
keepers,  &c.  in  the  midland  counties,  as  follows : 

A  figure  is  made  in  the  ground  (like  this  which  I  have  drawn) 
by  cutting  out  the  turf;  and  two  persons  take  each  nine  stones, 
which  they  place  by  turns  in  the  angles,  and  afterwards  move 
alternately,  as  at  chess  or  draughts.  He  who  can  place  three  in 
a  straight  line,  may  then  take  oft' any  one  of  his  adversary's,  where 
he  pleases,  till  one,  having  lost  all  his  men,  loses  the  game. 


SC.  II. 


DREAM. 


359 


And  the  quaint  mazes  in  the  wanton  <p'een,3 
For  lack  of  tread,  are  undistinguishabie  : 


Alchorne. 


In  Cotgrave's  Dictionary,  under  the  article  Merelles,  is  the 
following  explanation  :  "  Le  Jeu  des  Merelles.  The  boyish  game 
called  Merils,  or  fivepenny  morris;  played  here  most  commonly 
with  stones,  but  in  France  with  pawns,  or  men  made  on  purpose, 
and  termed  merelles."  The  pawns  or  figures  of  men  used  in  the 
game  might  originally  be  black-,  and  hence  called  morris,  or  me- 
relles, as  we  yet  term  a  black  cherry  a  morello,  and  a  small  black 
cherry  a  merry,  perhaps  from  Maurus  or  Moor,  or  rather  from 
7norum,  a  mulberry.     Tollet. 

The  jeu  de  merelles  was  also  a  table-game.  A  representation 
of  two  monkies  engaged  at  this  amusement,  may  be  seen  in  a 
German  edition  of  Petrarch  de  remedio  utriusque  fortunae,  13.  I. 
ch.  2(5.     The  cuts  to  this  book  were  done  in  1520.     Douce. 

3 the  quaint  mazes  in  the  wanton  green,']  This  alludes  to 

a  sport  still  followed  by  boys ;  i.  e.  what  is  now  called  running 
ihejigure  of  eight.     Steevens.     . 


S60  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S         actu. 

The  human  mortals4  want  their  winter  here;5 


4  The  human  mortals  — ]  Shakspeare  might  have  employed  this 
epithet,  which,  at  first  sight,  appears  redundant,  to  mark  the  dif- 
ference between  men  and  fairies.  Fairies  were  not  human,  but 
they  were  yet  subject  to  mortality.  It  appears  from  the  romance 
of  Sir  Huon  of  Bordeaux,  that  Oberon  himself  was  mortal. 

The  same  phrase,  however,  occurs  in  Chapman's  translation  of 
Homer's  address  to  Earth,  the  mother  of  all  : 

" referr'd  to  thee 

"  For  life  and  death,  is  all  the  pedigree 

"  Of  mortal  humans."     Steevens. 

"  This,  however,  (says  Mr.  Ritson,)  does  not  by  any  means 
appear  to  be  the  case.  Oberon,  Titania,  and  Puck,  never  dye  ; 
the  inferior  agents  must  necessarily  be  supposed  to  enjoy  the  same 
privilege :  and  trie  ingenious  commentator  may  rely  upon  it,  that 
the  oldest  woman  in  England  never  heard  of  the  death  of  a  Fairy. 
Human  mortals  is,  notwithstanding,  evidently  put  in  opposition 
to  f  .iries  who  partook  of  a  middle  nature  between  men  and  spi- 
rit .,  It  is  a  misfortune,  as  well  to  the  commentators  as  to  the 
readers  of  Shakspeare,  that  so  much  of  their  time  is  obliged  to 
be  t  m  loved  m  explaining  and  contradicting  unfounded  conjec- 
tures and  assertions.  Spenser  in  his  Fairy  Queen,  B.  II.  c.  x. 
says,  (I  use  the  words  of  Mr.  Warton  ;  Observations  on  Spenser, 
Vol.  I.  p.  55,)  "  That  man  was  first  made  by  Prometheus,  was 
called  FJfe,  who  wandering  over  the  world,  at  length  arrived  at 
the  gardens  of  Adonis,  where  he  found  a  female  whom  he  called 
Fay. — The  issue  of  Fife  and  Fay  were  called  Fairies,  who  soon 
grew  to  be  a  niighty  people,  and  conquered  all  nations.  Their 
eldest  son  Flfin  governed  America,  and  the  next  to  him,  named 
Elfinan,  founded  the  city  of  Cleopolis,  which  was  enclosed  with 
a  golden  wall  bv  Elfinine.  His  son  Elfin  overcame  the  Gobbe- 
lines :  but  of  all  fairies,  Elfant  was  the  most  renowned,  who 
built  Panthea  of  chrystal.  To  these  succeeded  Elfar,  who  slew 
two  brethren  giants  ;  and  to  him  Elfinor,  who  built  a  bridge  of 
glass  over  the  sea,  the  sound  of  which  was  like  thunder.  At 
le  igth,  Elfich  os  ruled  the  Fairy-land  with  much  wisdom,  and 
highly  advanced  its  power  and  honour:  he  left  two  sons,  the 
eldest  of  which,  fair  Elferon,  died  a  premature  death,  his  place 
being  supplied  by  the  mighty  Oberon  ;  a  prince,  whose  '  wide 
memorial'  still  remains  ;  who  dying  left  Tanaquil  to  succeed  him 
by  will,  she  being  also  called  Gloriaa  or  Gloriana."  I  transcribe 
this  pedigree,  merely  to  prove  that  in  Shakspeare's  time  the  no- 
tion of  Fairies  dying  was  generally  known.     Reed. 


sc.  it.  BREAM.  S6i 

No  night  is  now  with  hymn  or  carol  blest : 6 — 
Therefore  the  moon,  the  governess  of  floods, 
Pale  in  her  anger,  washes  all  the  air, 
That  rheumatick  diseases  do  abound  : 7 


Mr.  Reed  might  here  have  added  the  names  of  many  divines 
and  philosophers,  whose  sentiments  coincide  with  his  own  posi- 
tion on  this  subject :  "  —  post  prolixuin  tempus  moriuntur  om- 
nes  :"  i.  e.  aerial  and  familiar  spirits,  &e.  were  all  mortal.  See 
Burton's  Anatomy  of  Melancholy,  edit.  1032,  p.  42. 

Steevens. 

5  their  winter  here ;]     Here,  in  this  countr}r. — I  once 

inclined  to  receive  the  emendation  proposed  by  Mr.  Theobald, 
and  adopted  by  Sir  T.  Hanmer, — their  winter  cheer  ;  but  perhaps 
alteration  is  unnecessary.  "  Their  winter"  may  mean  those 
sports  with  which  country  people  are  wont  to  beguile  a  winter's 
evening,  at  the  season  of  Christmas,  which,  it  appears  from  the 
next  line,  was  particularly  in  our  author's  contemplation  : 

"  The  wery  winter  nights  restore  the  Christmas  games, 
"  And   now  the  seson  doth  invite  to  banquet  townish 
dames."     Romeus  and  Juliet,  1562.     Maloxe. 

I  have  already  expressed  my  opinion,  that  winter-cheer  is  the 
true  reading  ;  and  am  confirmed  in  it  by  the  following  passage  in 
Fletcher's  Prophetess,  where  the  shepherd  says : 

"  Our  evening  dances  on  the  green,  our  songs, 

"  Our  holiday  good  cheer  ;  our  bagpipes  now,  boys, 

"  Shall  make  the  wanton  lasses  skip  again !" 

M.  Mason-. 

6  No  night  is  now  with  hymn  or  carol  blest :]  Since  the  com- 
ing of  Christianity,  this  season,  [winter,]  in  commemoration  of 
the  birth  of  Christ,  has  been  particularly  devoted  to  festivity. 
And  to  this  custom,  notwithstanding  the  impropriety,  hymn  or 
carol  bled  certainly  alludes.     Wauburtox. 

Hymns  and  carols,  in  the  time  of  Shakspeare,  during  the  sea- 
son of  Christmas,  were  sung  every  night  about  the  streets,  as  a 
pretext  for  collecting  money  from  house  to  house.     Steevens. 

7  Thai  rheumatick  diseases  do  abound;]  Rheumatick  diseases 
signified  in  Shakspeare's  time,  not  what  we  now  <?all  rheumatism, 
but  distillations  from  the  head,  catarrhs,  &c.  So,  in  a  paper  en- 
titled "  The  State  of  Sir  H.  Sydney's  bodie,  &c.  Feb.  1507  ;" 
Sydney's  Memorials,  Vol.  I.  p.  cj-1  :  "  — he  hath  verie  much 
distempered  diverse  parts  of  his  bodie,  as  namely,  his  hedde,'his 


SG2  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S         actii. 

And  thorough  this  distemperature, 8  we  see 


stomach,  &c.  and  thereby  is  always  subject  to  coughes,  distilla- 
tions, and  other  rumatic  diseases"     Malone. 

Therefore  the  moon,  the  governess  of  Jloods,  &c]  The  re- 
peated adverb  therefore,  throughout  this  speech,  I  suppose  to 
have  constant  reference  to  the  first  time  when  it  is  used.  All 
these  irregularities  of  season  happened  in  consequence  of  the  dis- 
agreement between  the  king  and  queen  of  the  fairies,  and  not 
in  consequence  of  each  other.  Ideas  crouded  fast  on  Shakspeare  ; 
and  as  he  committed  them  to  paper,  he  did  not  attend  to  the 
distance  of  the  leading  object  from  which  they  took  their  rise. 
Mr.  Malone  concurs  with  me  on  this  occasion. 

That  the  festivity  and  hospitality  attending  Christmas,  de- 
creased, was  the  subject  of  complaint  to  many  of  our  ludicrous 
writers.  Among  the  rest  to  Nash,  whose  comedy  called  Sum- 
mer's Last  Will  and  Testament,  made  its  first  appearance  in  the 
same  year  with  this  play,  viz.  loOO.  There  Christmas  is  intro- 
duced, and  Summer  says  to  him  : 

"  Christmas,  how  chance  thou  com'st  not  as  the  rest, 
"  Accompanied  with  some  music  or  some  song  ? 
"  A  merry  carrol  would  have  grac'd  thee  well, 
"  Thy  ancestors  have  us'd  it  heretofore." 
"  Christmas.  Ay,  antiquity  was  the  mother  of  ignorance,"  &c. 
and  then  proceeds  to  give  reasons  for  such  a  decay  in  mirth  and 
house-keeping. 

The  confusion  of  seasons  here  described,  is  no  more  than  a 
poetical  account  of  the  weather,  which  happened  in  England 
about  the  time  when  the  Midsummer- Night's  Dream  was  writ- 
ten. For  this  information  I  am  indebted  to  chance,  which  fur- 
nished me  with  a  few  leaves  of  an  old  meteorological  history. 

The  date  of  the  piece,  however,  may  be  better  determined  by 
a  description  of  the  same  weather  in   Churchyard's   Charitie, 
1595,  when,  says  he,  "  a  colder  season,  in  all  sorts,  was  never 
seene."  He  then  proceeds  to  say  the  same  over  again  in  rhyme  : 
"  A  colder  time  in  w7orld  was  neuer  seene  : 
"  The  skies  do  lowre,  the  sun  and  moone  waxe  dim ; 
"  Sommer  scarce  knowne  but  that  the  leaues  are  greene. 
"  The  winter's  waste  driues  water  ore  the  brim  ; 
"  Upon  the  land  great  flotes  of  wood  may  swim. 
"  Nature  thinks  scorne  to  do  hir  dutie  right, 
"  Because  we  have  displeasde  the  Lord  of  Light." 
Let  the  reader  compare  these  lines  with  Shakspeare's,  and  he 


sc.  ii.  DREAM.  363 

The  seasons  alter  :  hoary-headed  frosts 

will  find  that  they  are  both  descriptive  of  the  same  weather  and 
its  consequences. 

Churchyard  is  not  enumerating,  on  this  occasion,  fictitious  but 
real  misfortunes.  He  wrote  the  present  poem  to  excite  Charity 
on  his  own  behalf;  and  among  his  other  sufferings  very  naturally 
dwelt  on  the  coldness  of  the  season,  which  his  poverty  had  ren- 
dered the  less  supportable. 

L'Allegro,  and  il  Penseroso,  will  naturally  impute  one  incident 
to  different  causes.  Shakspeare,  in  prime  of  life  and  success, 
fancifully  ascribes  this  distemperature  of  seasons  to  a  quarrel  be- 
tween the  playful  rulers  of  the  fairy  world  ;  while  Churchyard, 
broken  down  by  age  and  misfortunes,  is  seriously  disposed  to  re- 
present the  same  inclemency  of  weather,  as  a  judgement  from 
the  Almighty  on  the  offences  of  mankind.     Steevens. 

Therefore  the  moon,  the  governess  of  floods,  &c]  This  line 
has  no  immediate  connection  with  that  preceding  it  (as  Dr. 
Johnson  seems  to  have  thought).  It  does  not  refer  to  the  omis- 
sion of  hymns  or  carols,  but  of  the  fairy  rites,  which  were  dis- 
turbed in  consequence  of  Oberon's  quarrel  with  Titania.  The 
moon  is  with  peculiar  propriety  represented  as  incensed  at  the 
cessation — not  of  the  carols,  (as  Dr.  Warburton  thinks,)  nor  of 
the  heathen  rites  of  adoration,  (as  Dr.  Johnson  supposes,)  but 
of  those  sports,  which  have  been  always  reputed  to  be  celebrated 
by  her  light. 

As  the  whole  passage  has  been  much  misunderstood,  it  ma}r 
be  proper  to  observe,  that  Titania  begins  witii  saying : 
"  And  never,  since  the  middle  summer's  spring, 
"  Met  we  on  hill,  in  dale,  forest,  or  mead, — 
"  But  with  thy  brawls  thou  hast  disturb' d  our  sport." 
She  then  particularly  enumerates  the  several  consequences  that 
have  flowed  from  their  contention.     1  he  v.  hole  is  divided  into 
four  clauses  : 

1.  "    'l'h  ere  fore  the  winds,  &c. 

"  That  they  have  overborne  their  continents  : 

2.  "  The  ox  hath  therefore  streteh'd  his  yoke  in  vain; 
"  The  ploughman  lost  his  sweat ; 

"  No  night  is  now  with  hymn  or  carol  blest; 

3.  "  Therefore  the  moon — washes  all  the  air, 
"  That  rheumatick  diseases  do  abound  : 

4.  "  And,  thorough  this  distemperature,  we  see, 
"  The  seasons  alter  ; 


u 


and  the  'mazed  world, 

By  their  increase,  now  knows  not  which  is  which 


864  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S        act  /j. 

Fall  in  the  fresh  lap  of  the  crimson  rose ; 9 
And  on  old  Hyenas'  chin,1  and  icy  crown, 
An  odorous  chaplet  of  sweet  summer  buds 


"  And  this  same  progeny  of  evils  comes 
"  From  our  debate,  from  our  dissention." 
In  all  this  there  is  no  difficulty.  All  these  calamities  are  the 
consequences  of  the  dissention  between  Oberon  and  Titania  ;  as 
seems  to  be  sufficiently  pointed  out  by  the  word  therefore,  so 
often  repeated.  Those  lines  which  have  it  not,  are  evidently 
put  in  apposition  with  the  preceding  line  in  which  that  word  is 
found.  Malone. 

8  this  distemperature,]     Is,   this  perturbation    of    the 

elements.     Steevens. 

By  distemperature,  I  imagine  is  meant,  in  this  place,  the  per- 
turbed state  in  which  the  king  and  queen  had  lived  for  some 
time  past.     Malone. 

Perhaps  Mr.  Malone  has  truly  explained  the  force  of  the 
word  in  question.     So,  in  Romeo  and  Juliet  : 

"  Thou  art  up-rous'd  by  some  distemperature" 

Steevens. 

9  Fall  in  the  fresh  lap  of  the  crimson  rose  ;]  To  have  "  snow 
in  the  lap  of  June,"  is  an  expression  used  in  Northward  Hoe, 
1607,  and  Shakspeare  himself  in  Coriolanus,  talks  of  the  "  con- 
secrated snow  that  lies  on  Dian's  lap:'"  and  Spenser  in  his 
Fairy  Queen,  B.  II.  c.  ii.  has  : 

"  And  fills  with  flow'rs  fair  Flora's  painted  lap." 

Steevens. 

This  thought  is  elegantly  expressed  by  Goldsmith  in  his  Tra- 
veller : 

"  And  winter  lingering  chills  the  lap  of  May." 


M.  Mason. 

»  Hi/ems'  chin,]  Dr.  Grey,  not  inelegantly,  conjectures, 

that  the  poet  wrote : 

on  old  Hi/ ems*  chill  and  icy  croivn. 

It  is  not  indeed  easy  to  discover  how  a  chaplet  can  be  placed 
on  the  chin.     Steevens. 

I  believe  this  peculiar  image  of  Hyem's  chin  must  have  come 
from  Virgil,  ( JEneid  iv.  253,)  through  the  medium  of  the 
translation  of  the  day : 

" turn  flumina  mento 

"  Precipitant  senis,  et  glacie  riget  hprrida  barba;"  S.  W. 

Thus  translated  by  Phaer,  1561 : 


u.  DREAM.  365 

Is,  as  in  mockery,  set :  The  spring,  the  summer, 
The  childing  autumn,2  angry  winter,  change 
Their  wonted  liveries  ;  and  the  'mazed  world, 

" and  from  his  hoary  beard  adowne, 

"  The  streames  of  waters  fall ;  with  yce  and  frost  his 

face  doth  frowne." 
This  singular  image  was,  I  believe,  suggested  to  our  poet  by 
Golding's  translation  of  Ovid,  Book  II : 

"  And  lastly,   quaking  for  the  colde,  stood   Winter  all 

forlorne, 
"  With  rugged  head  as  white  as  dove,  and  garments  all 

to  torne, 
"  Forladen  with  the  isycles,  that  dangled  up  and  downe 
"  Upon  his  gray  and  hoarie  beard,  and  snowie  frozen 

crown."     Malone. 

1  should  rather  be  for  thin,  i.  e.  thin-hair'd.     Tyrwhitt. 

So,  Cordelia,  speaking  of  Lear  : 

" to  watch,  poor  perdu ! 

"  With  this  thin  helm." 
Again,  in  King  Richard  II: 

"  White-beards  have  arm'd  their  thin  and  hairless  scalps 
"  Against  thy  majesty; — "     Steevens. 

Thinne  is  nearer  to  chinne  (the  spelling  of  the  old  copies)  than 
chill,  and  therefore,  I  think,  more  likely  to  have  been  the  au- 
thor's word.     Malone. 

2  The  childing  autumn,']  Is  the  pregnant  autumn,  frugifer 
autumnus.     So,  in  Heywood's  Brazen  Age,  1(3 13  : 

"  Fifty  in  number  childed  all  one  night." 
Again,  in  his  Golden  Age,  l6ll  : 

"  I  childed  in  a  cave  remote  and  silent." 
Again,  in  his  Silver  Age,  1613  : 

"  And  at  one  instant  he  shall  child  two  issues." 
There  is  a  rose  called  the  childing  rose.     Steevens. 

Again,  in  Tasso's  Godfrey  ofBulloigne,  by  Fairfax,  B.  XVTII. 
st.  20  : 

"  An  hundreth  plants  beside  (even  in  his  sight) 
"  Child*  d  an  hundreth  nymphes  so  great,  so  dight." 
Childing  is  an  old  term  in  botany,  when  a  small  flower  grows 
out  of  a  large  one;  "  the  childing  autumn,"  therefore  means 
the  autumn  which  unseasonably  produces  Mowers  on  those  of 
summer.  FlorUtS  have  also  a  childing  daisy,  and  a  childing 
iitahious.     Holt  Wjhte. 


366  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S         act  ii. 

By  their  increase,3  now  knows  not' which  is  which  : 
And  this  same  progeny  of  evils  comes 
From  our  debate,  from  our  dissention ; 
We  are  their  parents  and  original. 

Obe.  Do  you  amend  it  then  ;  it  lies  in  you  : 
Why  should  Titania  cross  her  Oberon  ? 
I  do  but  beg  a  little  changeling  boy, 
To  be  my  henchman.4 


3  By  their  increase,]  That  is,  By  their  produce.     Johnson. 

So,  in  our  author's  9/th  Sonnet : 

"  The  teeming  autumn,  big  with  rich  increase, 
"  Bearing  the  wanton  burthen  of  the  prime." 
The  latter  expression  is  scriptural :   "  Then  shall  the  earth 
bring  forth  her  increase,  and  God,  even  our  God,   shall  give  us 
his  blessing."     Psalm  lxvii.     M alone. 

4  henchman.']  Page  of  honour.    This  office  was  abolished 

by  Queen  Elizabeth.     Grey. 

This  office  might  beabolished  at  court,  but  probably  remained 
in  the  city.  Glapthorne,  in  his  comedy  called  Wit  in  a  Consta- 
ble, 1640,  has  this  passage: 

" 1  will  teach  his  hench-boys, 

"  Serjeants,  and  trumpeters  to  act,  and  save 
"  The  city  all  that  charges." 
So,  again : 

"  When  she  was  lady  may'ress,  and  you  humble 
"  As  her  trim  hench-boys^ 
Again,  in  Ben  Jonson's  Christmas  Masque  :  "  — he  said  grace 
as  well  as  any  of  the  sheriff's  hench-boys." 

Skinner  derives  the  word  from  Hine  A.  S.  quasi  domesticus 
famulus.     Spelman  from  Hengstman,  equi  curator,  'nrrfOKopOf. 

Steevens. 

In  a  letter  to  the  Earl  of  Shrewsbury  dated  1 1th  of  December, 
1565,  it  is  said:  "  Her  Highness  (i.  e.  Queen  Elizabeth)  hathe 
of  late,  whereat  some  doo  moche  marvell,  dissolved  the  auncient 
office  of  Henchemen."  (Lodge's  Illustrations,  Vol.  I.  p.  358.) 
On  this  passage  Mr.  Lodge  observes  that  Henchmen  were  "  a  cer- 
tain number  of  youths,  the  sons  of  gentlemen,  who  stood  or 
walked  near  the  person  of  the  monarch  on  all  public  occasions. 
They  are  mentioned  in  the  sumptuary  statutes  of  the  4th  of  Ed- 
ward the  Fourth,  and  24th  of  Henry  VIII,  and  a  patent  is  pre- 
served in  the  Fcedera,  Vol.   XV.   242,  whereby  Edward  VI. 


sc.  ii.  DREAM.  367 

Tit  a.  Set  your  heart  at  rest, 

The  fairy  land  buys  not  the  child  of  me. 
His  mother  was  a  vot'ress  of  my  order  : 
And,  in  the  spiced  Indian  air,  by  night, 
Full  often  hath  she  gossip'd  by  my  side  ; 
And  sat  with  me  on  Neptune's  yellow  sands, 
Marking  the  embarked  traders  on  the  flood  ; 
When  we  have  laugh'd  to  see  the  sails  conceive, 
And  grow  big-bellied,  with  the  wanton  wind : 5 


gives  to  William  Buklcy,  M.  A.  propter  gravitatem  morum  et 
doctrines  abundantiam,  qfficium  docendi,  erudiendi,  atque  insti- 
fuendi  adolescentidos  vocatos  Henchmen;  with  a  salary  of* 40l. 
per  annum.  Henchman,  or  Heinsmen,  is  a  German  word,  as 
Blount  informs  us  in  his  Glossographia,  signifying  a  domestic, 
whence  our  ancient  term  Hind,  a  servant  in  the  house  of  a 
farmer.  Dr.  Percy,  in  a  note  on  the  Earl  of  Northumberland's 
household-book,  with  less  probability,  derives  the  appellation 
from  their  custom  of  standing  by  the  side,  or  Haunch,  of  their 
Lord.     Reed. 

Upon  the  establishment  of  the  household  of  Edward  IV.  were 
"  henxmen  six  enfant s,  or  more,  as  it  pleyseth  the  king,  eatinge 
in  the  halle,  &c.  There  was  also  a  maister  of  the  henxmen,  to 
shewe  them  the  schoole  of  nurture,  and  learne  them  to  ride,  to 
"wear  their  harnesse ;  to  have  all  cnrtesie — to  teach  them  all 
languages,  and  other  virtues,  as  harping,  pipynge,  singing, 
dauncing,  with  honest  behavioure  of  temperaunce  and  patyencc.^ 
MS.  Harl.  2y3. 

At  the  funeral  of  Henry  VIII.  nine  henchmen  attended  with 
Sir  Francis  Bryan,  master  of  the  henchmen. 

Strype's  Eccl.  Mem.  v.  2.  App.  n.  1.     Tyrwiiitt. 

Henchman,     Quasi  haunch-man.     One  that  goes  be- 
hind another.     Pcdisequus.     Blackstone. 

The  learned  commentator  might  have  given  his  etymology 
some  support  from  the  following  passage  in  King  Henry  IV. 
P.  II.  Act  IV.  sc.  iv: 

"  O  Westmoreland,  thou  art  a  summer  bird, 
"  Which  ever  in  the  haunch  of  winter  sings 
"  The  lifting  up  of  day."     Steevens. 

J  And  grow  big-bellied  with  the  wanton  wind.]  Dryden,  in 
his  translation  of  the  i»t  Book  of  Homer's  Iliad  (and  Pope  after 
him)  were  perhaps  indebted  to  the  foregoing  passage: 


368  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S        act  ii. 

Which  she,  with  pretty  and  with  swimming  gait, 
(Following  her  womb,  then  rich  with  my  young 

'squire/') 
Would  imitate  ;  and  sail  upon  the  land, 
To  fetch  me  trifles,  and  return  again, 
As  from  a  voyage,  rich  with  merchandize. 
But  she,  being  mortal,  of  that  boy  did  die  ; 
And,  for  her  sake,  I  do  rear  up  her  boy : 
And,  for  her  sake,  I  will  not  part  with  him. 

" winds  suffic'd  the  sail 

"  The  bellying  canvas  strutted  with  the  gale."     Hryden. 

" indulgent  gales 

"  Supply'd  by  Phoebus,  fill  the  swelling  sails, 
*"*  The  milk-white  canvas  bellying  as  they  blow." 

Steevens. 

*  Which  she,  with  pretty  and  with  swimming  gait, 
Following  (her  womb,  then  rich  with  my  young  'squire,) 
Would  imitate  — ]     Perhaps  the  parenthesis  should  begin 
sooner  ;  as  I  think  Mr.  Kenrick  observes : 

(Following  her  womb,  then  rich  with  my  young  ''squire.) 
So,  in  Trulla's  combat  with  Hudibras  : 

" She  press'd  so  home, 

"  That  he  retired,  and  follow' d's  bu?n.'>* 
And  Dryden  says  of*  his  Spanish  Friar,  "  his  great  belly  walks 
in  state  before  him,  and  his  gouty  legs  come  limping  after  it." 

Farmer. 
I  have  followed  this  regulation,  (which  is  likewise  adopted  by 
Mr.  Steevens, )  though  I  do  not  think  that  of  the  old  copy  at  all 
liable  to  the  objection  made  to  it  by  Dr.  Warburton.  "  She  did 
not,  (he  says,)  follow  the  ship  whose  motion  she  imitated;  for 
that  sailed  on  the  water,  she  on  land."  But  might  she  not  on 
land  move  in  the  same  direction  with  the  ship  at  sea,  which  cer- 
tainly would  outstrip  her?  and  what  is  this  but  following? 

Which,  according  to  the  present  regulation,  must  mean — > 
which  motion  of  the  ship  with  swelling  sails,  &c :  according  to 
the  old  regulation  it  must  refer  to  "  embarked  traders." 

.  Malone. 

This  passage,  as  it  is  printed,  appears  to  me  ridiculous.  Every 
woman  who  walks  forward  mustfllow  her  womb.  The  absurdity 
is  avoided  by  leaving  the  word.— following  out  of  the  parenthesis. 
Warburton's  grammatical  objection  has  no  foundation. 

M.  Mason, 


sc.  n.  DREAM.  S69 

Obe.  IIow  long  within  this  wood  intend  you  stay  ? 

Tita.  Perchance, tillafter  Theseus' wedding-day. 
If  you  will  patiently  dance  in  our  round, 
And  see  our  moon-light  revels,  go  with  us ; 
If  not,  shun  me,  and  I  will  spare  your  haunts. 

Obe.  Give  me  that  boy,  and  I  will  go  with  thee. 

Tita.  Not  for  thy  kingdom. — Fairies,  away:7 
We  shall  chide  down-right,  if  I  longer  stay. 

\_Ejceunt  Titania,  and  her  train. 

Obe.  Well,  go  thy  way:  thou  shalt  not  from  this 
grove, 
Till  I  torment  thee  for  this  injury. — 
My  gentle  Puck,  come  hither :  Thou  remember'st 
Since  once  I  sat  upon  a  promontory, 
And  heard  a  mermaid,  on  a  dolphin's  back, 
Uttering  such  dulcet  and  harmonious  breath, 
That  the  rude  sea  grew  civil  at  her  song ; 
And  certain  stars  shot  madly  from  their  spheres, 
To  hear  the  sea-maid's  musick.8 


'  Not  for  thy  kingdom. — Fairies,  away :]  The  ancient  copies 
read : 

Not  for  thy  fairy  kingdom. — Fairies,  away. 

By  the  advice  of*  Dr.  Farmer  I  have  omitted  the  useless  ad- 
jective fairy,  as  it  spoils  the  metre  ;  Fairies,  the  following  sub- 
stantive, being  apparently  used,  in  an  earlier  instance,  as  a 
trisyllable.     STEEVEK8. 

1  Thou  remember'st 

Since  once  I  sat  upon' a  promontory, 

And  heard  a  mermaid,  on  a  dolphin's  back, 

Uttering  such  dulcet  and  harmonious  breath, 

That  the  rude  sea  grew  civil  at  her  song  ; 

And  certain  stars  shot  madly  from  their  spheres, 

To  hear  the  sea-maid's  musick.']  The  first  thing  observable 
on  these  words  is,  that  this  action  of  the  mermaid  is  laid  in  the 
same  time  and  place  with  Cupid's  attack  upon  the  vestal.  By 
the  vestal  every  one  knows  is  meant  Queen  Elizabeth.  It  is  very 
natural  and  reasonable  then  to  think  that  the  mermaid  stands  for 
VOL.  IV.  B  B 


370  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS         act  IT. 

Puck.  I  remember. 

Obe.  That  very  time  I  saw,  (but  thou  could'st 
not,) 

some  eminent  personage  of  her  time.  And  if  so,  the  allegorical 
covering,  in  which  there  is  a  mixture  of  satire  and  panegyric, 
will  lead  us  to  conclude  that  this  person  was  one  of  whom  it  had 
been  inconvenient  for  the  author  to  speak  openly,  either  in  praise 
or  dispraise.  All  this  agrees  with  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  and 
with  no  other.  Queen  Elizabeth  could  not  bear  to  hear  her 
commended ;  and  her  successor  would  not  forgive  her  satirist. 
But  the  poet  has  so  well  marked  out  every  distinguished  circum- 
stance of  her  life  and  character  in  this  beautiful  allegory,  as  will 
leave  no  room  to  doubt  about  his  secret  meaning.  She  is  called 
a  mermaid,  1.  to  denote  her  reign  over  a  kingdom  situate  in  the 
sea,  and  2.  her  beauty,  and  intemperate  lust : 

" Ut  turpiter  atrum 

"  Desinat  in  piscem  mulier  formosa  superne." 
for  as  Elizabeth  for  her  chastity  is  called  a  vestal,  this  unfortu- 
nate lady  on  a  contrary  account  is  called  a  mermaid.  3.  An 
ancient  story  may  be  supposed  to  be  here  alluded  to.  The  em- 
peror Julian  tells  us,  Epistle  41,  that  the  Sirens  (which,  with  all 
the  modern  poets,  are  mermaids,)  contended  for  precedency  with 
the  Muses,  who,  overcoming  them,  took  away  their  wings. 
The  quarrels  between  Mary  and  Elizabeth  had  the  same  cause, 
and  the  same  issue. 

on  a  dolphin's  back,]  This  evidently  marks  out  that  dis- 
tinguishing circumstance  of  Mary's  fortune,  her  marriage  with 
the  dauphin  of  France,  son  of  Henry  II. 

Uttering  such  didcet  and  harmonious  breath,]  This  alludes  to 
her  great  abilities  of  genius  and  learning,  which  rendered  her 
the  most  accomplished  princess  of  her  age.  The  French  writers 
tell  us,  that,  while  she  was  in  that  court,  she  pronounced  a 
Latin  oration  in  the  great  hall  of  the  Louvre,  with  so  much  grace 
and  eloquence,  as  filled  the  whole  court  with  admiration. 

That  the  rude  sea  grew  civil  at  her  song  ;~\  By  the  rude  sea  is 
meant  Scotland  encircled  with  the  ocean  ;  which  rose  up  in  arms 
against  the  regent,  while  she  was  in  France.  But  her  return 
home  presently  quieted  those  disorders :  and  had  not  her  strange 
ill  conduct  afterwards  more  violently  inflamed  them,  she  might 
have  passed  her  whole  life  in  peace.  There  is  the  greater  justness 
and  beauty  in  this  image,  as  the  vulgar  opinion  is,  that  the 
mermaid  always  sings  in  storms : 

And  certain  stars  shot  madly  from  their  spheres, 

To  hear  the  sea-maid's  musick.']  This  concludes  the  description, 


sen.  DREAM.  371 

Flying  between  the  cold  moon  and  the  earth, 

with  that  remarkable  circumstance  of  this  unhappy  lady's  fate, 
the  destruction  she  brought  upon  several  of  the  English  nobility, 
whom  she  drew  in  to  support  her  cause.  This,  in  the  boldest 
expression  of  the  sublime,  the  poet  images  by  certain  stars  shoot- 
ing madly  from  their  spheres :  By  which  he  meant  the  Earls  of 
Northumberland  and  Westmoreland,  who  fell  in  her  quarrel ; 
and  principally  the  great  Duke  of  Norfolk,  whose  projected  mar- 
riage with  her  was  attended  with  such  fatal  consequences.  Here 
again  the  reader  may  observe  a  peculiar  justness  in  the  imagery. 
The  vulgar  opinion  being  that  the  mermaid  allured  men  to  de- 
struction with  her  songs.  To  which  opinion  Shakspeare  alludes 
in  his  Comedy  of  Errors : 

"  O  train  me  not,  sweet  mermaid,  with  thy  note, 
"  To  droivn  me  in  thy  sisters  flood  of  tears." 
On  the  whole,  it  is  the  noblest  and  justest  allegory'that  was  ever 
written.  The  laying  it  in  fairy  land,  and  out  of  nature,  is  in 
the  character  of  the  speaker.  And  on  these  occasions  Shakspeare 
always  excels  himself.  He  is  borne  away  by  the  magic  of  his 
enthusiasm,  and  hurries  his  reader  along  with  him  into  these 
ancient  regions  of  poetry,  by  that  power  of  verse  which  we  may 
well  fancy  to  be  like  what, 

" Olim  fauni  vatesque  canebant."     Warburton. 

And  certain  stars  shot  madly  from  their  spheres,']  So,  in  our 
author's  Rape  of  Lucrece  : 

"  And  little  stars  shot  from  their  fixed  places." 

Maloxe. 

Every  reader  maybe  induced  to  wish  that  the  foregoing  allu- 
sion, pointed  out  by  so  acute  a  critic  as  Dr.  Warburton,  should 
remain  uncontroverted ;  and  yet  I  cannot  dissemble  my  doubts 
concerning  it. — Why  is  the  thrice-married  Queen  of  Scotland 
stiled  a  .SVa-MAiD?  and  is  it  probable  that  Shakspeare  (who  un- 
derstood his  own  political  as  well  as  poetical  interest)  should  have 
ventured  such  a  panegyric  on  this  ill-fated  Princess,  during  the 
reign  of  her  rival  Elizabeth  >.  If  it  was  unintelligible  to  his 
audience,  it  was  thrown  away ;  if  obvious,  there  was  danger  of 
onxnee  to  her  Majesty. 

11  A  star  dis-orb'd,"  however,  (See  Troilus  and  Cressida,)  is 
one  of  our  author's  favourite  images ;  and  he  has  no  where  else 
so  happily  expressed  it  as  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra  ; 

" the  good  stars,  that  were  my  former  guides, 

"  Have  empty  left  their  orbs,  and  shot  their  fires 
"  Into  th'  abysm  of  hell." 

B  B  2 


372  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S        actil 

Cupid  all  arm'd  :°  a  certain  aim  he  took 


To  these  remarks  may  be  added  others  of  a  like  tendency, 
which  I  met  with  in  The  Edinburgh  Magazine,  Nov.  1/86. — 
"  That  a  compliment  to  Queen  Elizabeth  was  intended  in  the 
expression  of  the  fair  Vestal  throned  in  the  West,  seems  to  be 
generally  allowed ;  but  how  far  Shakspeare  designed,  under  the 
image  of  the  Mermaid,  to  figure  Mary  Queen  of  Scots,  is  more 
doubtful.  If  by  the  rude  sea  grew  civil  at  her  song,  is  meant, 
as  Dr.  Warburton  supposes,  that  the  tumults  of  Scotland  were 
appeased  by  her  address,  the  observation  is  not  true  ;  for  that  sea 
was  in  a  storm  during  the  whole  of  Mary's  reign.  Neither  is 
the  figure  just,  if  by  the  stars  shooting  madly  from  their  spheres 
to  hear  the  sea-maid's  musick,  the  poet  alluded  to  the  fate  of  the 
Earls  of  Northumberland  and  Westmoreland,  and  particularly  of 
the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  whose  projected  marriage  with  Mary,  was 
the  occasion  of  his  ruin.  It  would  have  been  absurd  and  irre- 
concileable  to  the  good  sense  of  the  poet,  to  have  represented  a 
nobleman  aspiring  to  marry  a  Queen,  by  the  image  of  a  star 
shooting  or  descending  from  its  sphere." 

See  also  Mr.  Ritson's  observations  on  the  same  subject.  On 
account  of  their  length,  they  are  given  at  the  end  of  the  play. 

Steevens. 

9  Cupid  all  arm'd :]  All  arm'd  does  not  signify  dressed  in  pa- 
noply, but  only  enforces  the  word  armed,  as  we  might  say,  all 
booted.     Johnson. 

So,  in  Greene's  Never  too  late,  l6l6: 

"  Or  where  proud  Cupid  sat  all  arm'd  with  fire." 
Again,  in  Lord  Surrey's  translation  of  the  4th  Book  of  the 
JEneid: 

"  All  utterly  I  could  not  seem  forsaken." 
Again,  in  King  Richard  III: 

*'  His  horse  is  slain,  and  all  on  foot  he  fights." 
Shakspeare's  compliment  to  Queen  Elizabeth  has  no  small  de- 
gree of  propriety  and  elegance  to  boast  of.  The  same  can  hardly 
be  said  of  the  following,  with  which  the  tragedy  of  Soliman  and 
Perseda,  1599,  concludes.  Death  is  the  speaker,  and  vows  he 
will  spare — 

" none  but  sacred  Cynthia  s  friend, 

"  Whom  Death  did  fear  before  her  life  began  ; 

"  For  holy  fates  have  grav'n  it  in  their  tables, 

"  That  Death  shall  die,  if  he  attempt  her  end 

"  Whose  life  is  heaven's  delight,  and  Cynthia's  friend," 


sc.  //.  DREAM.  373 

At  a  fair  vestal,  throned  by  the  west  j1 

And  loos'd  his  love-shaft  smartly  from  his  bow, 

As  it  should  pierce  a  hundred  thousand  hearts : 

But  I  might  see  young  Cupid's  fiery  shaft 

Quench'd  in  the  chaste  beams  of  the  wat'ry  moon ; 

And  the  imperial  vot'ress  passed  on, 

In  maiden  meditation,  fancy-free.2 

Yet  mark'd  I  where  the  bolt  of  Cupid  fell : 

It  fell  upon  a  little  western  flower, —  , 

Before,  milk-white;  nowpurplewithlove's  wound, — 

And  maidens  call  it,  love-in-idleness.3 

If  incense  was  thrown  in  cart-loads  on  the  altar,  this  propi- 
tious deity  was  not  disgusted  by  the  smoke  of  it.     Steevens. 

1  At  a  fair  vestal,  throned  by  the  ivest ;]  A  compliment  to 
Queen  Elizabeth.     Pope. 

It  was  no  uncommon  thing  to  introduce  a  compliment  to  this 
resolute,  this  determined  virgin,  in  the  body  of  a  play.  So 
again,  in  Tancred  and  Gismund,  \5gr2: 

"  There  lives  a  virgin,  one  without  compare, 
"  Who  of  all  graces  hath  her  heavenly  share; 
"  In  whose  renowne,  and  for  whose  happie  days, 
"  Let  us  record  this  Paean  of  her  praise."     Cantant. 

Steevens. 

1  fancy-free^  i.  e.  exempt  from  the  power  of  love.  Thus, 

in  Queen  Elizabeth's  Entertainment  in  Snffblke  and  Norfolke, 
written  by  Churchyard,  Chastity  deprives  Cupid  of  his  bow,  and 
presents  it  to  her  Majesty:  " — and  bycause  that  the  Queene 
bad  chosen  the  best  life,  she  gave  the  Queene  Cupid's  bow,  to 
learne  to  shoote  at  whome  she  pleased :  since  none  could  wound 
her  highnesse  hart,  it  was  meete  (said  Chastitie)  that  she  should 
do  with  Cupid's  bowe  and  arrowes  what  she  pleased.'' 

Steevens. 

3  And  maidens  call  it,  love-in-idleness.]  This  is  as  fine  a  me- 
tamorphosis as  any  in  Ovid:  with  a  much  better  moral,  intimat- 
ing, that  irregular  love  lias  only  power  when  people  are  idle,  or 
not  well  employed.     Wahhurton. 

I  bt  lieye  the  singular  beauty  of  this  metamorphosis  to  have  been 
quite  accidental,  as  the  poet  is  of  another  opinion,  in  The  Taming 
of  a  Shrffai,  Act  I.  sc.  iv : 


374  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S        act  it. 

Fetch  me  that  flower;  the  herb  I  show'd  thee  once ; 
The  juice  of  it  on  sleeping  eye-lids  laid, 
Will  make  or  man  or  woman  madly  dote 
Upon  the  next  live  creature  that  it  sees. 
Fetch  me  this  herb  :  and  be  thou  here  again, 
Ere  the  leviathan  can  swim  a  league. 

Puck.  I'll  put  a  girdle  round  about  the  earth4 
In  forty  minutes.  [Exit  Puck. 

Obe.  Having  once  this  juice, 

I'll  watch  Titania  when  she  is  asleep, 
And  drop  the  liquor  of  it  in  her  eyes  : 
The  next  thing  then  she  waking  looks  upon, 

"  But  see,  while  idly  I  stood  looking  on, 
"  I  found  th'  effect  of  love  in  idleness  ; 
"  And  now  in  plainness  I  confess  to  thee, 
"  Tranio,  I  burn,  I  pine,  I  perish,  Tranio, 
"  If  I  achieve  not  this  young  modest  girl." 
And  Lucentio's  was  surely'a  regular  and  honest  passion.     It 
is  scarce  necessary  to  mention,  that  love-in-idleness  is  a  flower. 
Taylor,  the  water-poet,  quibbling  on  the  names  of  plants,  men- 
tions it  as  follows : 

"  When  passions  are  let  loose  without  a  bridle, 
"  Then  precious  time  is  turn'd  to  love-in-idle" 

Steevens. 

The  flower  or  violet,  commonly  called  pansies,  or  heart's  ease, 
is  named  love-in-idleness  in  Warwickshire,  and  in  Lyte's  Herbal. 
There  is  a  reason  why  Shakspeare  says  it  is  "  now  purple  with 
love's  wound,"  because  one  or  two  of  its  petals  are  of  a  purple 
colour.     Tollet. 

It  is  called  in  other  counties  the  Three  coloured  violet,  the 
Herb  of  Trinity,  Three  faces  in  a  hood,  Cuddle  me  to  you,  &c. 

Steevens. 

4  Pll  put  a  girdle  round  about  the  earth — ]  This  expression 
also  occurs  in  The  Bird  in  a  Cage,  1633  : 

"  And  when  I  have  put  a  girdle  'bout  the  world, 
"  This  purchase  will  reward  me." 
Perhaps  it  is  proverbial. 

Again,  in  Bussy  d'Ambois,  by  Chapman,  1613: 
"  To  put  a  girdle  round  about  the  "world." 
And  in  other  plays.     Steevens. 


sc.  ii.  DREAM.  375 

(Be  it  on  lion,  bear,  or  wolf,  or  bull, 
On  meddling  monkey,  or  on  busy  ape,) 
She  shall  pursue  it  with  the  soul  of  love. 
And  ere  I  take  this  charm  off  from  her  sight, 
(As  I  can  take  it,  with  another  herb,) 
I'll  make  her  render  up  her  page  to  me. 
But  who  comes  here  ?  I  am  invisible  ;5 
And  I  will  over-hear  their  conference. 

Enter  Demetrius,  Helen a  following  him. 

Dem.  I  love  thee  not,  therefore  pursue  me  not. 
Where  is  Lysander,  and  fair  Hermia  ? 
The  one  I'll  slay,  the  other  slayeth  me.c 
Thou  told'st  me,  they  were  stol'n  into  this  wood, 
And  here  am  I,  and  wood  within  this  wood,7 

s  /  am  invisible  ;]     I  thought  proper  here  to  observe, 

that,  as  Oberon,  and  Puck  his  attendant,  may  be  frequently  ob- 
served to  speak,  when  there  is  no  mention  of  their  entering,  they 
are  designed  by  the  poet  to  be  supposed  on  the  stage  during  the 
greatest  part  of  the  remainder  of  the  play ;  and  to  mix,  as  they 
please,  as  spirits,  with  the  other  actors ;  and  embroil  the  plot, 
by  their  interposition,  without  being  seen,  or  heard,  but  when 
to  their  own  purpose.     Theobald. 

See  Tempest,  page  43,  note  4.     Steevens. 

The  one  I'll  slay,  the  other  slayeth  me.]     The  old  copies 
read — 

"  The  one  I'll  stay,  the  other  stayeth  me."     Steevens. 

Dr.  Thirlby  ingeniously  saw  it  must  be,  as  I  have  corrected 
in  the  text.     Theobald. 

7  — —  and  wood  within  this  wood,']    Wood,  or  mad,  wild, 
raving.     Pope. 

In  the  third  part  of  the  Countess  of  Pembroke's  Ivy-Church, 
1591,  is  the  same  quibble  on  the  word  : 

"  Daphne  goes  to  the  woods,  and  vowes  herself  to  Diana ; 
"  Phoebufl  growsstarkuwodfor  love  andfancieto  Daphne." 
We  also  find  the  same  word  in  Chaucer,  in  the  character  of 
the  Monh-r,  Tyrwhitt's  edit.  v.  184  : 

"  What  shulde  he  studie,  and  make  himselven  wood?" 


376  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S         act  ii, 

Because  I  cannot  meet  with  Hermia. 

Hence,  get  thee  gone,  and  follow  me  no  more. 

Hel.  You  draw  me,  you  hard-hearted  adamant ; 
But  yet  you  draw,  not  iron,8  for  my  heart 
Is  true  as  steel :  Leave  you  your  power  to  draw, 
And  I  shall  have  no  power  to  follow  you. 

Dem.  Do  I  entice  you  ?  Do  I  speak  you  fair  ? 
Or,  rather,  do  I  not  in  plainest  truth 
Tell  you — I  do  not,  nor  I  cannot  love  you  ? 

Hel.  And  even  for  that  do  I  love  you  the  more. 
I  am  your  spaniel ;  and,  Demetrius, 
The  more  you  beat  me,  I  will  fawn  on  you : 
Use  me  but  as  your  spaniel,  spurn  me,  strike  me, 
Neglect  me,  lose  me  ;  only  give  me  leave, 
Unworthy  as  I  am,  to  follow  you. 
What  worser  place  can  I  beg  in  your  love, 
(And  yet  a  place  of  high  respect  with  me,) 
Than  to  be  used  as  you  use  your  dog  ? 

Dem.  Tempt  not  too  much  the  hatred  of  my 
spirit ; 
For  I  am  sick,  when  I  do  look  on  thee. 

Hel.  And  I  am  sick,  when  I  look  not  on  you. 

Spenser  also  uses  it,  JEglogue  III.  March  : 
"  The  elf  was  so  wanton,  and  so  wodeJ" 

"  The  name   Woden,"   says  Verstegan  in  his  Restitution  of 
Decayed  Intelligence,  &c.  1605  :  signifies  fierce  or  furious ;  and 
in  like  sense  we  still  retain  it,  saying  when  one  is  in  a  great  rage, 
that  he  is  wood,  or  taketh  on  as  if  he  were  wood."     Steevens. 

See  Tivo  Gentlemen  of  Verona,  Act  II.  sc.  iii.  p.  215.  Harris. 

8  You  draw  me,  you  hard-hearted  adamant; 
But  yet  you  draw  not  iron,]  I  learn  from  Edward  Fenton's 
Certaine  Secrete  Wonders  of  Nature,  bl.  1.  156p,  that — "  there 
is  now  a  dayes  a  kind  of  adamant  which  draweth  unto  it  fleshe, 
and  the  same  so  strongly,  that  it  hath  power  to  knit  and  tie  to- 
gether, two  mouthes  of  contrary  persons,  and  drawe  the  heart  of 
a  man  out  of  his  bodie  without  ofFendyng  any  parte  of  him." 

Steevens. 


sc.  n.  DREAM.  377 

Dem.  You  do  impeach  your  modesty0  too  much, 
To  leave  the  city,  and  commit  yourself 
Into  the  hands  of  one  that  loves  you  not ; 
To  trust  the  opportunity  of  night, 
And  the  ill  counsel  of  a  desert  place, 
With  the  rich  worth  of  your  virginity. 

Hel.  Your  virtue  is  my  privilege  for  that.1 
It  is  not  night,  when  I  do  see  your  face,2 
Therefore  I  think  I  am  not  in  the  night : 
Nor  doth  this  wood  lack  worlds  of  company;3 
For  you,  in  my  respect,  are  all  the  world : 
Then  how  can  it  be  said,  I  am  alone, 
When  all  the  world  is  here  to  look  on  me  ? 

Dem.  I'll  run  from  thee,  and  hide  me  in  the 
brakes, 
And  leave  thee  to  the  mercy  of  wild  beasts. 

Hel.  The  wildest  hath  not  such  a  heart  as  you.4 


9 impeach  your  modesty — ]   i.  e.  bring  it  into  question. 

So,  in  The  Merchant  of  Venice,  Act  III.  sc.  ii : 

"  And  doth  impeach  the  freedom  of  the  state, 
"  If  they  deny  him  justice."     Steevens. 

1 for  that.']  i.  e.  For  leaving  the  city,  &C.     Tyrwhitt. 

2  It  is  not  night,  tvhen  I  do  see  your  face,  &c]  This  passage 
is  paraphrased  from  two  lines  of  an  ancient  poet  [Tibullus]  : 

" Tu  nocte  vel  atra 

"  Lumen,  et  in  solis  tu  mihi  turba  locis."     Johnson. 

As  the  works  of  King  David  might  be  more  familiar  to  Shak- 
speere  than  Roman  poetry,  perhaps,  on  the  present  occasion,  the 
eleventh  verse  of  the  139th  Psalm,  was  in  his  thoughts:  "  Yea, 
the  darkness  is  no  darkness  with  thee,  but  the  night  is  as  clear 
as  the  day."     Steevens. 

Vor  doth   this  wood  lack  worlds  of  company ;]    The  same 
thought  occurs  in  King  Hc/try  VI.  P.  II: 
"  A  wilderness  is  populous  enough, 
"  So  Suffolk  had  thy  heavenly  company.''     Malone. 

*  The  Viildest  hath  not  such  a  heart  as  unn.~] 

"  Mitius  inveni  quain  te  germs  omne  ferarum."     Ovid. 


378  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S       act  n. 

Run  when  you  will,  the  story  shall  be  chang'd ; 
Apollo  flies,  and  Daphne  holds  the  chase ; 
The  dove  pursues  the  griffin  ;  the  mild  hind 
Makes  speed  to  catch  the  tiger :  Bootless  speed ! 
When  cowardice  pursues,  and  valour  flies. 

Dem.  I  will  not  stay  thy  questions;5  let  me  go : 
Or,  if  thou  follow  me,  do  not  believe 
But  I  shall  do  thee  mischief  in  the  wood. 

Hel.  Ay,  in  the  temple,  in  the  town,  the  field, 
You  do  me  mischief.     Fye,  Demetrius ! 
Your  wrongs  do  set  a  scandal  on  my  sex : 
We  cannot  fight  for  love,  as  men  may  do ; 
We  should  be  woo'd,  and  were  not  made  to  woo. 
I'll  follow  thee,  and  make  a  heaven  of  hell, 
To  die  upon  the  hand  I  love  so  well.6 

\_Exeunt  Dem.  and  Hel. 

Obe.  Fare  thee  well,  nymph :  ere  he  do  leave 
this  grove, 
Thou  shalt  fly  him,  and  he  shall  seek  thy  love. — 

Re-enter  Puck. 

Hast  thou  the  flower  there  ?  Welcome,  wanderer. 
Puck.  Ay,  there  it  is. 


See  Timon  of  Athens,  Act  IV.  sc.  i : 

" where  he  shall  find 

"  The  unkindest  beasts  more  kinder  than  mankind."  S.W. 

4  I  will  not  stay  thy  question.? ;]  Though  Helena  certainly  puts 
a  few  insignificant  questions  to  Demetrius,  I  cannot  but  think  our 
author  wrote — question,  i.  e.  discourse,  conversation.  So,  in  As 
you  like  it :  "  I  met  the  duke  yesterday,  and  had  much  question 
with  him."     Steevens. 

0  To  die  upon  the  hand,  &c]  To  die  upon,  &c.  in  our  author's 
language,  I  believe,  means — "  to  die  by  the  hand."  So,  in  The 
Two  Gentlemen  of  Verona  : 

"  I'll  die  on  him  that  says  so,  but  yourself."    Steevens. 


sc.  ii.  DREAM.  379 

Obe.  I  pray  thee,  give  it  me. 

I  know  a  bank  whereon7  the  wild  thyme  blows, 
Where  ox-lips 8  and  the  nodding  violet 9  grows  j 
Quite  over-canopied  with  lush  woodbine,1 
With  sweet  musk-roses,  and  with  eglantine: 
There  sleeps  Titania,  some  time  of  the  night, 
Lull'd  in  these  flowers  with  dances  and  delight; 
And  there  the  snake  throws  her  enamell'd  skin, 
Weed  wide  enough  to  wrap  a  fairy  in  : 
And  with  the  juice  of  this  I'll  streak  her  eyes, 
And  make  her  full  of  hateful  fantasies. 


7 whereon — ]  The  old  copy  reads — inhere.     Mr.  Malone 

supposes  where  to  be  used  as  a  dissyllable ;  but  offers  no  example 
of  such  a  pronunciation.     Steevens. 

8  Where  ox-lips  — ]  The  oxlip  is  the  greater  cowslip. 

So,  in  Drayton's  Polyolbion,  Song  XV: 

"  To  sort  these  flowers  of  showe,with  other  that  were  sweet, 
"  The  cowslip  then  they  couch,  and  th'  oxlip  for  her  meet." 

Steevens. 

9 the  nodding  violet  — ]  i.  e.  that  declines  its  head,  like  a 

drowsy  person.     Steevens. 

1  Quite  over-canopied  with  lush  woodbine,]  All  the  old  editions 
read — luscious  woodbine. 

On  the  margin  of  one  of  my  folios  an  unknown  hand  has  writ- 
ten lush  woodbine,  which,  1  think,  is  right.  This  hand  I  have 
since  discovered  to  be  Theobald's.     Johnson. 

Lush  is  clearly  preferable  in  point  of  sense,  and  absolutely  ne- 
cessary in  point  of  metre.  Oberon  is  speaking  in  rhyme  ;  but 
woodbine,  as  hitherto  accented  upon  the  first  syllable,  cannot 
possibly  correspond  with  eglantine.  The  substitution  of  lush  will 
restore  the  passage  to  its  original  harmony,  and  the  author's  idea. 

Ritson. 

I  have  inserted  lush  in  the  text,  as  it  is  a  word  already  used 
by  Shakspeare  in  The  Tempest,  Act  II : 

"  How  lush  and  lusty  the  grass  looks?  how  green  ?" 
Both  lush  and  (uscious  (says  Mr:  Henley)  are  words  of  the 


same  origin. 


Dr.  Farmer,  however,  would  omit  the  word  quite,  as  a  useless 
expletive,  and  read : 

"  O'er-canopied  with  luscious  woodbine."     Steevens. 


S8Q  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S        actii. 

Take  thou  some  of  it,  and  seek  through  this  grove : 
A  sweet  Athenian  lady  is  in  love 
With  a  disdainful  youth  :  anoint  his  eyes ; 
But  do  it,  when  the  next  thing  he  espies 
May  be  the  lady :  Thou  shalt  know  the  man 
By  the  Athenian  garments  he  hath  on.2 
Effect  it  with  some  care  ;  that  he  may  prove 
More  fond  on  her,  than  she  upon  her  love : 
And  look  thou  meet  me  ere  the  first  cock  crow. 

Puck.  Fear  not,  my  lord,  your  servant  shall  do  so. 

[Exeunt. 


SCENE  III. 

Another  part  of  the  Wood. 
Enter  Titania,  with  her  train. 
Tita.  Come,  now  a  roundel,  and  a  fairy  song  ;3 

9 the  man hath  on.]    I  desire  no  surer  evidence  to 

prove  that  the  broad  Scotch  pronunciation  once  prevailed  in  Eng- 
land, than  such  a  rhyme  as  the  first  of  these  words  affords  to  the 
second.     Steevens. 

3 a  roundel,  and  a  fairy  song;'}     Roicnds,  or  roundels, 

were  like  the  present  country  dances,  and  are  thus  described  by 
Sir  John  Davies,  in  his  Orchestra,  1 622 : 

"  Then  first  of  all  he  doth  demonstrate  plain 

"  The  motions  seven  that  are  in  nature  found, 
"  Upward  and  downward,  forth,  and  back  again, 
"  To  this  side,  and  to  that,  and  turning  round  ; 
"  Whereof  a  thousand  brawls  he  doth  compound, 
"  Which  he  doth  teach  unto  the  multitude, 
"  And  ever  with  a  turn  they  must  conclude. 
************ 
'«  Thus  when  at  first  love  had  them  marshalled, 
"  As  erst  he  did  the  shapeless  mass  of  things, 
"  He  taught  them  rounds  and  winding  hays  to  tread, 


sc.ni.  DREAM.  381 

Then,  for  the  third  part  of  a  minute,  hence  ;4 
Some,  to  kill  cankers  in  the  musk-rose  buds  ;5 
Some,  war  with  rear-mice*  for  their  leathern  wings, 

"  And  about  trees  to  cast  themselves  in  rings : 
"  As  the  two  Bears  whom  the  first  mover  flings 
"  With  a  short  turn  about  heaven's  axle-tree, 
"  In  a  round  dance  for  ever  wheeling  be."     Reed. 

A  roundell,  rondill,  or  roundelay,  is  sometimes  used  to  signify 
a  song  beginning  or  ending  with  the  same  sentence;  redit  in  orbem. 

Puttenham,  in  his  Art  of  Poetry,  158Q,  has  a  chapter  On  the 
roundel,  or  sphere,  and  produces  what  he  calls  A  general  resem- 
blance of' the  roundel  to  God,  and  the  queen.     Steevens. 

A  roundel  is,  as  I  suppose,  a  circular  dance.     Ben  Jonson 
seems  to  call  the  rings  which  such  dances  are  supposed  to  make 
in  the  grass,  rondels.     Vol.  V.  Tale  of  a  Tub,  p.  23  : 
"  I'll  have  no  rondels,  I,  in  the  queen's  paths." 

Tyrwhitt. 

So,  in  The  Boke  of  the  Governour,  by  Sir  Thomas  Elyot,  153/: 
"  In  stede  of  these  we  have  now  base  daunces,  bargenettes, 
pavyons,  turgions,  and  roundest     Steevens. 

*  Then,  for  the  third  part  of  a  minute,  hence ;]  Dr.  Warburton 
reads : 

for  the.  third  part  of  the  midnight — . 

But  the  persons  employed  are  fairies,  to  whom  the  third  part 
of  a  minute  might  not  be  a  very  short  time  to  do  such  work  in. 
The  critick  might  as  well  have  objected  to  the  epithet  tall,  which 
the  fairy  bestows  on  the  cowslip.  But  Shakspeare,  throughout 
the  play,  has  preserved  the  proportion  of  other  things  in  respect 
to  these  tiny  beings,  compared  with  whose  size,  a  cowslip  might 
be  tall,  and  to  whose  powers  of  execution,  a  minute  might  be 
equivalent  to  an  age.     Steevens. 

5 in  the  musk-rose  buds  ;]  What  is  at  present  called  the 

Musk  Rose,  was  a  flower  unknown  to  English  botanists  in  the 
time  of  Shakspeare.  About  fifty  years  ago  it  was  brought  into 
this  country  from  Spain.     Steevens. 

6 with  rear-mice — ]  A  rere-mouse  is  a  bat,  a  mouse  that 

rears  itself  from  the  ground  by  the  aid  of  wings.  So,  in  Albertus 
Wallcnstcin,  16-40: 

"  Half-spirited  souls,  who  strive  on  rere-mice  wings." 
Again,  in  Ben  Jonson's  New  Inn: 

" I  keep  no  shades 

"  Nor  shelters,  I,  for  either  owls  or  rere-mice.^ 


382  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S        act  it. 

To  make  my  small  elves  coats;  and  some, keep  back 
The  clamorous  owl,  that  nightly  hoots, and  wonders 
At  our  quaint  spirits  : 7  Sing  me  now  asleep  ; 
Then  to  your  offices,  and  let  me  rest. 

SONG. 

1  Fat   You  spotted  snakes,  with  double  tongue* 
Thorny  hedge-hogs,  be  not  seen; 
Newts,  and  blind-worms,  do  no  wrong ; 9 
Come  not  near  our  fairy  queen  : 


Again,  in  Golding's  translation   of  Ovid's  Metamorphosis, 
B.  IV.  edit.  1587,  p.  58,  b  : 

"  And  we  in  English  language  bats  or  reremice  call  the 
same." 
Gawin  Douglas,  in  his  Prologue  to  Maphaeus's  13th  Book  of 
the  JEneid,  also  applies  the  epithet  leathern  to  the  wings  of  the 
Bat: 

"  Up  gois  the  bah  with  her  pelit  leddren  flicht." 

Steevens. 

7 quaint  spirits i\  For  this  Dr.  Warburton  reads  against 

all  authority  :  "  — quaint  sports." 

But  Prospero,  in  The  Tempest,  applies  quaint  to  Ariel. 

Johnson. 

"  Our  quaint  spirits."  Dr.  Johnson  is  right  in  the  word,  and 
Dr.  Warburton  in  the  interpretation.  A  spirit  was  sometimes 
used  for  a  sport.  In  Decker's  play,  If  it  be  not  good,  the  Devil 
is  in  it,  the  king  of  Naples  says  to  the  devil  Ruffman,  disguised 
in  the  character  of  Shalcan :  "  Now  Shalcan,  some  new  spirit  ? 
Huff.  A  thousand  wenches  stark-naked  to  play  at  leap-frog. 
Omnes.  O  rare  sight!"     Farmer. 

8 ivith  double  tongue,"]  The  same  epithet  occurs  in  a 

future  scene  of  this  play : 

" with  doubter  tongue 

"  Than  thine,  thou  serpent ^  &c. 
Again,  in  The  Tempest: 

" adders,  who,  with  cloven  tongues, 

"  Do  hiss  me  into  madness." 
By  both  these  terms,  I  suppose,  our  author  means— forked ; 


SC.  TIL  DREAM.  383 

CHORUS. 

Philomel,  with  melody, 
Sing  in  our  sweet  lullaby ; 
Lu/la,  lulla,  lullaby;  Mia,  lulla,  lullaby: 
Never  harm,  nor  spell  nor  charm, 
Come  our  lovely  lady  nigh; 
So,  good  night,  with  lullaby. 

II. 

2  Fai.   Weaving  spiders,  come  not  here; 

Hence,  you  long-legg'd  sphiners,  hence: 
Beetles  black,  approach  not  near; 
Worm,  nor  snail,  do  no  offejice. 

CHORUS. 

Philomel,  with  melody,  &c. 

1  Fai.  Hence,  away  ;  now  all  is  well : 
One,  aloof,  stand  sentinel.1 

\_Exeunt  Fairies.     Titania  sleeps. 


as  the  tongues  of  snakes  are  sometimes  represented  in  ancient 
tapestry  and  paintings,  and,  it  may  be  added,  are  so  in  nature. 

Steevens. 

9  Newts,  and  blind-worms,]  The  newt  is  the  eft,  the  blind- 
iLonyi  is  the  Ccecilia  or  slow-worm.  They  are  both  ingredients 
in  the  cauldron  of  Macbeth.     See  Macbeth,  Act  IV.  sc.  i. 

Steevens. 

1  Hence,  away ;  &c]  This,  according  to  all  the  editions,  is 
made  part  of  the  song ;  but,  I  think,  without  sufficient  reason, 
as  it  appears  to  be  spoken  after  the  song  is  over.  In  the  quarto 
l6oo,  it  is  given  to  the  second  Fairy  ;  but  the  other  division  is 
better.     Steevens. 


ty 


84  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S        act  ii. 


Enter  Oberon. 

Obe.  What  thou  seest,  when  thou  dost  wake, 
[Squeezes  the flower  on  Titania's  eye-lids. 
Do  it  for  thy  true  love  take ; 
Love,  and  languish  for  his  sake  : 
Be  it  ounce,2  or  cat,  or  bear, 
Pard,  or  boar  with  bristled  hair, 
In  thy  eye  that  shall  appear 
When  thou  >vak' 
Wake,  when  some  vile  thing  is  near.  )  [Exit. 


itn  Diisueu  nan, 
shall  appear  1 

:'st,  it  is  thy  dear ;        > 
me  vile  thing  is  near.  } 


Enter  Lysander  and  Hermia. 

Lys.  Fair  love,  you  faint  with  wandering  in  the 

wood; 
And  to  speak  troth,  I  have  forgot  our  way ; 
WV11  rest  us,  Hermia,  if  you  think  it  good, 
And  tarry  for  the  comfort  of  the  day. 

Her.  Be  it  so,  Lysander  :  find  you  out  a  bed, 
For  I  upon  this  bank  will  rest  my  head. 

Lys.  One  turf  shall  serve  as  pillow  for  us  both  j 
One  heart,  one  bed,  two  bosoms,  and  one  troth. 

Her.  Nay,  good  Lysander  ;  for  my  sake,  my 
dear, 
Lie  further  off  yet,  do  not  lie  so  near. 

Lys.  O,  take  the  sense,  sweet,  of  my  innocence  ;3 
Love  takes  the  meaning,  in  love's  conference.4 


2  Be  it  ounce,']   The  ounce  is  a  small  tiger,  or  tiger-cat. 

Johnson. 

3  O,  take  the  sense,  sxoeet,  of  my  innocence  ;]  Lysander,  in  tlie 
language  of  love,  professes,  that  as  they  have  one  heart,  they 
shall  have  one  bed ;  this  Hermia  thinks  rather  too  much,  and 
intreats  him  to  lie  further  off'.     Lysander  answers : 


sc.  in.  DREAM.  385 

I  mean,  that  my  heart  unto  yours  is  knit ; 
So  that  but  one  heart  we  can  make  of  it : 
Two  bosoms  interchained5  with  an  oath  ; 
So  then,  two  bosoms,  and  a  single  troth. 
Then,  by  your  side  no  bed-room  me  deny; 
For,  lying  so,  Hermia,  I  do  not  lie. 

Her.  Lysander  riddles  very  prettily: — 
Now  much  beshrew6  my  manners  and  my  pride, 
If  Hermia  meant  to  say,  Lysander  lied. 
But,  gentle  friend,  for  love  and  courtesy 
Lie  further  off;  in  human  modesty 


"  0,  take  the  sense,  sweet,  of  my  innocence  ;'' 
Understand  the  meaning  of  my  innocence,  or  my  innocent  mean- 
ing.    Let  no  suspicion  of  ill  enter  thy  mind.     Johnson. 

4  Love  takes  the  meaning,  in  love's  conference.]  In  the  con- 
versation of  those  who  are  assured  of  each  other's  kindness,  not 
suspicion  hut  love  takes  the  meaning.  No  malevolent  interpre- 
tation is  to  be  made,  but  all  is  to  be  received  in  the  sense  which 
love  can  find,  and  which  love  can  dictate.     Johnson. 

The  latter  line  is  certainly  intelligible  as  Dr.  Johnson  has  ex- 
plained it ;  but,  I  think,  it  requires  a  slight  alteration  to  make  it 
connect  well  with  the  former.     I  would  read : 

Love  take  the  meaning  in  love's  conference. 

That  is,  Let  love  take  the  meaning.     Tyrwhitt. 

There  is  no  occasion  for  alteration.  The  idea  is  exactly  simi- 
lar to  that  of  St.  Paul:  "  Love  thinketh  no  evil."     Henley. 

4  interchained  — ]  Thus  the  quartos  ;  the  folio  inter- 
changed.    Steevens. 

6  Now  much  beshrew  <!yc.]  This  word,  of  which  the  ety- 
mology is  not  exactly  known,  implies  a  sinister  wish,  and  means 
the  same  as  if  she  had  said  "  now  ill  befall  my  manners,''  &c 
It  is  used  by  Ileyvvood  in  his  Iron  Age,  1632: 

"  Beshrew  your  amorous  rhetorick." 
Again  : 

"  Well,  Paris,  I  beshrew  you,  with  my  heart." 

Steevens. 

See  Minsheu's  etymology  of  it,  which  seems  to  be  an  impre- 
cation or  wish  of  such  evil  to  one,  as  the  venomous  biting  of 
the  shrcxu-moHsc.     ToLLET. 


VOL.  IV.  C   C 


336  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS        actii. 

Such  separation,  as,  may  well  be  said, 
Becomes  a  virtuous  bachelor  and  a  maid: 
So  far  be  distant ;  and  good  night,  sweet  friend: 
Thy  love  ne'er  alter,  till  thy  sweet  life  end ! 

Lys.  Amen,  amen,  to  that  fair  prayer,  say  I  j 
And  then  end  life,  when  I  end  loyalty! 
Here  is  my  bed  :  Sleep  give  thee  all  his  rest ! 

Her.  With  half  that  wish  the  wisher's  eyes  be 
press'd !  [  They  sleep. 


Enter  Puck. 

Puck.  Through  the  forest  have  I  gone, 
But  Athenian  found  I  none,7 
On  whose  eyes  I  might  approve 
This  flower's  force  in  stirring  love. 
Night  and  silence  !  who  is  here  ? 
Weeds  of  Athens  he  doth  wear : 
This  is  he,  my  master  said, 
Despised  the  Athenian  maid ; 
And  here  the  maiden,  sleeping  sound, 
On  the  dank  and  dirty  ground. 
Pretty  soul !  she  durst  not  lie 
Near  this  lack-love,  kill-courtesy.8 


7  But  Athenian  found  7"  none,']  Thus  the  quarto,  l600, 
printed  by  Fisher.  That  by  Roberts,  and  the  folio,  \QTl,  read: 
"  —find  I  none."     Steevens. 

8  Near  this  lack-love,  kill-courtesy. ~\  The  old  copies  read: 

"  Near  this  lack-love,  this  kill-courtesy." 
Mr.  Theobald  and  Sir  T.  Hanmer,  for  the  sake  of  the  mea- 
sure, leave  out  this  lack-love.     I  have  only  omitted — this, 

Steevens. 

Might  we  not  adhere  to  the  old  copy,  and  at  the  same  time 
preserve  the  measure,  by  printing  the  line  thus  : 
"  Near  this  lack-love,  this  kill-court'sy." 


sc.  in.  DREAM.  387 

Churl,  upon  thy  eyes  I  throw 

All  the  power  this  charm  doth  owe  :'J 

When  thou  wak'st,  let  love  forbid 

Sleep  his  seat  on  thy  eye-lid.1 

So  awake,  when  I  am  gone ; 

For  I  must  now  to  Oberon.  \JE$it 

Enter  Demetrius  and  Helena,  runn'mg. 

Hel.  Stay,  though  thou  kill  me,  sweet  Deme- 
trius. 

Dem.  I  charge  thee,  hence,  and  do  not  haunt 
me  thus. 

Hel.  O,  wilt  thou  darkling  leave  me?2  do  not/So. 

Dem.  Stay,  on  thy  peril  j  I  alone  will  go. 

\_Efflt  Demetrius. 


We  meet  with  the  same  abbreviation  in  our  author's   Venus 
and  Adonis  ; 

"  They  all  strain  court's//,  who  shall  cope  him  first." 

Malonf. 
CourVsij  can  never  be  admitted  at  the  end  of  a  verse,  the 
penult  being  always  short.     Steevens. 

9  All  the  power  this  charm  doth  owe :]  i.  e.  all  the  power  it 
possesses.     So,  in  Othello: 

"  Shall  never  medicine  thee  to  that  sweet  sleep 
"  Which  thou  otv'dst  yesterday."     Steevens. 

1  let  lore  forbid 

Sleep  his  scat  on  thy  rye-lid.~\   So,  in  Macbeth  : 
"  Sleep  shall  neither  mghl  nor  day 
"  Hang  upon  his  pent-house  lid."     Steevens. 

8  tvitt  thou  darkling  leave  met"]  i.  e.  in  the  dark.    So, 

in  The  Trvo  angri/  Women  of  Abington,  15QQ:  " — we'll  run 
away  with  the  torch,  and  leave  them  to  fight  darkling."  The 
word  is  likewise  used  by  Milton.     Steevens. 

Again,  in  King  Lear  :  "  And  so  the  candle  went  out,  and  we 
were  left  da>Uin<r."    Uitson. 

C  c  2 


388  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S       act  il 

Hel.  O,  I  am  out  of  breath  in  this  fond  chase ! 
The  more  my  prayer,  the  lesser  is  my  grace.3 
Happy  is  Hermia,  wheresoe'er  she  lies ; 
For  she  hath  blessed  and  attractive  eyes. 
How  came  her  eyes  so  bright?  Not  with  salt  tears: 
If  so,  my  eyes  are  oftener  wash'd  than  hers. 
No,  no,  I  am  as  ugly  as  a  bear ; 
For  beasts  that  meet  me,  run  away  for  fear : 
Therefore,  no  marvel,  though  Demetrius 
Do,  as  a  monster,  fly  my  presence  thus. 
What  wicked  and  dissembling  glass  of  mine 
Made  me  compare  with  Hermia' s  sphery  eyne? — 
But  who  is  here  ? — Lysander !  on  the  ground ! 
Dead  ?  or  asleep  ?  I  see  no  blood,  no  wound : — 
Lysander,  if  you  live,  good  sir,  awake. 

Lys.  And  run  through  fire  I  will,  for  thy  sweet 
sake.  [  Waking. 

Transparent  Helena !  Nature  here  shows  art,4 
That  through  thy  bosom  makes  me  see  thy  heart. 
Where  is  Demetrius  ?  O,  how  fit  a  word 
Is  that  vile  name,  to  perish  on  my  sword ! 

Hel.  Do  not  say  so,  Lysander  ;  say  not  so  : 
What  though  he  love  your  Hermia  ?  Lord,  what 
though  ? 


my  grace.']  My  acceptableness,  the  favour  that  I  can 


gain.    Johnson. 

*  Nature  [here]   sheivs  art,]    Thus  the  quartos.     The 

folio  reads — Nature  her  shews  art, — perhaps  the  error  of  the 
press  for — Nature  shews  her  art.  The  editor  of  the  second  folio 
changed  her  to  here.     Malone. 

I  admit  the  word — here,  as  a  judicious  correction  of  the  second 
folio.  Here,  means — in  the  present  instance.  On  this  occasion, 
says  Lysander,  the  work  of  nature  resembles  that  of  art,  viz. 
(as  our  author  expresses  it  in  his  Lover's  Complaint,)  an  object 
"  glaz'd  with  crystal."     Steevens. 


sc.  in.  DREAM.  389 

Yet  Hermia  still  loves  you  :  then  be  content. 

Lys.  Content  with  Hermia?  No:  I  do  repent 
The  tedious  minutes  I  with  her  have  spent. 
Not  Hermia,  but  Helena  I  love  : 
Who  will  not  change  a  raven  for  a  dove  ? 
The  will  of  man  is  by  his  reason  sway'd ; 
And  reason  says  you  are  the  worthier  maid. 
Things  growing  are  not  ripe  until  their  season : 
So  I,  being  young,  till  now  ripe  not  to  reason  ;5 
And  touching  now  the  point  of  human  skill,6 
Reason  becomes  the  marshal  to  my  will,7 

*  till  now  ripe  not  to  reason  ;]    i.  e.  do  not  ripen  to  it. 

Jiipe,  in  the  present  instance,  is  a  verb.     So,  in  As  you  like  it : 
•"  And  so,  from  hour  to  hour,  we  ripe,  and  ripe — ." 

Steevens. 

6  touching  now  the  point  of  human  skill,']  i.  e.  my  senses 

being  now  at  the  utmost  height  of  perfection.      So,  in  King 
Hear//  VIII: 

"  I  have  touch' d  the  highest  point  of  all  my  greatness." 

Steevens. 

7  Reason  becomes  the  marshal  to  my  to///,]  That  is,  My  will 
now  follows  reason.     Johnson. 

So,  in  Macbeth  : 

"  Thou  marshal' st  me  the  way  that  I  was  going." 

Steevens. 

A  modern  writer  [Letters  of  Literature,  8vo.  1785,]  contends 
that  Dr.  Johnson's  explanation  is  inaccurate.  The  meaning, 
says  he,  is,  "  my  will  now  obeys  the  command  of  my  reason, 
not  my  will  follows  my  reason.  Marshal  is  a  director  of  an 
army,  of  a  turney,  of  a  feast.  Sydney  has  used  marshal  for 
herald  or  poursuivant,  but  improperly." 

Of  such  flimzy  materials  are  many  of  the  hyper-criticisms 
composed,  to  which  the  labours  of  the  editors  and  commentators 
on  Shakspeare  have  given  rise.  Who  does  not  at  once  perceive, 
that  Dr.  .Johnson,  when  he  speaks  of  the  will  following  reason, 
uses  the  word  not  literally,  but  metaphorically  ?  "  My  will 
follows  or  obeys  the  dictates  of  reason."  Or  that,  if  this  were 
not  the  case,  he  would  yet  be  justified  by  the  context,  (And  leads 
me — )  and  by  the  passage  quoted  from  Macbeth? — The  heralds, 


390  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S         actii. 

And  leads  me  to  your  eyes ;  where  I  o'erlook 
Love's  stories,  written  in  love's  richest  book.8 

Hel.  Wherefore  was  I  to  this  keen  mockery 
born  ? 
When,  at  your  hands,  did  I  deserve  this  scorn  ? 
Is't  not  enough,  is't  not  enough,  young  man, 
That  I  did  never,  no,  nor  never  can, 
Deserve  a  sweet  look  from  Demetrius'  eye, 
But  you  must  flout  my  insufficiency  ? 
Good  troth,  you  do  me  wrong,  good  sooth,  you  do, 
In  such  disdainful  manner  me  to  woo. 
But  fare  you  well:  perforce  I  must  confess, 
I  thought  you  lord  of  more  true  gentleness.9 
O,  that  a  lady,  of  one  man  refus'd, 
Should,  of  another,  therefore  be  abus'd !       \_Exit. 

Lys.  She  sees  not  Hermia: — Hermia,  sleep  thou 
there ; 
And  never  may'st  thou  come  Lysander  near ! 
For,  as  a  surfeit  of  the  sweetest  things 
The  deepest  loathing  to  the  stomach  brings  ; 
Or,  as  the  heresies,  that  men  do  leave, 
Are  hated  most  of  those  they  did  deceive ; 
So  thou,  my  surfeit,  and  my  heresy, 
Of  all  be  hated ;  but  the  most  of  me ! 


distinguished  by  the   names  of  "  jjoursuivants  at  arms,"  were 
likewise  called  marshals.     See  Minsheu's  Dict.  l6l/,  in  v. 

Malone. 

6  leads  me  to  your  eyes  ;  ixhere  I  overlook 

Love's  stories,  written  in  love's  richest  book.]    So,  in  Romeo 
and  Juliet : 

" what  obscur'd  in  this  fair  volume  lies, 

"  Find  written  in  the  margin  of  his  eyes, 

lt  This  precious  book  of  love — ."     Steevens. 

D  true  gentleness.]  Gentleness  is  equivalent  to  what,  in 

modern  language,  we  should  call  the  spirit  of  a  gentleman. 

Percy. 


sc.iii.  DREAM.  391 

And  all  my  powers,  address  your  love  and  might, 
To  honour  Helen,  and  to  be 'her  knight!      [Exit. 

Her.  [starting.']  Help  me,  Lysander,  help  me ! 
do  thy  best, 
To  pluck  this  crawling  serpent  from  my  breast ! 
Ah  me,  for  pity  ! — what  a  dream  was  here  ? 
Lysander,  look,  how  I  do  quake  with  fear : 
Methought  a  serpent  eat  my  heart  away, 
And  you1  sat  smiling  at  his  cruel  prey : — 
Lysander !  what,  remov'd  ?  Lysander !  lord ! 
What,  out  of  hearing?  gone?  no  sound,  no  word? 
Alack,  where  are  you?  speak,  an  if  you  hear; 
Speak,  of  all  loves  ;2  I  swoon  almost  with  fear. 
No  ? — then  I  well  perceive  you  are  not  nigh : 
Either  death,  or  you,  I'll  find  immediately.3  {Exit. 


1  And  you  — ]  Instead  of  you,  the  first  folio  reads — yet.  Mr. 
Pope  first  gave  the  right  word  from  the  quarto  1 600.    Stee vens. 

2  Speak,  of  all  loves ;]  Of  all  loves  is  an  adjuration  more  than 
once  used  by  our  author.  So,  in  The  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor, 
Act  II.  sc.  viii : 

" to  send  her  your  little  page,  of  all  loves." 

Steevens. 

3  Either  death,  or  you,  1 7/  find  immediately.']  Thus  the 
ancient  copies,  and  such  was  Shakspeare's  usage.  He  frequently 
employs  either,  and  other  similar  words,  as  monosyllables.  So, 
in  King  Henry  IV.  P.  II: 

"  Either  from  the  king,  or  in  the  present  time." 
Again,  in  King  Henry  V  : 

"  Either  past,  or  not  arriv'd  to  pith  and  puissance." 
Again,  in  J  id  i  us  Cccsar: 

"  Either  led  or  driven,  as  we  point  the  way." 
Again,  in  King  Richard  III : 

"  Either  thou  wilt  die  by  God's  just  ordinance — ." 
Again,  in  Othello : 

"  Either  in  discourse  of  thought,  or  actual  deed." 
So  also,  Marlowe  in  his  Edward  II.  I.J()8: 

"  Either  banish  him  that  was  the  cause  thereof — ." 
The  modern  editors  read— Or  death  or  you,  &c.     Malone. 


392  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS        actiii. 

ACT  III.     SCENE  I.4 

The  same.     The  Queen  of  Fairies  lying  asleep. 

Enter  Quince,5  Snug,  Bottom,  Flute,  Snout, 

and  Starveling. 

Bot.  Are  we  all  met  ? 

Quiy.  Pat,  pat ;  and  here's  a  marvellous  conve- 
nient place  for  our  rehearsal :  This  green  plot  shall 
be  our  stage,  this  hawthorn  brake  our  tyring-house ; 
and  we  will  do  it  in  action,  as  we  will  do  it  before 
the  duke. 

Bot.  Peter  Quince, — 

Quin.  What  say'st  thou,  bully  Bottom  ? 

Bot.  There  are  things  in  this  comedy  of  Pyramas 
and  Thisby,  that  will  never  please.  First,  Pyramus 
must  draw  a  sword  to  kill  himself;  which  the  ladies 
cannot  abide.     How  answer  you  that  ? 

Snout.  By'rlakin,  a  parlous  fear.6 

*  In  the  time  of  Shakspeare  there  were  many  companies  of 
players,  sometimes  five  at  the  same  time,  contending  for  the 
favour  of  the  publick.  Of  these  some  were  undoubtedly  very 
unskilful  and  very  poor,  and  it  is  probable  that  the  design  of  this 
scene  was  to  ridicule  their  ignorance,  and  the  odd  expedients  to 
which  they  might  be  driven  by  the  want  of  proper  decorations. 
Bottom  was  perhaps  the  head  of  a  rival  house,  and  is  therefore 
honoured  with  an  ass's  head.     Johnson. 

4  Enter  Quince,  &c.~j  The  two  quartos  1600,  and  the  folio, 
read  only,  Enter  the  Clowns.     Steevens. 

6  By'rlakin,  a  parlous  fear.~\  By  our  ladyldn,  or  little  lady, 
as  ifakins  is  a  corruption  of  by  my  faith.  The  former  is  used  in 
JPreston's  Cambyses  : 

"  The  clock  hath  stricken  vive,  ich  think,  by  laken." 


sc.  /.  DREAM.  393 

Star.  I  believe,  we  must  leave  the  killing  out, 
when  all  is  done. 

Bot.  Not  a  whit ;  I  have  a  device  to  make  all 
well.  Write  me  a  prologue  :  and  let  the  prologue 
seem  to  say,  we  will  do  no  harm  with  our  swords ; 
and  that  Pyramus  is  not  killed  indeed :  and,  for 
the  more  better  assurance,  tell  them,  that  I  Py- 
ramus am  not  Pyramus,  but  Bottom  the  weaver  : 
This  will  put  them  out  of  fear. 

Quin.  Well,  we  will  have  such  a  prologue ;  and 
it  shall  be  written  in  eight  and  six.7 

Bot.  No,  make  it  two  more  ;  let  it  be  written 
in  eight  and  eight. 

Snout.  Will  not  the  ladies  be  afeard  of  the  lion? 

Stab.  I  fear  it,  I  promise  you. 

Bot.  Masters,  you  ought  to  consider  with  your- 
selves :  to  bring  in,  God  shield  us !  a  lion  among 
ladies,  is  a  most  dreadful  thing :  for  there  is  not  a 
more  fearful  wild-fowl  than  your  lion,  Eving ;  and 
we  ought  to  look  to  it. 

Snout.  Therefore,  another  prologue  must  tell, 
he  is  not  a  lion. 


Again,  in  Magnificence,  an  interlude,  written  by  Skelton,  and 
printed  by  Rastill : 

"  By  our  lutein,  syr,  not  by  my  will." 
Parlous  is  a  word  corrupted  from  perilous,  i.  e.  dangerous. 
So,  Pliaer  and  Twyne  translate  the  following  passage  in  the 
JEneid,  Lib.  VII.  302  : 

"  Quid  Syrtes,  aut  Scyllamihi?  quid  vasta  Charybdis 

"  Profiiit? " 

"  What    good    did    Scylla    me  ?     What    could    prevail 

Charybdis  wood  ? 
"  Or  Sirtes  parlous  sands  ?"     Steevens. 

7 in  eight  and  six.]  i.  c.  in  alternate  verses  of  eight  and 

six  syllables.     Malone. 


394  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S       act  hi. 

Bot.  Nay,  you  must  name  his  name,  and  half 
his  face  must  be  seen  through  the  lion's  neck ;  and 
he  himself  must  speak  through,  saying  thus,  or  to 
the  same  defect, — Ladies,  or  fair  ladies,  I  would 
wish  you,  or,  I  would  request  you,  or,  I  would  en- 
treat you,  not  to  fear,  not  to  tremble :  my  life  for 
yours.  If  you  think  I  come  hither  as  a  lion,  it 
were  pity  of  my  life :  No,  I  am  no  such  thing ;  I 
am  a  man  as  other  men  are  : — and  there,  indeed, 
let  him  name  his  name ;  and  tell  them  plainly,  he 
is  Snug  the  joiner.8 

Quix.  Well,  it  shall  be  so.  But  there  is  two 
hard  things ;  that  is,  to  bring  the  moon-light  into 
a  chamber :  for  you  know,  Pyramus  and  Thisby 
meet  by  moon-light. 

Snug.  Doth  the  moon  shine,  that  night  we  play 
our  play  ? 

8  No,  I  am  no  such  thing  ;  I  am  a  man  as  other  nun  are  : — 
and  there,  indeed,  let  him  name  his  name ;  and  tell  them  plainly, 
he  is  Snug  the  joiner.']  There  are  probably  many  temporary  allu- 
sions to  particular  incidents  and  characters  scattered  through  our 
author's  plays,  which  gave  a  poignancy  to  certain  passages,  while 
the  events  were  recent,  and  the  persons  pointed  at  yet  living. — 
In  the  speech  now  before  us,  I  think  it  not  improbable  that  he 
meant  to  allude  to  a  fact  which  happened  in  his  time,  at  an  en- 
tertainment exhibited  before  Queen  Elizabeth.  It  is  recorded  in 
a  manuscript  collection  of  anecdotes,  stories,  &c.  entitled,  Merry 
Passages  and  Jeasts,  MS.  Harl.  6395  : 

"  There  was  a  spectacle  presented  to  Queen  Elizabeth  upon 
the  water,  and  among  others  Harry  Goldingham  was  to  repre- 
sent Avion  upon  the  dolphin's  backe ;  but  finding  his  voice  to 
be  verye  hoarse  and  unpleasant,  when  he  came  to  perform  it,  he 
tears  off  his  disguise,  and  swears  he  tvas  none  of  Avion,  not  he, 
bid  even  honest  Havvy  Goldingham  ;  which  blunt  discoverie 
pleased  the  queene  better  than  if  it  had  gone  through  in  the 
right  way : — yet  he  could  order  his  voice  to  an  instrument  ex- 
ceeding well.'' 

The  collector  of  these  Merry  Passages  appears  to  have  been 
nephew  to  Sir  Roger  L' Estrange.     Malone. 


sc.  i.  DREAM.  39 


Bot.  A  calendar,  a  calendar !  look  in  the  alma- 
nack ;  find  out  moon-shine,  find  out  moon-shine. 

Quix.  Yes,  it  doth  shine  that  night. 

Bot.  Why,  then  you  may  leave  a  casement  of 
the  great  chamber  window,  where  we  play,  open ; 
and  the  moon  may  shine  in  at  the  casement. 

Quix.  Ay;  or  else  one  must  come  in  with  a  bush 
of  thorns  and  a  lanthorn,  and  say,  he  comes  to 
disfigure,  or  to  present,  the  person  of  moon-shine. 
Then,  there  is  another  thing :  we  must  have  a  wall 
in  the  great  chamber ;  for  Pyramus  and  Thisby, 
says  the  story,  did  talk  through  the  chink  of  a 
wall. 

Snug.  You  never  can  bring  in  a  wall. — "What 
say  you,  Bottom  ? 

Bot.  Some  man  or  other  must  present  wall:  and 
let  him  have  some  plaster,  or  some  lome,  or  some 
rough-cast  about  him,  to  signify  wall ;  or  let  him 
hold  his  fingers  thus,  and  through  that  cranny 
shall  Pyramus  and  Thisby  whisper. 

Quix.  If  that  may  be,  then  all  is  well.  Come, 
sit  down,  every  mother's  son,  and  rehearse  your 
parts.  Pyramus,  you  begin :  when  you  have  spoken 
your  speech,  enter  into  that  brake  ;9  and  so  every 
one  according  to  his  cue. 


*& 


9 that  brake ;]  Brake,  in  the  present  instance,  signifies 

a  thicket  or  furze-bush.     So,  in  the  ancient  copy  of  the  Not- 
brouue  Maijde,  1521  : 

" for,  dry  or  wete 

"  Ye  must  lodge  on  the  playne; 
"  And  us  abofe  none  other  rote 
"  But  a  brake  bush,  or  tvvayne." 
Again,  in  Milton's  Masaue  at  Ludlow  Castle: 

"  Eufl  to  your  shrouds  within  these  brakes  and  trees." 

Steevens^ 


3<J6  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S       act  in. 


Enter  Puck  behind. 

Puck.  What  hempen  home-spuns  have  we  swag- 
gering here, 
So  near  the  cradle  of  the  fairy  queen  ? 
What,  a  play  toward  ?  I'll  be  an  auditor  ; 
An  actor  too,  perhaps,  if  I  see  cause. 

Qujn.  Speak,  Pyramus  : — Thisby,  stand  forth. 

Pyr.  Thisby ',  thejlowers  of  odious  savours  sweet, — 

Quik.  Odours,  odours. 

Pyr.  odours  savours  sweet: 

So  doth  thy  breath,1  my  dearest  Thisby  dear. — 
But,  hark,  a  voice  !  stay  thou  but  here  a  while,2 
And  by  and  by  I  will  to  thee  appear.  \JLocit. 

Puck.  A  stranger  Pyramus  than  e'er  play'd  here!3 

[Aside. — Exit. 

Brake  in  the  west  of  England  is  used  to  express  a  large  extent 
of  ground  overgrown  with  furze,  and  appears  both  here  and  in 
the  next  scene  to  convey  the  same  idea.     Henley. 

1  So  doth  thy  breath,']  The  old  copies  concur  in  reading: 

"  So  hath  thy  breath," 

Mr.  Pope  made  the  alteration,  which  seems  to  be  necessary. 

Steevens. 
4 stay  thou  but  here  a  while,]  The  verses  should  be  alter- 
nately in  rhyme :  but  sweet  in  the  close  of  the  first  line,  and 
•while  in  the  third,  will  not  do  for  this  purpose.     The  author, 
doubtless,  gave  it : 

" stay  thou  but  here  a  whit,''' 

i.  e.  a  little  while  :  for  so  it  signifies,  as  also  any  thing  of  no  price 
or  consideration ;  a  trifle :  in  which  sense  it  is  very  frequent 
with  our  author.     Theobald. 

Nothing,  I  think,  is  got  by  the  change.  I  suspect  two  lines  to 
have  been  lost;  the  first  of  which  rhymed  with  "  savours  sweet," 
and  the  other  with  "  here  a  while."  The  line  before  appears  to 
me  to  refer  to  something  that  has  been  lost.    Malone. 

3  than  e'er  playd  here !]  I  suppose  he  means  in  that 

theatre  where  the  piece  was  acting.     Steevens. 


sc.  i.  DREAM.  S97 

This.  Must  I  speak  now  ? 

Quix.  Ay,  marry,  must  you  :  for  you  must  un- 
derstand, he  goes  but  to  see  a  noise  that  he  heard, 
and  is  to  come  again. 

This.  Most  radiant  Pyramus,  most  lilly -white  of 
hue, 

Of  colour  like  the  red  rose  on  triumphant  brier, 
Most  brisky  juvenal*  and  eke  most  lovely  Jew, 

As  true  as  truest  horse,  that  yet  would  never  tire, 
I'll  meet  thee,  Pyramus,  at  Ninny* s  tomb. 

Quin.  Ninus'  tomb,  man  :  Why  you  must  not 
speak  that  yet ;  that  you  answer  to  Pyramus  :  you 
speak  all  your  part  at  once,  cues  and  all.5 — Py- 
ramus enter ;  your  cue  is  past ;  it  is,  never  tire. 

Re-enter  Puck,  and  Bottom  with  an  ass's  head. 

This.  O, — As  true  as  truest  horse,  that  yet  would 
never  tire. 

Pyr.  If  I  were  fair, g  Thisby,  I  were  only  thine : — 

Quix.  O  monstrous!  O  strange  !  we  are  haunted. 
Pray,  masters  !  fly,  masters  !  help  ! 

{Exeunt  Clowns. 

4 juvenal,"]    i.  e.    young    man.     So,  Falstaff:    "  —  the 

juvenal  thy  master."     Steevens. 

5 cues  and  al!.~\    A  cue,  in  stage  cant,  is  the  last  words 

of  the  preceding  speech,  and  serves  as  a  hint  to  him  who  is  to 
speak  next.     So,  Othello: 

"  Were  it  my  cue  to  fight,  I  should  have  known  it 
M  Without  a  prompter." 
Again,  in  The  Return  from  Parnassus  : 

"  Indeed,  master  Knnpe,  you  are  very  famous:  but  that  is  as 
well  for  works  in  print,  as  your  part  in  cue."  Kempe  was  one 
of  Shakspeare's  fellow  comedians.     Steevens. 

cIfIu:ereJ'air,&c.~\  Perhaps  we  ought  to  point  thus:  If  I 
were,  [i.  e.  as  true,  &c]  fair  Thisby,  I  were  only  thine. 

Malone. 


398  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S       act  hi. 

Puck.  I'll  follow  you,  I'll  lead  you  about  a  round, 
Through  bog,  through   bush,   through   brake, 
through  brier  ;7 
Sometime  a  horse  I'll  be,  sometime  a  hound* 

A  hog,  a  headless  bear,  sometime  a  fire  ; 
And  neigh,  and  bark,  and  grunt,  and  roar, and  burn, 
Like  horse,  hound,  hog,  bear,  lire,  at  every  turn. 

\_Edit. 

Bot.  Why  do  they  run  away  r  this  is  a  knavery 
of  them,  to  make  me  afeard.8 

Re-enter  Snout. 

Snout.  O  Bottom,  thou  art  changed !  what  do 
I  see  on  thee  ?9 

Bot.  "What  do  you  see  ?  you  see  an  ass's  head 
of  your  own  ;  Do  you  ? 


7  Through   bog,  through  bush,  through  brake,  through  brier;! 
Here  are  two  syllables  wanting.     Perhaps,  it  was  written : 
"  Through  bog,  through  mire," .     Johns  ox. 

So,  in  Spenser's  Fairy  Queen,  B.  VI.  c.  viii  : 

"  Through   hills,    through   dales,    through    bushes   and 

through  briars, 
"  Long  thus  she  bled,"  &c.     VTaloxe. 

The  alliteration  evidently  requires  some  word  beginning  with 
a  b.     We  may  therefore  read  : 

11   Through  bog,  through  burn,  through  bush,  through 
brake,  through  brier."     Ritsox. 

8 to  make  me  afeard.]   A  fear  is  from  to  fear,  by  the  old 

form  of  the  language,  as  an  hungered,  from  to  hunger.    So  adry, 
for  thirsty.     Johxsox. 

9  0  Bottom,  thou  art  changed !  "vchat  do  I  see  on  thee?]  It  is 
plain  by  Bottom's  answer,  that  Snout  mentioned  an  ass's  head. 
Therefore  we  should  read  : 

Snout.  0  Bottom,  thou  art  changed !  zvhat  do  I  see  on  thee? 
An  ass's  head  ?    Johxsox. 


sc.  i.  DREAM.  399 


Re-enter  Quince. 

Quix.  Bless  thee,  Bottom  !  bless  thee !  thou  art 
translated.  [Exit. 

Bot.  I  see  their  knavery  :  this  is  to  make  an  ass 
of  me  ;  to  fright  me,  if  they  could.  But  I  will  not 
stir  from  this  place,  do  what  they  can  :  I  will  walk 
up  and  down  here,  and  I  will  sing,  that  they  shall 
hear  I  am  not  afraid.  [Sings. 

The  ousel-cock,1  so  black  of  hue, 

With  orange- taxcnei/  bill, 
The  throstle 2  with  his  note  so  true, 

The  xvren  with  little  quill; 

1  The  ousel-cock,]  The  ouzel  cock  is  generally  understood  to 
be  the  cock  blackbird.  Ben  Jonson  uses  the  word  in  The  Devi! 
is  07i  Ass: 

" stay  till  cold  weather  come, 

"  I'll  help  thee  to  an  ouzel  and  a  field-fare." 
P.  Holland,  however,  in  his  translation  of  Pliny's  Nat.  Hist. 
13.  X.  c.  xxiv.  represents  the  ouzle  and  the  blackbird  as  different 
birds. 

In  The  Arbor  of  Amorous  Devises,  4to.  bl.  1.  are  the  following- 
lines  : 

"  The  chattering  pie,  the  jay,  and  eke  the  quaile, 
"  The  thrustle-cock  that  tvas  so  black  of  helve." 
The  former  leaf  and  the  title-page  being  torn  out  of  the  copy 
I  consulted,  I  am  unable  either  to  give  the  two  preceding  lines  oi' 
the  stanza,  or  to  ascertain  the  date  of  the  book.     Steevens. 

From  the  following  passage  in  Gwazzo's  Civile  Conversation, 
1580",  p.  139,  lt  appears  that  ousels  and  blackbirds  were  the 
same  birds  :  "  She  would  needs  have  it  that  they  were  two  ousels 
or  blackbirds.''''      Kked. 

The  Ousel  differs  from  the  Black-bird  by  having  a  white  cres- 
cent upon  the  breast,  and  is  besides  rather  larger.  See  Lewin's, 
English  Birds.     Douce. 


b 


*  The  throstle — ]    So,  in  the  old  metrical  romance  of  The 
Squkr  qflmo  Degree,  bl.  1.  no  date  : 
"  The  pee  and  the  popinjaye, 
"  The  thrustclr,  si\  inge  both  nyght  and  dayc." 


400  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S       act  in. 

Tita.  What  angel  wakes  me  from  my  flowery- 
bed  ?3  [  Waking. 

Box.   The  finch ,  the  sparrow,  and  the  lark, 
The  plain-song  cuckoo  gray* 
JJliose  note  full  many  a  man  doth  mark, 
And  dares  not  answer,  nay ; — 

for,  indeed,  who  would  set  his  wit  to  so  foolish  a 
bird  ?  who  would  give  a  bird  the  lie,  though  he 
cry,  cuckoo,  never  so  ? 


Again,  in  the  first  book  of  GowerDe  Cottfessione  Amantis,  1554: 
"  The  throstel  with  the  nightingale." 
It  appears  from  the  following  passage  in  Thomas  Newton's 
Herball  to  the  Bible,  8vo.  1587,  that  the  throstle  is  a  distinct 
bird  from  the  thrush:  "  — There  is  also  another  sort  of  myrte 
or  myrtle  which  is  wild,  whose  berries  the  mavises,  throssels, 
owsells,  and  thrushes  delite  much  to  eate."     Steevens. 

3  What  angel  tvakes  me  from  my  Jlotvery  bed?]  Perhaps  a 
parody  on  a  line  in  The  Spanish  Tragedy,  often  ridiculed  by  the 
poets  of  our  author's  time : 

"  What  outcry  calls  me  from  my  naked  bed  ?" 

The  Spanish  Tragedy  was  entered  on  the  Stationers'  books  in 
1592.    Malone. 

4 plain-song  cuckoo  &c.)  That  is,  the  cuckoo,  who,  hav- 
ing no  variety  of  strains,  sings  in  plain  song,  or  in  piano  cantu; 
by  which  expression  the  uniform  modulation  or  simplicity  of  the 
chaunt  was  anciently  distinguished,  in  opposition  to  prick-song, 
or  variegated  musick  sung  by  note.  Skelton  introduces  the 
birds  singing  the  different  parts  of  the  service  of  the  funeral  of 
his  favourite  sparrow :  among  the  rest  is  the  cuckoo.  P.  227, 
edit.  Lond.  1736: 

"  But  with  a  large  and  a  long 

"  To  kepe  just playne  songe 

"  Our  chanters  shall  be  your  cuckoue,,y  &c.  T.  Warton. 

Again,  in  The  Return  from  Parnassus : 

"  Our  life  is  a.  plain  song  with  cunning  penn'd." 
Again,  in  Hans  Beer-pofs  Invisible  Comedy,  &c. 
"  The  cuckoo  sings  not  worth  a  groat, 
"  Because  she  never  changeth  note.''     Steevens. 


sc.  i.  DREAM.  401 

Tita.  I  pray  thee,  gentle  mortal,  sing  again : 
Mine  ear  is  much  enamour'd  of  thy  note, 
80  is  mine  eye  enthralled  to  thy  shape ; 
And  thy  fair  virtue's  force  perforce  doth  move  me, 
On  the  first  view,  to  say,  to  swear,  I  love  thee.5 

Bot.  Methinks,  mistress,  you  should  have  little 
reason  for  that :  And  yet,  to  say  the  truth,  reason 
and  love  keep  little  company  together  now-a-days : 
The  more  the  pity,  that  some  honest  neighbours  will 
not  make  them  friends.  Nay,  I  can  gleek6  upon 
occasion. 


*  Mine  ear  is  much  enamour 'd  of  thy  note, 
So  is  mine  eye  enthralled  to  thy  shape  ; 
And  thy  fair  virtue's  force  perforce  doth  move  me, 
On  the  Jirst  view,  to  say,  to  swear,  I  love  thee.]    These  lines 
are  in  one  quarto  of  1600,  the  first  folio  of  l(j'23,  the  second  of 
1632,  and  the  third  of  1664,  &c.  ranged  in  the  following  or- 
der: 

Mine  ear  is  much  enamour'd  of  thy  note, 
On  the  first  view  to  say,  to  swear,  I  love  thee  ; 
So  is  mine  eye  enthralled  to  thy  shape, 
And  tli  y  fair  virtue's  force  (perforce)  doth  move  me. 
This  reading  I  have  inserted,  not  that  it  can  suggest  any 
thing  hetter  than  the  order  to  which  the  lines  have  been  re- 
stored by  Mr.  Theobald  from  another  quarto,  [Fisher's,]  but  to 
show  that  some  liberty  of  conjecture  must  be  allowed  in  the 
revisal  of  works  so  inaccurately  printed,  and  so  long  neglected. 

Johnson. 

6  gleek,']  Joke  or  scoff.     Pope. 

Gleek  was  originally  a  game  at  cards.  The  word  is  often  used 
by  other  ancient  comic  writers,  in  the  same  sense  as  by  our 
author.     So,  in  Mother  Bombic,  \5g4  : 

"  There's  gleek  for  you,  let  me  have  my  gird." 
Again,  in  7*0771  Tyler  and  his  Wife: 

"  The  more  that  I  get  her,  the  more  she  doth  gleek  me." 
Again,  in  Greene's  Farewell  to  Folhe,  10*17: 

"  Meaaieur  Benedetto  galled  Peratio  with  this  glcek.,y 
Mr.  Lambe  observes  in  his  notes  on  the  ancient  metrical  his- 
tory of  The  Battle  of  Floddcu,  that,  in  the  North,  to  gleek  is  to 
VOL.  IV.  D  D 


402  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS      act  hi. 

Tita.  Thou  art  as  wise  as  thou  art  beautiful. 

Bot.  Not  so,  neither :  but  if  I  had  wit  enough 
to  get  out  of  this  wood,  I  have  enough  to  serve 
mine  own  turn. 

Tita.  Out  of  this  wood  do  not  desire  to  go ; 
Thou  shalt  remain  here,  whether  thou  wilt  or  no. 
I  am  a  spirit,  of  no  common  rate ; 
The  summer  still  doth  tend  upon  my  state, 
And  I  do  love  thee :  therefore,  go  with  me  ; 
I'll  give  thee  fairies  to  attend  on  thee ; 
And  they  shall  fetch  thee  jewels  from  the  deep,7 
And  sing,  while  thou  on  pressed  flowers  dost  sleep : 
And  I  will  purge  thy  mortal  grossness  so, 
That  thou  shalt  like  an  airy  spirit  go. — 
Peas-blossom!  Cobweb!  Moth!  and  Mustard-seed! 

Enter  four  Fairies. 

1  Fai.  Ready. 

2  Fai.  And  I. 

3  Fai.  And  I. 

4  Fai.  Where  shall  we  go  ?  * 

Tita.  Be  kind  and  courteous  to  this  gentleman; 
Hop  in  his  walks,  and  gambol  in  his  eyes ; 
Feed  him  with  apricocks,  and  dewberries,9 

deceive,  or  beguile  ;  and  that  the  reply  made  by  the  queen  of  the 
fairies,  proves  this  to  be  the  meaning  of  it.     Steevens. 

7  jewelsyrow  the  deep,]  So,  in  King  Richard  III: 

" reflecting  gems 

"  That  woo'd  the  slimy  bottom  of  the  deep."     Steevens. 

*  4  Fai.  Where  shall  we  go?]  In  the  ancient  copies,  this, 
and  the  three  preceding  speeches,  are  given  to  the  Fairies  col- 
lectively. 

By  the  advice  of  Dr.  Farmer  I  have  omitted  a  useless  repeti- 
tion of — "  and  I"  which  overloaded  the  measure.     Steevens. 


sc.  i.  DREAM.  40 

With  purple  grapes,  green  figs,  and  mulberries ; 
The  honey  bags  steal  from  the  humble-bees, 
And,  for  night  tapers,  crop  their  waxen  thighs, 
And  light  them  at  the  fiery  glow-worm's  eyes,1 
To  have  my  love  to  bed,  and  to  arise  ; 
And  pluck  the  wings  from  painted  butterflies, 
To  fan  the  moon-beams  from  his  sleeping  eyes : 
Nod  to  him,  elves,  and  do  him  courtesies. 

1  Fat.  Hail,  mortal!2 


(i 


9  clexvberries,']  Deivberries  strictly  and  properly  are  the 

fruit  of  one  of  the  species  of  wild  bramble  called  the  creeping 
or  the  lesser  bramble  :  but  as  they  stand  here  among  the  more 
delicate  fruits,  they  must  be  understood  to  mean  raspberries, 
which  are  also  of  the  bramble  kind.     T.  Hawkins. 

Dewberries  are  gooseberries,  which  are  still  so  called  in  several 
parts  of  the  kingdom.     Henley. 

the  fiery  gloiv-worm's  eyes,']    I  know  not  how  Shak- 


speare,  who  commonly  derived  his  knowledge  of  nature  from 
his  own  observation,  happened  to  place  the  glow-worm's  light 
in  his  eyes,  which  is  only  in  his  tail.     Johnson. 

The  blunder  is  not  in  Shakspeare,  but  in  those  who  have  con- 
strued too  literally  a  poetical  expression.  It  appears  from  every 
line  of  his  writings  that  he  had  studied  with  attention  the  book 
of  nature,  and  was  an  accurate  observer  of  any  object  that  fell 
within  his  notice.  He  must  have  known  that  the  light  of  the 
glow-worm  was  seated  in  the  tail ;  but  surely  a  poet  is  justified 
in  calling  the  luminous  part  of  a  glow-worm  the  eye.  It  is  a 
liberty  we  take  in  plain  prose  ;  for  the  point  of  greatest  bright- 
ness in  a  furnace  is  commonly  called  the  eye  of  it. 

Dr.  Johnson  might  have  arraigned  him  with  equal  propriety 
for  sending  his  furies  to  light  their  tapers  at  the  fire  of  the  glow- 
worm, which  in  Hamlet  he  terms  uneffectual  : 

"  The  glow-worm  shews  the  matin  to  be  near, 

"  And  'gins  to  pale  his  uneffectual  fire."     M.  Mason. 

*  Hail,  mortal!]  The  old  copies  read — hail,  mortal,  hail! 
The  second  hail  was  clearly  intended  for  another  of  the  fairies, 
so  as  that  each  of  them  should  address  Bottom.  The  regulation 
now  adopted  was  proposed  by  Mr.  Steevens.     Malone. 

d  n  2 


434  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S       act  in. 

2  Fai.  Hail ! 

3  Fai.  Hail ! 

4Fal  Hail! 

itor.  I  cry  your  worships  mercy,  heartily. — I 
beseech,  your  worship's  name. 

Cob.  Cobweb.    • 

Bot.  I  shall  desire  you  of  more  acquaintance,9 
good  master  Cobweb  :  If  I  cut  my  ringer,  I  shall 
make  bold  with  you. — Your  name,  honest  gentle- 
man ?4 


3  /  shall  desire  you  of  more  acquaintance,']  This  line  has 
been  very  unnecessarily  altered.  The  same  mode  of  expression 
occurs  in  Lusty  Juvenilis,  a  morality: 

"  I  shall  desire  you  of  'better  acquaintance." 
Such  phraseology  was  very  common  to  many  of  our  ancient 
writers. 

So,  in  An  Humorous  Day's  Mirth,  15QQ : 

"  I  do  desire  you  of  more  acquaintance." 
Again,  in   Golding's    version  of    the    14th  Book  of  Ovid's 
Metamorphosis : 

" he  praid 

"  Him  earnestly,  with  careful  voice,  of  furthrance  and 
of aid." 
Again,  in  Greene's  Groatsworth  of  Wit,  1621  : 

"  — —  craving  you  o/*more  acquaintance."     Steevens. 

The  alteration  in  the  modern  editions  was  made  on  the  au- 
thority of  the  first  folio,  which  reads  in  the  next  speech  but 
one — "  I  shall  desire  of  you  more  acquaintance."  But  the  old 
reading  is  undoubtedly  the  true  one. 

So,  in  Spenser's  Fairy  Queen,  B.  II.  c.  ix  : 

"  If  it  be  I,  of  pardon  I  you  pray."     Malone. 

4  good  master  Cobweb  :  If  I  cut  my  finger,  I  shall  make 

bold  with  you. —  Your  name,  honest  gentleman  ?]  In  The  Mayde's 
Metamorphosis,  a  comedy  by  Lyly,  there  is  a  dialogue  between 
some  foresters  and  a  troop  of  fairies,  very  similar  to  the 
present : 

"  Mopso.  I  pray,  sir,  what  might  I  call  you  ? 
"  1  Fai.  My  name  is  Penny. 


sc.  i.  DREAM.  405 

Peas.  Peas-blossom. 

Bot.  I  pray  you,  commend  me  to  mistress  Squash, 
your  mother,5  and  to  master  Peascod,  your  father. 
Good  master  Peas-blossom,  I  shall  desire  you  of  more 
acquaintance  too. — Your  name,  I  beseech  you,  sir? 

Mus.  Mustard-seed. 

Bot.  Good  master  Mustard-seed,  I  know  your 
patience6  well :  that  same  cowardly,  giant-like  ox- 
beef  hath  devoured  many  a  gentleman  of  your 
house  :  I  promise  you,  your  kindred  hath  made  my 
eyes  water  ere  now.  I  desire  you  more  acquaint- 
ance, good  master  Mustard-seed. 

"  Moj).  I  am  sorry  I  cannot  purse  you. 

"  Frisco.  I  pray  you,  sir,  what  might  I  call  you  ? 

"  2  Fai.  My  name  is  Cricket. 

"  Fris.  I  would  I  were  a  chimney  for  your  sake." 
The  Maid's  Metamorphosis  was  not  printed  till  l600,  but  was 
probably  written  some  years  before.    Mr.  Warton  says,  ( History 
of  English  Poetry,  Vol.  II.  p.  3Q'd,)  that  Lyly's  last  play  appear- 
ed in  1597.     Malone. 

mistress  Squash,  your  mother,-]  A  squash  is  an  imma- 


ture peascod.     So,  in  Tivetfth-Night,  Act  I.  sc.  v : 

" as  a  squash  is,  before  'tis  a  peascod."  Steevens. 

6 patience — ]     The    Oxford    edition    reads — /   knoiv 

your  parentage  ivell.     I  believe  the  correction  is  right. 

Johnson. 

Parentage  was  not  easily  corrupted  to  patience.  I  fancy,  the 
true  word  is,  passions,  sufferings. 

There  is  an  ancient  satirical  Poem  entitled — "  The  Poor 
Man's  Passions,  [i.  e.  sufferings,]  or  Poverty's  patience.'"  Pati- 
ence and  Passions  are  so  alike  in  sound,  that  a  careless  transcri- 
ber or  compositor  might  easily  have  substituted  the  former  word 
for  the  latter.     Farmer. 

No  change  is  necessary.  These  words  are  spoken  ironically. 
According  to  the  opinion  prevailing  in  our  author's  time,  mustard 
was  supposed  to  excite  to  choler.  See  note  on  Taming  of  the 
Shrew,  Act  IV.  sc.  iii.     Reed. 

Perhaps  we  should  read — "  I  know  you  passing  well." 

M.  Mason. 


406  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S       act  in. 

TlTA.  Come,  wait  upon  him ;  lead  him  to  my 

bower. 
The  moon,  methinks,  looks  with  a  watery  eye  ; 
And  when  she  weeps,  weeps  every  little  flower, 
Lamenting  some  enforced  chastity. 
Tie  up  my  love's  tongue,7  bring  him  silently. 

\_Exeunt. 

SCENE  II. 

Another  part  of  the  Wood. 

Enter  Oberon. 

Obe.  I  wonder,  if  Titania  be  awak'd  ; 
Then,  what  it  was  that  next  came  in  her  eye, 
Which  she  must  dote  on  in  extremity. 

Enter  Puck. 

Here  comes  my  messenger. — How  now,mad  spirit? 
What  night-rule8  now  about  this  haunted  grove  ? 

Puck.  My  mistress  with  a  monster  is  in  love. 


■  my  love's  tongue,"]  The  old  copies  read — "  my  lovers 


tongue."     Steevexs. 

Our  poet  has  again  used  lover  as  a  monosyllable  in  Twelfth' 
Night: 

"  Sad  true  lover  never  find  my  grave."     Malone. 

In  the  passage  quoted  from  Twelfth-Night,  "  true  lover"  is 
evidently  a  mistake  for — "  true-love,"  a  phrase  which  occurs  in 
the  very  scene  before  us : 

"  And  laid  the  love-juice  on  some  true  love's  sight." 

Lover,  in  both  the  foregoing  instances,  I  must  therefore  sup- 
pose to  have  been  a  printer's  blunder  for  love  ;  and  have  there- 
fore continued  Mr.  Pope's  emendation  in  the  text.  How  is  lover 
to  be  pronounced  as  a  monosyllable  ?     Steevens. 

1  what  night-rule  — ]   Night-rule  in  this  place  should 


sc.  ii.  DREAM.  407 

Near  to  her  close  and  consecrated  bower, 
While  she  was  in  her  dull  and  sleeping  hour, 
A  crew  of  patches,9  rude  mechanicals, 
That  work  for  bread  upon  Athenian  stalls, 
Were  met  together  to  rehearse  a  play, 
Intended  for  great  Theseus'  nuptial  day. 
The  shallowest  thick-skin  \  of  that  barren  sort,2 
Who  Pyramus  presented,  in  their  sport 


*eem  to  mean,  what  frolick  of  the  night,  what  revelry  is  going 
forward?     So,  in  Tom  Tyler  and  his  Wife,  \QQ\  : 

"  Marry,  here  is  good  rule  /" 
Again : 

" why  how  now  strife  !  here  is  pretty  rule  !" 

It  appears,  from  the  old  song  of  Robin  Goodfelloiv,  in  the 
third  volume  of  Dr.  Percy's  Reliques  of  Ancient  English  Poetry, 
that  it  was  the  office  of  this  waggish  spirit  "  to  viewe  [or  su- 
perintend] the  night-sports."     Steevens. 

9  'patches,']  Patch  was  in  old  language  used  as  a  term 

of  opprobry ;  perhaps  with  much  the  same  import  as  we  use 
raggamuffin,  or  tatterdemalion.     Johnson. 

Puck  calls  the  players,  "  a  crew  of  patches.""  A  common 
opprobrious  term,  which  probably  took  its  rise  from  Patch,  Car- 
dinal Wolsey's  fool.  In  the  western  counties,  cross-patch  is  still 
used  for  perverse,  ill-natur\lfool.     T.  Warton. 

The  name  was  rather  taken  from  the  patch'd  or  pied  coat* 
worn  by  the  fools  or  jesters  of  those  times. 
So,  in  The  Tempest : 

" what  a  pied  ninny's  this  ?" 

Again,  in  Preston's  Cambyses  : 

"  Hob  and  Lob,  ah  ye  country  patches  /" 
Again,  in  The  Three  Ladies  of  London,  1584: 

"  It  is  simplicitie,  that  patch."     Steevens. 

I   should  suppose  patch  to  be  merely  a  corruption  of  the 
Italian  pazzo,  which  signifies  properly  a  fool.     So,  in  The  Mer- 
chant of  I'cnice,  Act  II.  sc.  v.  Shylock  says  of  Launcelot:   The 
patch  is  kind  enough  ; — after  having  just  called  him,  that  fool  cf 
Hagar's  off-spring.     Tyrwhitt. 

■thick-skin — ]   See  Merry  Wives  of  Windsor,  Act  IV. 


sc.  v.     Steeven.s. 


408  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S        act  hi. 

Forsook  his  scene,  and  enter'd  in  a  brake  : 

When  I  did  him  at  this  advantage  take, 

An  ass's  nowl  I  fixed  on  his  head ; 3 

Anon,  his  Thisbe  must  be  answered, 

And  forth  my  mimick 4  comes  :  When  they  him  spy, 

As  wild  geese  that  the  creeping  fowler  eye, 


*  barren  sort,]      Barren   is   dull,   unpregnant.     So,  in 

Hamlet : 

" some  quantity  of  barren  spectators,"  &c. 

Sort  is  company.     Steevens. 

3  An  ass's  nowl  IJixed  on  his  head  ;]   A  head.     Saxon. 

Johnson. 


So,  Chaucer,  in  The  History  ofBeryn,  1524  : 

"  No  sothly,  quoth  the  steward,  it  lieth  all  in  thy  noil, 
"  Both  wit  and  wysdom,"  &c. 

Again,  in  The  Three  Ladies  of  London,  1584- : 
"  One  thumps  me  on  the  neck,  and  another  strikes  me  on  the 
yiole."     Steevens. 

The  following  receipt  for  the  process  tried  on  Bottom,  occurs 
in  Albertus  Magnus  de  Secretis :  "  Si  vis  quod  caput  hominis 
assimiletur  capiti  asini,  sume  de  segimine  aselli,  &  unge  homi- 
nem  in  capite,  &  sic  apparebit."  There  was  a  translation  of 
this  book  in  Shakspeare's  time.     Douce. 

The  metamorphosis  of  Bottom's  head,  might  have  been  sug- 
gested by  a  similar  trick  played  by  Dr.  Faustus.  See  his  History, 
chap,  xliii.     Steevens. 

*  mimick — ]  Minnock  is  the  reading  of  the  old  quarto, 

and  I  believe  right.     Minnekin,  now  minx,  is  a  nice  trifling  girl. 
Minnock  is  apparently  a  word  of  contempt.     Johnson. 

The  folio  reads — mhnmick  :  perhaps  for  mimick,  a  word  more 
familiar  than  that  exhibited  by  one  of  the  quartos,  for  the  other 
reads — minnick.     Steevens. 

Mimmick  is  the  reading  of  the  folio.  The  quarto  printed  by 
Fisher  has — minnick  ;  that  by  Roberts,  minnock  :  both  evidently 
corruptions.  The  line  has  been  explained  as  if  it  related  to 
Thisbe  ;  but  it  does  not  relate  to  her,  but  to  Pyramus.  Bottom 
had  just  been  playing  that  part,  and  had  retired  into  a  brake  ; 
(according  to  Quince's  direction  :  "  When  you  have  spoken 
your  speech,  enter  into  that  brake.")  "  Anon  his  Thisbe  must 
be  answered,  And  forth  my  mimick  (i.  e.  my  actor)  comes.'"  In 
this  there  seems  no  difficulty. 


9C.  n.  DREAM.  409 

Or  russet-pated  choughs,5  many  in  sort,6 

Rising  and  cawing  at  the  gun's  report 

Sever  themselves,  and  madly  sweep  the  sky ; 

So,  at  his  sight,  away  his  fellows  fly : 

And,  at  our  stamp,7  here  o'er  and  o'er  one  falls; 

He  murder  cries,  and  help  from  Athens  calls. 

Mimich  is  used  as  synonymous  to  actor,  by  Decker,  in  his 
Guls  Hornebooke,  lQog:  "  Draw  what  troop  you  can  from  the 
stage  after  you ;  the  mimicks  are  beholden  to  you  for  allowing 
them  elbow  room."  Again,  in  his  Satiromastix,  1602:  "  Thou 
[B.  Jonson]  hast  forgot  how  thou  ambled'st  in  a  leather  pilch  by 
a  play-waggon  in  the  highway,  and  took'st  mad  Jcronymd's  part, 
to  get  service  amongst  the  mimicks."     Malone. 

choughs,]  The  chough  is  a  bird  of  the  daw  kind.     It 


is  mentioned  also  in  Macbeth  : 

"  By  magot-pies,  and  choughs,  and  rooks,"  &c. 

Steevexs.. 

6  sort,]  Company.     So  above : 

" that  barren  sort ;" 

and  in  Waller : 

"  A  sort  of  lusty  shepherds  strive.'1''     Johnson. 

So,  in  Chapman's  May-day  l6ll  : 

" though  we  neuer  lead  any  other  company  than  a  sort 

of  quart-pots."     Steevexs. 

7  And,  at  our  stamp,]  This  seems  to  be  a  vicious  reading. 
Fairies  are  never  represented  stamping,  or  of  a  size  that  should 
give  force  to  a  stamp,  nor  could  they  have  distinguished  the  stamps 
of  Puck  from  those  of  their  own  companions.     I  read  : 

And  at  a  stump  here  o'er  and  o'er  onejtdh. 
So  Drayton  : 

"  A  pain  he  in  his  head-piece  feels, 

"  Against  a  stubbed-tree  he  reels, 

"  And  up  went  poor  Hobgoblin's  heels; 

"  Alas,  his  brain  was  dizzy. 

"  At  length  upon  his  feet  he  gets, 
"  Hobgoblin  tunics,  Hobgoblin  frets, 
"  And  as  again  he  forward  sets, 

"  And  through  the  bushes  scrambles, 
"   \  stump  doiii  trip  him  in  his  pace, 
M  Down  fell  poor  Hob  upon  his  face, 
"  And  lamentably  tore  his  case, 

"  Among  the  briers  and  brambles."     Johnson. 


410  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S       alt  m. 

Their  sense,  thus  weak,  lost  with  their  fears,  thus 

strong, 
Made  senseless  things  begin  to  do  them  wrong : 
For  briers  and  thorns  at  their  apparel  snatch  ; 
Some,  sleeves;  some,  hats: 8  from  yielders  all  things 

catch. 
I  led  them  on  in  this  distracted  fear, 
And  left  sweet  Pyramus  translated  there  : 
When  in  that  moment  (so  it  came  to  pass,) 
Titania  wak'd,  and  straightway  lov'd  an  ass. 


I  adhere  to  the  old  reading.  The  stamp  of  a  fairy  might  be 
efficacious  though  not  loud ;  neither  is  it  necessary  to  suppose, 
when  supernatural  beings  are  spoken  of,  that  the  size  of  the  agent 
determines  the  force  of  the  action.  That  fairies  did  stamp  to 
some  purpose,  may  be  known  from  the  following  passage  in 
Olaus  Magnus  de  Gentibus  Septentrionalibus  ; — "  Vero  saltum 
adeo  profundi  in  terram  impresserant,  ut  locus  insigni  adore 
orbiculariter  peresus,  non  parit  arenti  redivivum  cespite  gramen." 
Shakspeare's  own  authority,  however,  is  most  decisive.  See  the 
conclusion  of  the  first  scene  of  the  fourth  Act : 
"  Come,  my  queen,  take  hand  with  me, 
"  And  rock  the  ground  whereon  these  sleepers  be." 

Steevens. 

Honest  Reginald  Scott  says :  "  Our  grandams  maides  were 
wont  to  set  a  boll  of  milke  before  Incubus,  and  his  cousin  Robin 
Good-fellow,  for  grinding  of  malt  or  mustard,  and  sweeping  the 
house  at  midnight:  and — that  he  would  chafe  exceedingly,  if  the 
maid  or  good  wife  of  the  house,  having  compassion  of  his  naked- 
nes,  laid  anie  clothes  for  him  beesides  his  messe  of  white  bread 
and  milke,  which  was  his  standing  fee.  For  in  that  case  he  saith, 
What  have  we  here  ?  Hemton,  hamten,  here  will  I  never  more 
tread  nor  stampen"     Discoverie  of  Witchcraft,  1584,  p.  85. 

RlTSON. 

8  Some,  sleeves ;  some,  hats  :~\     There  is  the  like  image  in 
Drayton,  of  queen  Mab  and  her  fairies  flying  from  Hobgoblin: 
"  Some  tore  a  ruff,  and  some  a  gown, 

"  'Gainst  one  another  justling ; 
"  They  flew  about  like  chaff  i'  th'  wind, 
"  For  haste  some  left  their  masks  behind, 
"  Some  could  not  stay  their  gloves  to  find, 
"  There  never  was  such  bustling."    Johnson. 


sc.  ii.  DREAM.  411 

Obe.  This  falls  out  better  than  I  could  devise. 
But  hast  thou  yet  latch'd9  the  Athenian's  eyes 
With  the  love-juice,  as  I  did  bid  thee  do  ? 

Puck.  I  took  him  sleeping, — that  is  finish'dtoo, — 
And  the  Athenian  woman  by  his  side ; 
That,  when  he  wak'd,  of  force  she  must  be  ey'd. 

Enter  Demetrius  and  Hermia. 

Obe.  Stand  close  ;  this  is  the  same  Athenian. 

Puck.  This  is  the  woman,  but  not  this  the  man. 

Dem.  O,  why  rebuke  you  him  that  loves  you  so  ? 
Lay  breath  so  bitter  on  your  bitter  foe. 

Her.  Now  I  but  chide,  but  I  should  use  thee 
worse ; 
For  thou,  I  fear,  hast  given  me  cause  to  curse. 
If  thou  hast  slain  Lysander  in  his  sleep, 
Being  o'er  shoes  in  blood,1  plunge  in  the  deep, 
And  kill  me  too. 

The  sun  was  not  so  true  unto  the  day, 
As  he  to  me  :  Would  he  have  stol'n  away 
From  sleeping  Hermia  ?  I'll  believe  as  soon, 
This  whole  earth  may  be  bor'd;  and  that  the  moon 
May  through  the  center  creep,  and  so  displease 
Her  brother's  noon-tide  with  the  Antipodes.2 

■  latch'd—']    Or  letch'd,  lick'd  over,  lecher,  to  lick,  Fr. 

Hammer. 
In  the  North,  it  signifies  to  inject.     Steevens. 

1  Bring  o'er  shoes  in   blood,']    An  allusion   to  the  proverb, 
Over  shoes,  over  boots.     Johnson. 

So,  in  Macbeth  : 

" I  ain  in  blood, 

"  Stept  in  .so  far,"  &c.     Steevens. 

*  noon-tick'  u/th  the  Antipodes.]    Dr.  Warburton  would. 

read — p  Ih'  antipodes,   which    Mr.  Edwards   ridicules  without 


412  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S       act  in. 

It  cannot  be,  but  thou  hast  murder'd  him ; 
So  should  a  murderer  look ;  so  dead,3  so  grim. 

Dem.  So  should  the  murder'd  look;    and  so 
should  I, 
Pierc'd  through  the  heart  with  your  stern  cruelty : 
Yet  you,  the  murderer,  look  as  bright,  as  clear, 
As  yonder  Venus  in  her  glimmering  sphere. 

Heb.  What's  this  to  my  Lysander?  where  is  he  ? 
Ah,  good  Demetrius,  wilt  thou  give  him  me  ? 

Dem.  I  had  rather  give  his  carcase  to  my  hounds. 

Her.  Out,  dog!  out,  cur!  thou  driv'st  me  past 
the  bounds 
Of  maiden's  patience.    Hast  thou  slain  him  then? 
Henceforth  be  never  number'd  among  men ! 
O !  once  tell  true,  tell  true,  even  for  my  sake ; 
Durst  thou  have  look'd  upon  him,  being  awake, 


mercy.  The  alteration  is  certainly  not  necessary  ;  but  it  is  not 
so  unlucky  as  he  imagined.  Shirley  has  the  same  expression  in 
his  Andromana  : 

"  To  be  a  whore,  is  more  unknown  to  her, 

"  Then  what  is  done  in  the  antipodes.'* 
In  for  among  is  frequent  in  old  language.     Farmer. 

The  familiarity  of  the  general  idea,  is  shown  by  the  following 
passage  in  The  Death  of  Robert  Earl  of  Huntingdon,  1601 : 

"  And  dwell  one  month  tvith  the  Antipodes." 
Again,  in  King  Richard  II: 

"  While  we  were  wandring  xvith  the  Antipodes." 

Steevens. 

s  50  dead,]  All  the  old  copies  read — so  dead  ;  in  my  copy 

of  it,  some  reader  has  altered  dead  to  dread.     Johnson. 

Dead  seems  to  be  the  right  word,  and  our  author  again  uses 
it  in  King  Henry  IV.  P.  II.  Act  I.  sc.  iii : 

"  Even  such  a  man,  so  faint,  so  spiritless, 

"  So  dull,  so  dead  in  look,  so  woe-begone."     Steevens. 

So  also,  in  Greene's  Dorastus  and  Favonia  :  "  —  if  thou  marry 
in  age,  thy  wife's  fresh  colours  will  breed  in  thee  dead  thoughts 
and  suspicion."     Malone. 


SC.IL  DREAM.  413 

And  hast  thou  kill'd  him  sleeping? 4  O  brave  touch!5 
Could  not  a  worm,  an  adder,  do  so  much  ? 
An  adder  did  it ;  for  with  doubler  tongue 
Than  thine,  thou  serpent,  never  adder  stung. 

Dem.  You  spend  your  passion  on  a  mispris'd 
mood : 6 
I  am  not  guilty  of  Lysander's  blood  ; 
Nor  is  he  dead,  for  aught  that  I  can  tell. 

Her.  I  pray  thee,  tell  me  then  that  he  is  well. 

Dem.  An  if  I  could,7  what  should  I  get  there- 
fore ? 

Her.  A  privilege,  never  to  see  me  more. — 

4  Durst  thou  have  looked  upon  him,  being  awake, 
And  hast  thou  kill'd  him  sleeping?"]   She  means,  Hast  thou 
kill'd  him  sleeping,  whom,  when  awake,  thou  didst  not  dare  to 
look  upon?     Malone. 

s  0  brave  touch !]   Touch  in  Shakspeare's  time  was  the 

same  with  our  exploit,  or  rather  stroke.  A  brave  touch,  a  noble 
stroke,  un  grand  coup.  "  Mason  was  very  merry,  pleasantly 
playing  both  with  the  shrewd  touches  of  many  curst  boys,  and 
the  small  discretion  of  many  lewd  schoolmasters."     Ascham. 

Johnson. 

A  touch  anciently  signified  a  trick.  In  the  old  black  letter 
story  of  Hoxvleglas,  it  is  always  used  in  that  sense  :  "  —  for  at 
all  times  he  did  some  mad  touch.'1''     Steevens. 

6  misprised  mood :]   Mistaken ;    so  below  misprision  is 

mistake.     Johnson. 

Mood  is  anger,  or  perhaps  rather  in  this  place,  capricious 
fancy.     Malone. 

I  rather  conceive  that — "  on  a  mispris'd  mood'''  is  put  for — 
"in  a  mispris'd  mood;"  i.e.11  in  a  mistaken  manner.'"  The 
preposition — on,  is  licentiously  used  by  ancient  authors.  When 
Mark  Antony  says  that  Augustus  Caesar  "  dealt  on  lieutenantry," 
he  does  not  mean  that  he  "  dealt  his  blows  on  lieutenants,"  but 
that  he  dealt  in  them  ;  i.  e.  achieved  his  victories  by  their  con- 
duct.    Steevens. 

7  An  if  /  could,  fire]  This  phraseology  was  common  in 
Shakspeare's  time.     Thus,  in  Romeo  and  Juliet,  Act  V.  sc.  i : 

"  An  if  a.  man  did  need  a  poison  now." 


414  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S        act  m. 

And  from  thy  hated  presence  part  I  so : 8 

See  me  no  more,  whether  he  be  dead  or  no.    \_~Exit. 

Dem.  There  is  no  following  her  in  this  fierce 
vein : 
Here,  therefore,  for  a  while  I  will  remain. 
So  sorrow's  heaviness  doth  heavier  grow 
For  debt  that  bankrupt  sleep  doth  sorrow  owe  ; 
Which  now,  in  some  slight  measure  it  will  pay, 
If  for  his  tender  here  I  make  some  stay. 

[Lies  down. 

Obe.  What  hast  thou  done  ?  thou  hast  mistaken 
quite, 
And  laid  the  love-juice  on  some  true-love's  sight : 
Of  thy  misprision  must  perforce  ensue 
Some  true-love  turn'd,  and  not  a  false  turn'd  true. 

Puck.  Then  fate  o'er-rules  ;  that,  one  man  hold- 
ing troth, 
A  million  fail,  confounding  oath  on  oath. 

Obe.  About  the  wood  go  swifter  than  the  wind, 
And  Helena  of  Athens  look  thou  find : 
All  fancy-sick  she  is,  and  pale  of  cheer9 
With  sighs  of  love,  that  cost  the  fresh  blood  dear :  J 

Again,  in  Lodge's  Illustrations,  Vol.  I.  p.  85  :  "  — meanys  was 
made  unto  me  to  see  an  yff^-  wold  appoynt,"  &c.     Reed. 

8  part  I  so  :]     So,  which  is  not  in  the  old  copy,  was  in- 
serted, for  the  sake  of  both  metre  and  rhyme,  by  Mr.  Pope. 

Malone. 

■pale  of  cheer — ]  Cheer,  from  the  Italian  car  a,  is  fre- 


quently used  by  the  old  English  writers  for  countenance.  Even 
Dryden  says — 

"  Pale  at  the  sudden  sight,  she  chang'd  her  cheer." 

Edinburgh  Magazine,  Nov.  1786.     Steevens. 

1  sighs  of  love,  that  cost  the  fresh  blood  dear :]     So,  in 

King  Henry  VI.  we  have  "  blood-consuming," — "  blood-drink- 
ing," and  "  blood-sucking  sighs."  All  alluding  to  the  ancient 
supposition  that  every  sigh  was  indulged  at  the  expence  of  a 
drop  of  blood.     Steevens. 


sc.  n.  DREAM.  41 


>; 


By  some  illusion  see  thou  bring  her  here ; 
I'll  charm  his  eyes,  against  she  do  appear. 

Puck.  I  go,  I  go ;  look,  how  I  go ; 
Swifter  than  arrow  from  the  Tartar's  bow.2    [Exit. 

Obe.  Flower  of  this  purple  die, 
Hit  with  Cupid's  archery,3 
Sink  in  apple  of  his  eye ! 
When  his  love  he  doth  espy, 
Let  her  shine  as  gloriously 
As  the  Venus  of  the  sky. — 
When  thou  wak'st,  if  she  be  by, 
Beg  of  her  for  remedy. 

Re-enter  Puck. 

Puck.  Captain  of  our  fairy  band, 
Helena  is  here  at  hand ; 
And  the  youth,  mistook  by  me, 
Pleading  for  a  lover's  fee  ; 
Shall  we  their  fond  pageant  see  ? 
Lord,  what  fools  these  mortals  be ! 

Obe.  Stand  aside  :  the  noise  they  make, 
Will  cause  Demetrius  to  awake. 


*  Swifter  than  arrow  from  the  Tartar's  bow.]   So,  in  the  10th 
Book  of  Ovid's  Metamorphosis  :  translated  by  Golding,  150/  : 

" and  though  that  she 

"  Did  fly  as  swift  as  arrow  from  a  Turkye  bowe." 

Douce. 

11  A  Tartar's  painted  bow  of  lath"  is  mentioned  in  Romeo  and 
Juliet.     Steevens. 

3  Hit  with  Cupid's  archery,~)     This  alludes  to  what  was  said 
before : 

" the  bolt  of  Cupid  fell : 

"  It  fell  upon  a  little  western  flower, 

"  Before  milk-white,  now  purple  with  love's  wound." 

Steevens. 


416  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S       act  m. 

Fuck.  Then  will  two  at  once,  woo  one  ; 
That  must  needs  be  sport  alone ; 
And  those  things  do  best  please  me, 
That  befal  preposterously. 

Enter  Lysander  and  Helena. 

Lys.  Why  should  you  think,  that  I  should  woo 
in  scorn  ? 

Scorn  and  derision  never  come  in  tears : 
Look,  when  I  vow,  I  weep  ;  and  vows  so  born, 

In  their  nativity  all  truth  appears. 
How  can  these  things  in  me  seem  scorn  to  you, 
Bearing  the  badge  of  faith,  to  prove  them  true  ? 4 

Hel.  You  do  advance  your  cunning  more  and 
«  more. 

When  truth  kills  truth,  O  devilish-holy  fray ! 
These  vows  are  Hermia's  ;  Will  you  give  her  o'er  ? 
Weigh  oath  with  oath,  and  you  will  nothing 
weigh : 
Your  vows,  to  her  and  me,  put  in  two  scales, 
Will  even  weigh ;  and  both  as  light  as  tales. 

Lys.  I  had  no  judgment,  when  to  her  I  swore. 

Hel.  Nor  none,  in  my  mind,  now  you  give  her 
o'er. 

Lys.  Demetrius  loves  her,  and  he  loves  not  you. 

Dem.  [awaking.-]  O  Helen,  goddess,  nymph, 
perfect,  divine ! 
To  what,  my  love,  shall  I  compare  thine  eyne  ? 


4  Bearing  the  badge  ofjaith,  to  prove  them  true  ?]     This  is 
said  in  allusion  to  the  badges  (i.  e.  family  crests)  anciently  worn 
on  the  sleeves  of  servants  and  retainers.     So,  in  The  Tempest  ; 
"  Mark  the  badges  of  these  men,  and  then  say  if  they  be 
true."     Steevens. 


sc.  u.  DREAM.  417 

Crystal  is  muddy.     O,  how  ripe  in  show 
Thy  lips,  those  kissing  cherries,  tempting  grow  ! 
That  pure  congealed  white,  high  Taurus'  snow,0 
Fann'd  with  the  eastern  wind,  turns  to  a  crow, 
When  thou  hold'st  up  thy  hand :  O  let  me  kiss 
This  princess  of  pure  white,6  this  seal  of  bliss !  ? 

Hel.  O  spite  !  O  hell !  I  see  you  all  are  bent 
To  set  against  me,  for  your  merriment. 
If  you  were  civil,  and  knew  courtesy, 
You  would  not  do  me  thus  much  injury. 
Can  you  not  hate  me,  as  I  know  you  do, 
But  you  must  join,  in  souls,8  to  mock  me  too  ? 


*  Taurus'  snoxv,~\     Taurus  is  the  name  of  a  range  of 

mountains  in  Asia.     Johnson. 

6  This  princess  of  pare  white,']     Thus  all  the  editions  as  low 
as  Sir  Thomas  Hanmer's.     He  reads : 

This  purencss  of  pure  white; 
and  Dr.  Warburton  follows  him.    The  old  reading  may  be  justi- 
fied from  a  passage  in  Sir  Walter  Raleigh's  Discovery  qf  Guiana, 
where  the  pine-apple  is  called  The  princess  of  fruits.    Again,  in 
JVt/at's  Poems  :  "  Of  beauty  princesse  chief."     Steevens. 

In  The  Winter's  Tale  we  meet  with  a  similar  expression  : 
good  sooth,  she  is 


The  queen  of  curds  and  cream"     Malone. 
7  seal  of  bliss  !~\     He  has  in  Measure  for  Measure,  the 


same  image : 


But  my  kisses  bring  again, 
"  Seals  ofloxe,  but  sealed  in  vain."     Johnson. 

More  appositely,  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra  : 

"  My  play-fellow,  your  hand  ;   this  kingly  seal, 
"  And  plighter  of  high  hearts."    Steevens. 

8  join,  in  souls,]   i.  e.  join  heartily,  unite  in  the  same 

mind.     Shakspeare,  in  K.  Henry  V.  uses  an  expression  not  un- 
like this : 

"   For  we  will  hear,  note,  and  believe  in  heart ;" 
i.e.  heartily  believe:  and  in  Measure  for  Measure,  he  talks  of 
electing  with  special  soui.    In  Troilus  and  Cressida,  Ulysses,  re- 
lating the  character  of  Hector  as  given  him  by  iEneas,  says : 

VOL.  IV.  E  E 


418  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S       act  in. 

If  you  were  men,  as  men  you  are  in  show, 

You  would  not  use  a  gentle  lady  so  ; 

To  vow,  and  swear,  and  superpraise  my  parts, 

When,  I  am  sure,  you  hate  me  with  your  hearts. 

You  both  are  rivals,  and  love  Hermia ; 

And  now  both  rivals,  to  mock  Helena  : 


«  with  private  soul 

"  Did  in  great  Ilion  thus  translate  him  to  me." 
And,  in  All  Fools,  by  Chapman,   1005,  is  the  same  expression 
as  that  for  which  I  contend : 

"  Happy,  in  soul,  only  by  winning  her." 
Again,  in  a  masque  called  Luminalia,  or  The  Festival  of  Light, 
163J : 

"  You  that  are  chiefs  souls,  as  in  your  blood." 
Again,  in  Pierce  Penniless  his  Supplication  to  the  Devil,  15Q5  '• 

"  whose  subversion  in  soul  they  have  vow'd." 

Again,  in  Warner's  Albion's  England,  1602,  B.  XII.  ch.  lxxv: 

"  Could  all,  in  soul,  of  very  God  say  as  an  Ethnick  said 

"  To  one  that  preached  Hercules?" 

Again,  in  our  author's  Twelfth-Night  : 

"  And  all  those  swearings  keep  as  true  in  soid." 
Sir  T.  Hanmer  would  read — injlouts ;  Dr.  Warburton,  in- 
solents.     Steevens. 


I  rather  believe  the  line  should  be  read  thus : 

"  But  you  must  join,  ill  souls,  to  mock  me  too  ?" 
Ill  is  often  used  for  bad,  wicked.     So,  in   The  Sea  Voyage  of 
Beaumont  and  Fletcher,  Act  IV.  sc.  i : 

"  They  did  begin  to  quarrel  like  ill  men  ;" 
which  I  cite  the  rather,  because  ill  had  there  also  been  changed 
into  in,  by  an  error  of  the  press,  which  Mr.  Sympson  has  cor- 
rected from  the  edition  1647.     Tyrwhitt. 

This  is  a  very  reasonable  conjecture,  though  I  think  it  hardly 
right.     Johnson. 

We  meet  with  this  phrase  in  an  old  poem  by  Robert  Dabourne  : 

"  Men  shift  their  fashions — 

"  They  are  in  souls  the  same."     Farmer. 

A  similar  phraseology  is  found  in  Measure  for  Measure  : 
"  Is't  not  enough  thou  hast  suborn'd  these  women 
"  To  accuse  this  worthy  man,  but  in  foul  mouth 
"  To  call  him  villain !"     Malone. 


tic.  it.  DREAM.  419 

A  trim  exploit,  a  manly  enterprize,9 

To  conjure  tears  up  in  a  poor  maid's  eyes, 

With  your  derision  !  none,  of  noble  sort,1 

Would  so  offend  a  virgin ;  and  extort 

A  poor  soul's  patience,2  all  to  make  you  sport. 

Lys.  You  are  unkind,  Demetrius  ;  be  not  so  ; 
For  you  love  Hermia  ;  this,  you  know,  I  know : 
And  here,  with  all  good  will,  with  all  my  heart, 
In  Hermia's  love  I  yield  you  up  my  part ; 
And  yours  of  Helena  to  me  bequeath, 
Whom  I  do  love,  and  will  do  to  my  death. 

Hel.  Never  did  mockers  waste  more  idle  breath. 

Dem.  Lysander,  keep  thy  Hermia ;  I  will  none : 
If  e'er  I  lov'd  her,  all  that  love  is  gone. 
My  heart  with  her  but,  as  guest-wise,  sojourn'd  ; 
And  now  to  Helen  is  it  home  return'd,3 

9  A  trim  exploit,  a  manly  enterprize,  &c]  This  is  written 
much  in  the  manner  and  spirit  of  Juno's  reproach  to  Venus  in 
the  fourth  Book  of  the  JEneid : 

"  Egregiam  vero  laudem  et  spolia  ampla  refertis, 

"  Tuque  puerque  tuus ;  magnum  et  memorabile  nomen, 

"  Una  doio  divum  si  fcemina  victa  duorum  est." 

Steevens. 

1  none,  of  noble  sort,]  Sort  is  here  used  for  degree  or 

quality.     So,  in  the  old  ballad  of  Jane  Shore  : 
"  Long  time  I  lived  in  the  court, 
"  With  lords  and  ladies  of  great  sort."     Malone. 

*  extort 

A  poor  souVs  patience ,]  Harass,  torment.     Johnson. 

3  My  heart  with  her  but,  as  gucst-ivise,  sojouni'd ; 
And  now  to  Helen  it  is  home  return'd,]  The  ancient  copies 
read — "  to  her."     Dr.  Johnson  made  the  correction,  and  exem- 
plified the  sentiment  by  the  following  passage  from  Prior: 
"  No  matter  what  beauties  I  saw  in  my  way, 
"  They  were  but  my  visits;  but  thou  art  my  home." 

Steevens. 

So,  in  our  author's  109th  Sonnet: 

"  This  is  my  home  of  love  ;  if  I  have  rang'd, 

"  Like  him  that  travels,  I  return  again."     Malone. 

F.  E2 


420  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S        act  iil 

There  to  remain. 

Lys.  Helen,  it  is  not  so. 

Dem.  Disparage  not  the  faith  tliou  dost  notknow, 
Lest,  to  thy  peril,  thou  aby  it  dear. — 
Look,  where  thy  love  comes  ;  yonder  is  thy  dear. 

Enter  Hermia. 

Her.  Dark  night,  that  from  the  eye  his  func- 
tion takes, 
The  ear  more  quick  of  apprehension  makes  ; 
Wherein  it  doth  impair  the  seeing  sense, 
It  pays  the  hearing  double  recompense  : — 
Thou  art  not  by  mine  eye,  Lysander,  found  ; 
Mine  ear,  I  thank  it,  brought  me  to  thy  sound. 
But  why  unkindly  didst  thou  leave  me  so  ? 

Lys.  Why  should  he  stay,  whom  love  doth  press 
to  go  ? 

Her.  What  love  could  press  Lysander  from  my 
side  ? 

Lys.  Lysander's  love,  that  wouldnot  let  him  bide, 
Fair  Helena  ;  who  more  engilds  the  night 
Than  all  yon  fiery  oes 4  and  eyes  of  light. 

4  all  yon  fiery  oes — ]  Shakspeare  uses  O  for  a  circle.  So, 

in  the  prologue  to  King  Henry  V: 

"  can  we  crowd 

"  Within  this  little  O,  the  very  casques 
"  That  did  affright  the  air  at  Agincourt  ?" 
Again,  in  The  Partheneia  Sacra,  1633  : 

"  —  the  purple  canopy  of  the  earth,  powder'd  over  and  beset 
with  silver  oes,  or  rather  an  azure  vault,"  &c. 

Again, in  JohnDavies  of  Hereford's  Microcosmos,  1605,  p.233: 
"  Which  silver  oes  and  spangles  over-ran."     Steevens. 

D1 'Ewes's  Journal  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  Parliaments,  p.  650, 
mentions  a  patent  to  make  spangles  and  oes  of  gold  ;  and  I  think 
haberdashers  call  small  curtain  rings,  O's,  as  being  circular. 

Tollet. 


sc.  n.  DREAM.  421 

Why  seek'st  thou  me  ?  could  not  this  make  thee 

know, 
The  hate  I  bare  thee  made  me  leave  thee  so  ? 

Her.  You  speak  not  as  you  think ;  it  cannot  be. 

I  I  el.  Lo,  she  is  one  of  this  confederacy  ! 
Now  I  perceive  they  have  conjoin'd,  all  three, 
To  fashion  this  false  sport  in  spite  of  me. 
Injurious  Hermia  !  most  ungrateful  maid! 
Have  you  conspir'd,  have  you  with  these  contriv'd 
To  bait  me  with  this  foul  derision  ? 
Is  all  the  counsel  that  we  two  have  shar'd, 
The  sisters'  vows,5  the  hours  that  we  have  spent, 
When  we  have  chid  the  hasty-footed  time 
For  parting  us, — O,  and  is  all  forgot  ? G 
All  school-days'  friendship,  childhood  innocence  ? 
We,  Hermia,  like  two  artificial  gods,7 


5  The  sisters*  votvs,~\  We  might  read  more  elegantly — The 
sister  vows,  and  a  few  lines  lower, — All  school-day  friendship. 
The  latter  emendation  was  made  by  Mr.  Pope ;  but  changes 
merely  for  the  sake  of  elegance  ought  to  be  admitted  with  great 
caution.     Malone. 

6  For  parti  us;  us, — (),  and  is  all  forgot?]  The  first  folio  omits 
the  word — and.  I  have  received  it  from  the  folio  1032.  Mr. 
Malone  reads — now.     Stelykn.s. 

The  editor  of  the  second  folio,  to  complete  the  metre,  intro- 
duced the  word  and; — "  O,  and  is  all  forgot?"  It  stands  so 
aukwardly,  that  I  am  persuaded  it  was  not  our  author's  word. 

Malone. 

0,  and  is  all  forgo'?}     Mr.  Gibbon  observes,  that  in 

a  poem  of  Gregory  Nazianzeo  on  his  own  life,  are  some  beau- 
tiful Lines  which  burst  from  the  heart,  j  id  speak  the  pangs  of 
injured  and  losl  friendship,  resembling  these.  He  adds  "  Shak- 
speare  had  never  read  the  poems  of  Gregory  Nazianzen :  he  was 
ignorant  (.  I  language;  but  his  mother  tongue,  tie  lan- 

guage of  nature,  i.^  the  same  in  Cap]  i  and  in  Britain." 

Gibbon's  Hist.  Vol.  III.  p.  15.     Heed. 

7  artificial  gods,']  Arlijicial  is  ingenious,  artful. 

Steeyens. 


422  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S       act  hi. 

Have  with  our  neelds 8  created  both  one  flower, 
Both  on  one  sampler,  sitting  on  one  cushion, 
Both  warbling  of  one  song,  both  in  one  key ; 
As  if  our  hands,  our  sides,  voices,  and  minds, 
Had  been  incorporate.     So  we  grew  together, 
Like  to  a  double  cherry,  seeming  parted  j 
But  yet  a  union  in  partition, 


8  Have  with  our  neelds  #c]  Most  of  our  modern  editors, 
with  the  old  copies,  have — needles  ;  but  the  word  was  probably- 
written  by  Shakspeare  neelds,  (a  common  contraction  in  the 
inland  counties  at  this  day, )  otherwise  the  verse  would  be  inhar- 
monious.    See  Gammer  Gurtorfs  Needle. 

Again,  in  Sir  Arthur  Gorges'  translation  of  Lucan,  l6l4: 
"  Thus  Cato  spake,  whose  feeling  words 
"  Like  pricking  neelds,  or  points  of  swords,"  &c. 
Again,  in  Stanyhurst's  Virgil,  1582: 

" on  nceld-wroxx^ht  carpets." 

The  same  ideas  occur  in  Pericles  Prince  of  Tyre,  l6op : 

" she 

"  Would  ever  with  Marina  be  : 
"  Be't  when  they  weav'd  the  sleded  silk, 
"  With  fingers  long,  small,  white  as  milk, 
"  Or  when  she  would  with  sharp  ueeld  wound 
"  The  cambrick,"  &c. 
Again,  ibid  : 

"  Deep  clerks  she  dumbs,  and  with  her  neele  composes 
"  Nature's  own  shape." 
In  the  age  of  Shakspeare  many  contractions  were  used.     Ben 
Jonson  has  wher  for  whether,  in  the  prologue  to  his  Sad  Shep- 
herd ;  and  in  the  Earl  of  Sterline's  Darius,  is  sport  for  support, 
and  tivards  for  towards. 

Of  the  evisceration  and  extension  of  words,  however,  T. 
Churchyard  affords  the  most  numerous  and  glaring  instances ; 
for  he  has  not  scrupled  even  to  give  us  rune  instead  of  ruin,  and 
micst  instead  of  mist,  when  he  wants  rhymes  to  soon,  and  criest. 

Steevens. 

In  the  old  editions  of  these  plays  many  words  of  two  syllables 
are  printed  at  length,  though  intended  to  be  pronounced  as  one. 
Thus  spirit  is  almost  always  so  written,  though  often  used  as  a 
monosyllable ;  and  whether,  though  intended  often  to  be  con- 
tracted, is  always  (I  think,  improperly,)  written  at  length. 

Malone. 


SC.  IT.  DREAM.  423 

Two  lovely  berries  moulded  on  one  stem  : 

So,  with  two  seeming  bodies,  but  one  heart ; 

Two  of  the  first,  like  coats  in  heraldry, 

Due  but  to  one,  and  crowned  with  one  crest.9 

And  will  you  rent  our  ancient  love  asunder, 

To  join  with  men  in  scorning  your  poor  friend  ? 

It  is  not  friendly,  'tis  not  maidenly : 

Our  sex,  as  well  as  I,  may  chide  you  for  it  j 

Though  I  alone  do  feel  the  injury. 

Her.  I  am  amazed  at  your  passionate  words  : 
I  scorn  you  not ;  it  seems  that  you  scorn  me. 

Hel.  Have  you  not  set  Lysander,  as  in  scorn, 
To  follow  me,  and  praise  my  eyes  and  face  ? 
And  made  your  other  love,  Demetrius, 

9  Txvo  of  the  Jirst,  like  coats  in  heraldry, 
Due  but  to  one,  and  croivned  ivith  one  cresti]  The  old  copies 
read — life  coats,  &e.     Steevens. 

The  true  correction  of  the  passage  I  owe  to  the  friendship  and 
communication  of  the  ingenious  Martin  Folkes,  Esq. — Two  of 
the  Jirst,  second,  &c.  are  terms  peculiar  in  heraldry,  to  distinguish 
the  different  quarterings  of  coats.     Theobald. 

These  are,  as  Theobald  observes,  terms  peculiar  to  heraldry  ; 
but  that  observation  does  not  help  to  explain  them. — Every 
branch  of  a  family  is  called  a  house  ;  and  none  but  the  Jirst  of  the 
Jirst  house  can  bear  the  arms  of  the  family,  without  some  distinc- 
tion. Two  of  the  jirst,  therefore,  means  two  coats  of  the  Jirst 
house,  which  are  properly  due  but  to  one.    M.  Mason. 

According  to  the  rules  of  heraldry,  the  Jirst  house  only,  (e.g. 
a  father  who  has  a  son  living,  or  an  elder  brother  as  distinguished 
from  a  younger,)  has  a  right  to  bear  the  family  coat.  The  son's 
coat  is  distinguished  from  the  father's  by  a  label ;  the  younger 
brother's  from  the  elder's  by  a  mullet.  The  same  crest  is  com- 
mon to  both.  Helena  therefore  means  to  say,  that  she  and  her 
friend  were  as  closely  united,  as  much  one  person,  as  if  they  were 
both  of  the  jirst  house;  as  if  they  both  had  the  privilege  due  but 
to  one  person,  (viz.  to  him  of  the  first  house,)  the  right  of 
bearing  the  family  coat  without  any  distinguishing  mark. 

M  A  LONE. 


424  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S        act  in. 

(Who  even  but  now  did  spurn  me  with  his  foot,) 

To  call  me  goddess,  nymph,  divine,  and  rare, 

Precious,  celestial  ?  Wherefore  speaks  he  this 

To  her  he  hates  ?  and  wherefore  doth  Lysander 

Deny  your  love,  so  rich  within  his  soul, 

And  tender  me,  forsooth,  affection  ; 

But  by  your  setting  on,  by  your  consent  ? 

What  though  I  be  not  so  in  grace  as  you, 

So  hung  upon  with  love,  so  fortunate  ; 

But  miserable  most,  to  love  unlov'd  ? 

This  you  should  pity,  rather  than  despise. 

Her.  I  understand  not  what  you  mean  by  this. 

Hel.  Ay,  do,  persever,1  counterfeit  sad  looks, 
Make  mows  upon  me  when  I  turn  my  back ; 
Wink  at  each  other ;  hold  the  sweet  jest  up  : 
This  sport,  well  carried,  shall  be  chronicled. 
If  you  have  any  pity,  grace,  or  manners, 
You  would  not  make  me  such  an  argument.2 
But,  fare  ye  well :  'tis  partly  mine  own  fault ; 
Which  death,  or  absence,  soon  shall  remedy. 

Lys.  Stay,  gentle  Helena  ;  hear  my  excuse ; 
My  love,  my  life,  my  soul,  fair  Helena ! 


1  Ay,  do,  persever,]  Persever  is  the  reading  of  all  the  old 
copies.  The  word  was  formerly  so  pronounced.  Thus  our  au- 
thor, in  All's  ivell  that  ends  well,  Act  IV.  sc.  ii : 

" say  thou  art  mine,  and  ever 

"  My  love,  as  it  begins,  so  shall  persever.'''' 
Again,  in  Glapthorne's  Ar gains  and  Parthenia,  1639  : 

" for  ever 

"  May  they  in  love  and  union  still  persever." 

Steevens. 

*  such  an  argument.]  Such  a  subject  of  light  merriment. 

Johnson. 


So,  in  the  first  part  of  King  Henry  IV.  Act  II.  sc.  ii : 
" it  would  be  argument  for  a  week,"  &c. 

Steevens. 


SC.  IT.  DREAM.  425 

Hel.  O  excellent ! 

Her.  Sweet,  do  not  scorn  her  so. 

Dem.  If  she  cannot  entreat,  I  can  compel. 

Lys.  Thou  canst  compel  no  more  than  she  en- 
treat ; 

Thy  threats  have  no  more  strength,  than  her  weak 
prayers.5 — 

Helen,  I  love  thee  ;  by  my  life,  I  do  ; 

I  swear  by  that  which  I  will  lose  for  thee, 

To  prove  him  false,  that  says  I  love  thee  not. 

Dem.  I  say,  I  love  thee  more  than  he  can  do. 

Lys.  If  thou  say  so,  withdraw,  and  prove  it  too. 

Dem.  Quick,  come, — 

Her.  Lysander,  whereto  tends  all  this  ? 

Lys.  Away,  you  Ethiop! 

Dem.  No,  no,  sir  : — he  will 4 

3 than  her  tveak  prayers.]   The  old  copies  read : 

" than  her  weak  praise."     Steevens. 

Mr.  Theobald  proposed  to  read — -prays.  A  noun  thus  formed 
from  the  verb,  to  pray,  is  much  in  our  author's  manner ;  and 
the  transcriber's  ear  might  have  been  easily  deceived  by  the 
similarity  of  sounds.     Malone. 

4  No,  no,  sir; — he  will  &c]  This  passage,  like  almost  all 
those  in  these  plays  in  which  there  is  a  sudden  transition,  or  the 
sense  is  hastily  broken  oil',  is  much  corrupted  in  the  old  copies. 
My  text  [No,  no  •  hell — sir,']  is  formed  from  the  quarto  printed 
b\  Fisher  and  tin'  first  folio.  The  words  "  he'  W  are  not  in  the 
folio,  and  Sir  is  not  in  the  quarto.  Demetrius,  I  suppose, 
would  say,  No,  no  ;  he'll  not  have  the  resolution  to  disengage 
elf  from  Ilennia.  But  turning  abruptly  to  Lysander,  lie 
addresses  him  ironically: — "  Sir,  seem  to  break  loose;"  &c. 

Malone. 

No  critical  remedy  is  nearer  at  hand,  than  a  supposition  that 
obscure  passages  are  sentences  designedly  abrupt  and  imperfect. 
— L\  Bander  calls  1  lermia  an  "  /Kthiop." — "  No,  no,  sir :"  replies 
Demetrius;  i.  e.  she  is  none;  and  then  ironically  speaks  to  her 
of  Lysander,  as  of  one  whose  struggle  to  break  loose  is  merely 
ii  pretended  effort.    He  next  addresses  his  provocation  personally 


426  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS       act  in. 

Seem  to  break  loose ;  take  on,  as  you  would  follow ; 
But  yet  come  not :  You  are  a  tame  man,  go  ! 

Lys.  Hang  off,  thou  cat,  thou  burr :  vile  thing 
let  loose ; 
Or  I  will  shake  thee  from  me,  like  a  serpent. 

Her.  Why  are  you  grown  so  rude  ?  what  change 
is  this, 
Sweet  love  ? 

Lys.  Thy  love  ?  out,  tawny  Tartar,  out ! 

Out,  loathed  medicine  !  hated  potion,  hence ! 

Her.  Do  you  not  jest  ? 

Hel,  Yes,  'sooth  ;  and  so  do  you. 

Lys.  Demetrius,  I  will  keep  my  word  with  thee. 

Dem.  I  would,  I  had  your  bond ;  for,  I  perceive, 
A  weak  bond  holds  you  ;  I'll  not  trust  your  word. 

Lys.  What  should  I  hurt  her,  strike  her,  kill 
her  dead  ? 
Although  I  hate  her,  I'll  not  harm  her  so. 

Her.  What,  can  you  do  me  greater  harm,  than 

hate  ? 
Hate  me !  wherefore  ?  O  me  !  what  news,  my  love  ? 
Am  not  I  Hermia  ?  Are  not  you  Lysander  ? 
I  am  as  fair  now,  as  I  was  erewhile. 
Since  night,  you  lov'd  me ;  yet,  since  night  you 

left  me : 
Why,  then  you  left  me, — O,  the  gods  forbid ! — 

to  Lysander. — I  have  left  the  text  as  I  found  it ;  only  reading 
(for  the  sake  of  metre)  he  will,  instead  of  he'll.     Steevens. 

The  only  difficulty  in  this  passage  arises  from  the  words — he 
•will,  sir,  which  are  omitted  in  the  second  folio.  In  that  edition 
it  runs  thus : 

"  No,  no,  sir,  seeme  to  breake  loose  ; 
"  Take  on  as  you  would  follow, 
"  But  yet  come  not :  you  are  a  tame  man,  go." 
This  appears  to  me  the  true  reading.    M.  Mason. 


sc.  n.  DREAM.  427 

In  earnest,  shall  I  say  ? 

Lys.  Ay,  by  my  life ; 

And  never  did  desire  to  see  thee  more. 
Therefore,  be  out  of  hope,  of  question,  doubt, 
Be  certain,  nothing  truer ;  'tis  no  jest, 
That  I  do  hate  thee,  and  love  Helena. 

Her.  O  me  !  you  juggler !  you  canker-blossom  \b 
You  thief  of  love  !  what,  have  you  come  by  night, 
And  stol'n  my  love's  heart  from  him  ? 

Hel.  Fine,  i'faith ! 

Have  you  no  modesty,  no  maiden  shame, 
No  touch  of  bashfulness  ?  What,  will  you  tear 
Impatient  answers  from  my  gentle  tongue  ? 
Fie,  fie !  you  counterfeit,  you  puppet  you ! 

Her.  Puppet !  why  so  ?  Ay,  that  way  goes  the 
game. 
Now  I  perceive  that  she  hath  made  compare 
Between  our  statures,  she  hath  urg'd  her  height ; 
And  with  her  personage,  her  tall  personage, 
Her  height, forsooth, she  hath  prevail'd  with  him. — 
And  are  you  grown  so  high  in  his  esteem, 
Because  I  am  so  dwarfish,  and  so  low  ? 
How  low  am  I,  thou  painted  maypole  ?6  speak  ; 


5  O  me  !  you  juggler  !  you  canker-blossom  /]  Juggler  in  this 
line  is  used  as  a  trisyllable.     So  again,  in  A'.  Henry  VI.  P.  I : 
"  She  and  the  dauphin  have  been  juggling?* 
So  also  lidding,  wrestler^  and  many  more.     Malone. 

you  canker-blossom  !]  The  canher-blossom  is  not  in  this 

place  the  blossom  of  the  canker  or  ivild  rose,  which  our  author 
alludes  to  in  Much  Ado  about  Nothing,  Act  I.  sc.  iii : 

"  I  had  rather  be  a  canker  in  a  hedge,  than  a  rose  in  his  grace:'* 
but  a  worm  that  preys  on  the  leaves  or  buds  of  flowers,  always 
beginning  in  the  middle.     So,  in  this  play  Act  II.  sc.  iii. 
"  Some  to  kill  cankers  in  the  musk-rose  buds." 

Steevens. 

s  thou  painted  maypole?]    So,  in    Stubbes's  Anatomic 


428  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS        act  hi. 

How  low  am  I  ?  I  am  not  yet  so  low, 

But  that  my  nails  can  reach  unto  thine  eyes. 

Hel.  I  pray  you,  though  you  mock  me,  gentle- 
men, 
Let  her  not  hurt  me  :  I  was  never  curst  ;7 
I  have  no  gift  at  all  in  shrewishness ; 
I  am  a  right  maid  for  my  cowardice ; 
Let  her  not  strike  me  :  You,  perhaps,  may  think, 
Because  she's  something  lower  than  myself, 
That  I  can  match  her. 

Her.  Lower !  hark,  again. 

Hel.  Good  Hermia,  do  not  be  so  bitter  with  me. 
I  evermore  did  love  you,  Hermia, 
Did  ever  keep  your  counsels,  never  wrong'd  you ; 
Save  that,  in  love  unto  Demetrius, 
I  told  him  of  your  stealth  unto  this  wood : 
He  follow'd  you  ;  for  love,  I  follow'd  him. 
But  he  hath  chid  me  hence  ;  and  threaten'd  me 
To  strike  me,  spurn  me,  nay,  to  kill  me  too : 
And  now,  so  you  will  let  me  quiet  go, 
To  Athens  will  I  bear  my  folly  back, 
And  follow  you  no  further  :  Let  me  go  : 
You  see  how  simple  and  how  fond  I  am.8 


of  Abuses,  8vo.  1583:  "But  their  cheefest  iewell  thei  bryng 
from  thence  is  their  Male  pole,  whiche  thei  bryng  home  with 
great  veneration,  as  thus  :  Thei  have  twentie  or  fourtie  yoke  of 
oxen,  every  oxe  hauyng  a  sweete  nosegaie  of  flowers  placed  on 
the  tippe  of  his  homes,  and  these  oxen  drawe  home  this  Male 
pole,  (this  stinckyng  idoll  rather)  whiche  is  couered  all  ouer  with 
flowers  and  hearbes  bounde  rounde  aboute  with  strynges  from 
the  top  to  the  bottome,  and  some  tyme  painted  ivith  variable  co- 
lours" &c.     Steevens. 

7 curst ;]  i.  e.  shrewish  or  mischievous. 

Thus  in  the  old  proverbial  saying :  **  Curst  cows  have  short 
liorns."     Steevens. 

8 homo  fond  J  am.']  Fond,  i.  e.  foolish.     So,  in  The  Mer- 
chant of  Venice: 


sc.  ii.  DREAM.  429 

Her.  Why,  get  you  gone :  Who  is't  that  hinders 
you? 

Hel.  A  foolish  heart,  that  I  leave  here  behind. 

Her.  What,  with  Lysander? 

Hel.  With  Demetrius. 

Lys.  Be  not  afraid :  she  shall  not  harm  thee, 
Helena. 

Dem.  No,  sir;  she  shall  not,  though  you  take  her 
part. 

Hel.  0,whenshe'sangry,she  is  keen  andshrewd: 
She  was  a  vixen,  when  she  went  to  school  ;9 
And,  though  she  be  but  little,  she  is  fierce. 

Her.  Little  again  ?  nothing  but  low  and  little? — 
Why  will  you  suffer  her  to  flout  me  thus? 
Let  me  come  to  her. 

Lys.  Get  you  gone,  you  dwarf; 

You  minimus,  of  hind'ring  knot-grass  made;1 


I  do  wonder, 


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

9  She  tuas  a  vixen,  when  she  Went  to  school ;]  Vixen  or  JUsen 
primitively  signifies  a  female fox.  So,  in  The  Bohe  of  Hunting, 
that  is  cleped  Maijster  of  Game  ;  an  ancient  MS.  in  the  collec- 
tion of  Francis  Douce,  Esq.  Gray's  Inn:  "  The  fxen  of  the 
Foxe  is  assaute  onys  in  the  yer.  She  hath  venomous  biting  as 
a  wolfe."     Steevens. 

1 qfhituPring  knot-grass  made;]    It  appears  that  knot- 

grass  uas  anciently  supposed  to  prevent  the  growth  of  any  ani- 
mal or  child. 

Beaumont  and  Fletcher  mention  this  property  of  it  in  The 
Knight  of  the  Burning  Pestle: 

"  Should  they  put  him  into  a  straight  pair  of  gaskins,  'twere 
worse  than  kmi-grosSf  he  would  never  grow  after  it." 

Again,  in  the  Coxcomb: 

"  We  want  a  boy  extremely  for  this  function,  kept  under,  for 
a  \rar,  with  milk  and  h/iot-grass."  Daisy-roots  were  supposed 
to  have  the  same  eH'ect. 


430  MIDSUMMER-NIG  HT'S       act  iii. 

You  bead,  you  acorn. 

Dem.  You  are  too  officious, 

In  her  behalf  that  scorns  your  services. 
Let  her  alone  ;  speak  not  of  Helena ; 
Take  not  her  part :  for  if  thou  dost  intend 2 
Never  so  little  show  of  love  to  her, 
Thou  shalt  aby  it.3 

Lys.  Now  she  holds  me  not ; 

Now  follow,  if  thou  dar'st,  to  try  whose  right, 
Or  thine  or  mine,  is  most  in  Helena.4 

Dem.  Follow  ?  nay,  I'll  go  with  thee,  cheek  by 
jole.  [Exeunt  Lys.  and  Dem. 

Her.  You,  mistress,  all  this  coil  is  'long  of  you  : 
Nay,  go  not  back. 

That  prince  of  verbose  and  pedantic  coxcombs,  Richard  Tom- 
linson,  apothecary,  in  his  translation  of  Renodceus  his  Dispensa- 
tory, 1657,  informs  us  that  knot-grass  "  is  a  low  reptant  hearb, 
with  exile,  copious,  nodose,  and  geniculated  branches."  Perhaps 
no  hypochondriack  is  to  be  found,  who  might  not  derive  his  cure 
from  the  perusal  of  any  single  chapter  in  this  work.    Steevens. 

8 intend — ]  i.  e.  pretend.     So,  in  Much  Ado: 

"  Intend  a  kind  of  zeal  both  to  the  prince  and  Claudio." 

Steevens. 

3  Thou  shalt  aby  it.~\  To  aby  is  to  pay  dear  for,  to  suffer.  So, 
in  The  Downfall  of  Robert  Earl  qf  Huntingdon,  16OI : 

" Had  1  sword  and  buckler  here, 

"  You  should  aby  these  questions." 
The  word  has  occurred  before  in  this  play.     See  p.  420,  line  4. 
Again,  in  The  Pinner  of  Wakefield,  1599 : 

" but  thou  shalt  dear  aby  this  blow."     Steevens. 

Thou  shalt  aby  it.]  Aby  it,  is  abide  by  it ;  i.  e.  stand  to  it,  an- 
swer to  it.  So,  in  Psalm  cxxx.  v.  3,  in  Common  Prayer :  "  If 
thou,  Lord,  wilt  be  extreme  to  mark  what  is  done  amiss  :  O  Lord, 
who  may  abide  it  ?"     Harris. 

4  Or  thine  or  mine,  &c]  The  old  copies  read — Of  thine.  The 
emendation  is  Mr.  Theobald's.  I  am  not  sure  that  the  old  read- 
ing is  corrupt.  If  the  line  had  run — "  Of  mine  or  thine,"  I 
should  have  suspected  that  the  phrase  was  borrowed  from  the 
Latin : — Now  follow,  to  try  whose  right  of  property t — of  meum 
or  tuum, — is  the  greatest  in  Helena.    Malone. 


sc.  n.  DREAM.  431 

Hel.  I  will  not  trust  you,  I ; 

Nor  longer  stay  in  your  curst  company. 
Your  hands,  than  mine,  are  quicker  for  a  fray; 
My  legs  are  longer  though,  to  run  away.      \_Exit. 

Her.  I  am  amaz'd,  and  know  not  what  to  say. 

[Exit,  pursuing  Helena. 

Obe.  This  is  thy  negligence:  still  thou  mistak'st, 
Or  else  commit'st  thy  knaveries  wilfully. 

Puck.  Believe  me,  king  of  shadows,  I  mistook. 
Did  not  you  tell  me,  I  should  know  the  man 
By  the  Athenian  garments  he  had  on  ? 
And  so  far  blameless  proves  my  enterprize, 
That  I  have  'nointed  an  Athenian's  eyes : 
And  so  far  am  I  glad  it  so  did  sort,5 
As  this  their  jangling  I  esteem  a  sport. 

Obe.  Thou  seest,  these  lovers  seek  a  place  to  fight : 
Hie  therefore,  Robin,  overcast  the  night ; 
The  starry  welkin  cover  thou  anon 
With  drooping  fog,  as  black  as  Acheron ; 
And  lead  these  testy  rivals  so  astray, 
As  one  come  not  within  another's  way. 
Like  to  Lysander  sometime  frame  thy  tongue, 
Then  stir  Demetrius  up  with  bitter  wrong ; 
And  sometime  rail  thou  like  Demetrius ; 
And  from  each  other  look  thou  lead  them  thus, 
Till  o'er  their  brows  death-counterfeiting  sleep 
With  leaden  legs  and  batty  wings  doth  creep  : 
Then  crush  this  herb  into  Lysander's  eye ; 
Whose  liquor  hath  this  virtuous  property,6 


i so  did  sort,]  So  happen  in  the  issue.     Johnson. 

So,  in  Monsieur  D' Olive,  1606: 

" never  look  to  have  any  action  sort  to  your  honour." 

Steevens. 
0 


—  virtuous  propertyj\    Salutiferous.     So  lie  calls,  in  The 
Tempest,  poisonous  dew,  wicked  dew.     Johnson. 


432  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS         act  hi. 

To  take  from  thence  all  error,  with  his  might, 
And  make  his  eye-balls  roll  with  wonted  sight. 
When  they  next  wake,  all  this  derision 
Shall  seem  a  dream,  and  fruitless  vision ; 
And  back  to  Athens  shall  the  lovers  wend,7 
With  league,  whose  date  till  death  shall  never  end. 
Whiles  I  in  this  affair  do  thee  employ, 
I'll  to  my  queen,  and  beg  her  Indian  boy ; 
And  then  I  will  her  charmed  eye  release 
From  monster's  view,  and  all  things  shall  be  peace. 

Puck.  My  fairy  lord,  this  must  be  done  with 

haste ; 
For  night's  swift  dragons8  cut  the  clouds  full  fast, 
And  yonder  shines  Aurora's  harbinger ; 
At  whose  approach,  ghosts,  wandering  here  and 

there, 
Troop  home  to  church-yards :  damned  spirits  all, 
That  in  cross-ways  and  floods  have  burial,9 

7 wend.~\  i.  e.  go.     So,  in  The  Comedy  of  Errors: 

"  Hopeless  and  helpless  doth  iEgeon  wend"  Steevens. 

8  For  night's  swift  dragons  8f€.~\  So,  in  Cymbeline,  Act  II. 
sc.  ii : 

"  Swift,  swift,  ye  dragons  of  the  night  /" 

See  my  note  on  this  passage,  concerning  the  vigilance  imputed 
to  the  serpent  tribe.     Steevens. 

This  circumstance  Shakspeare  might  have  learned  from  a  pas- 
sage in  Golding's  translation  of  Ovid,  which  he  has  imitated  in 
The  Tempest: 

"  Among  the  earth-bred  brothers  you  a  mortal  war  did  set, 
"  And  brought  asleep  the  dragon  fell,  whose  eyes  tvere 
never  shet."     Malone. 

damned  spirits  all, 


That  in  cross-ways  and  floods  have  burial,']  The  ghosts  of 
self-murderers,  who  are  buried  in  cross-roads  ;  and  of  those  who 
being  drowned,  were  condemned  (according  to  the  opinion  of  the 
ancients)  to  wander  for  a  hundred  years,  as  the  rites  of  sepulture 
had  never  been  regularly  bestowed  on  their  bodies.  That  the 
waters  were  sometimes  the  place  of  residence  for  damned  spirits, 


sc.  ii.  DREAM.  433 

Already  to  their  wormy  beds1  are  gone  ; 

For  fear  lest  day  should  look  their  shames  upon, 

They  wilfully  themselves  exile  from  light, 

And  must  for  aye  consort  with  black-brow* d  night.2 

Obe.  But  we  are  spirits  of  another  sort : 
I  with  the  morning's  love  have  oft  made  sport  j3 


we  learn  from  the  ancient  bl.  1.  romance  of  Syr  Eglamoure  of 
Artoys,  no  date : 

"  Let  some  preest  a  gospel  saye, 

"  For  doute  of  fendes  in  the  fade."     Steevens. 

1  — —  to  their  wormy  beds  — ]  This  periphrasis  for  the  grave 
has  been  borrowed  by  Milton,  in  his  Ode  on  the  Death  of  a  fair 
Infant ; 

"  Or  that  thy  beauties  lie  in  ivormy  bed."     Steevens. 

* black-brow'd  night.]  So,  in  King  John: 

"  Why,  here  walk  I,  in  the  black-brow  of  night." 

Steevens. 

3  /  ivith  the  morning's  love  have  oft  made  sport ;~\  Thus  all  the 
old  copies,  and  I  think,  rightly.  Tithonus  was  the  husband  of 
Aurora,  and  Tithonus  was  no  young  deity. 

Thus,  in  Aurora,  a  collection  of  sonnets,  by  Lord  Stcrline, 
lOOi: 

"  And  why  should  Tithon  thus,  whose  day  grows  late, 

"  Enjoy  the  morning's  love?" 
Again,  in  The  Parasit aster,  by  J.  Marston,  1606: 

"  Aurora  yet  keeps  chaste  old  Tithon's  bed ; 

"  Yet  blushes  at  it  when  she  rises." 
Again,  in  Spenser's  Fairy  Queen,  B.  III.  c.  iii : 

"  As  faire  Aurora  rising  hastily, 

"  Dotli  by  her  blushing  tell  that  she  did  lye 

"  All  night  in  old  Tithonus' frozen  bed." 
Again,  in  Thr  Faithful  Shepherdess  of  Fletcher: 

" O,  lend  me  all  thy  red, 

"  Thou  Bhame-fac'd  morning,  when  from  Titho?i's  bed 

"  Thou  risest  ever-maiden  !" 
How  such  ;t  waggish  spirit  as  the  King  of  the  Fairies  might 
make  sport  with  an  antiquated  lover,  or  his  mistress  in  his  absence, 
may  be  easily  understood.     Dr.  Johnson  reads  with  all  the  mo- 
dern editors :  "  1  with  the  mornins  light.'*  &c.     Steevens. 

Will  not  this  passage  bear  a  different  explanation  ?  By  the 
morning's  love  I  apprehend  L'ephalus,  the  mighty  hunter  and 

VOL.  IV.  F  F 


43 *  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S       act  in. 

And,  like  a  forester,  the  groves  may  tread, 
Even  till  the  eastern  gate,4  all  fiery-red, 
Opening  on  Neptune  with  fair  blessed  beams, 
Turns  into  yellow  gold  his  salt-green  streams. 
But,  notwithstanding,  haste  ;  make  no  delay : 
We  may  effect  this  business  yet  ere  day. 

\_Exit  Oberon. 

Puck.  Up  and  down,  up  and  down  j 
I  will  lead  them  up  and  down  : 
I  am  fear'd  in  field  and  town ; 
Goblin,  lead  them  up  and  down. 
Here  comes  one. 


Enter  Lysander. 

Lys.  Where  art  thou,  proud  Demetrius  ?  speak 
thou  now. 

Puck.  Here  villain  ;  drawn  and  ready.    Where 
art  thou  ? 

Lys.  I  will  be  with  thee  straight. 

paramour  of  Aurora,  is  intended.  The  context,  "  And,  like  a 
forester,"  &c.  seems  to  show  that  the  chace  was  the  sport  which 
Oberon  boasts  he  partook  with  the  morning's  love. 

Holt  White. 

The  connection  between  Aurora  and  Cephalus  is  also  pointed 
out  in  one  of  the  Poems  that  form  a  collection  intitled  The  Phoe- 
nix Nest,  &c.  4to.  1593,  p.  95  : 

"  Aurora  now  began  to  rise  againe 

"  From  watrie  couch  and  from  old  Tithons  side, 

"  In  hope  to  kiss  upon  Acteian  plaine 

"  Yong  Cephalusy'  &c.     Steevens. 

*  Even  till  the  eastern  gate,  &c.~]  What  the  fairy  monarch 
means  to  inform  Puck  of,  is  this.  That  he  was  not  compelled, 
like  meaner  spirits,  to  vanish  at  the  first  appearance  of  the  dawn. 

Steevens. 


sen.  DREAM.  433 

Puck.  Follow  me  then 

To  plainer  ground. 

[Exit  Lys.  as  following  the  voice. 

Enter  Demetrius. 

Deal  Lysander !  speak  again. 

Thou  runaway,  thou  coward,  art  thou  fled  ? 
Speak.    In  some  bush  ?  Where  dost  thou  hide  thy 
head  ? 

Puck.  Thou  coward,  art  thou  bragging  to  the 

stars, 
Telling  the  bushes  that  thou  look'st  for  wars, 
And  wilt  not  come  ?  Come,  recreant ;  come,  thou 

child ; 
I'll  whip  thee  with  a  rod :  He  is  dehTd, 
That  draws  a  sword  on  thee. 

Dem.  Yea ;  art  thou  there  ? 

Puck.  Follow  my  voice  ;  we'll  try  no  manhood 
here.  \_~ExeanL 

Re-enter  Lysander. 

Lys.  lie  goes  before  me,  and  still  dares  me  on  j 
When  I  come  where  he  calls,  then  he  is  gone. 
The  villain  is  much  lighter  heel'd  than  I : 
I  follow'd  fast,  but  faster  he  did  fly ; 
That  fallen  am  I  in  dark  uneven  way, 
And  here  will  rest  me.     Come,  thou  gentle  day ! 

[Lies  down. 
For  if  but  once  thou  show  me  thy  grey  light, 
I'll  find  Demetrius,  and  revenge  this  spite.  [Sleeps. 


T  V  2 


436  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS        actiii, 


Re-enter  Puck  and  Demetrius. 

Puck.  Ho,  ho !  ho,  ho !  Coward,   why  coni'st 
thou  not?5 

Dem.  Abide  me,  if  thou  dar'st ;  for  well  I  wot, 


s  Puck.  Ho,  ho  !  ho,  ho  !  Coward,  why  coni'st  thou  not?]  This 
exclamation  would  have  been  uttered  by  Puck  with  greater  pro- 
priety, if  he  were  not  now  playing  an  assumed  character,  which 
he,  in  the  present  instance,  seems  to  forget.  In  the  old  song 
printed  by  Peck  and  Percy,  in  which  all  his  gambols  are  related, 
he  concludes  every  stanza  with  Ho,  ho,  ho  !  So,  in  Grim  the 
Collier  of  Croydon  : 

"  Ho,  ho,  ho,  my  masters  !  No  good  fellowship ! 

"  Is  Robin  Goodfellow  a  bug-bear  grown, 

"  That  he  is  not  worthy  to  be  bid  sit  down  ?" 
Again,  in  Drayton's  Nymphidia  : 

"  Hoh,  hoh,  quoth  Hob,  God  save  thy  grace." 
It  was  not,  however,  as  has  been  asserted,  the  appropriate  ex- 
clamation, in  our  author's  time,  of  this  eccentric  character ;  the 
devil  himself  having,  if  not  a  better,  at  least  an  older,  title  to  it. 
So,  in  Histriomastix  (as  quoted  by  Mr.  Steevens  in  a  note  on 
King  Richard  III.)  a  roaring  devil  enters,  with  the  Vice  on 
his  back,  Iniquity  in  one  hand,  and  Juventus  in  the  other, 
crying : 

"  Ho,  ho,  ho  !  these  babes  mine  are  all." 
Again,  in  Gammer  Gurton's  Needle: 

"  But  Diccon,  Diccon,  did  not  the  devil  cry  ho,  ho,  ho?" 
And,  in  the  same  play : 

"  By  the  masse,  ich  saw  him  of  late  cal  up  a  great  blacke 
devill. 

"  O,  the  knave  cryed  ho,  ho,  he  roared  and  he  thundered." 
So,  in  the  Epitaph  attributed  to  Shakspeare : 

"  Hoh!  quoth  the  devil,  'tis  my  John  o'Coombe." 
Again,  in  Goulart's  Histories,  1607: 

"  The  fellow  .  .  .  coming  to  the  stove  .  .  .  sawe  the  Diuills 
in  horrible  formes,  some  sitting,  some  standing,  others  walking, 
some  ramping  against  the  walles,  but  al  of  them  assoone  as  they 
beheld  him  ran  unto  him,  crying  Hoh,  Hoh,  what  makest  thou 
here  ?" 

Again,  in  the  same  book  : 

"  The  black  guests   returned  no  answere,  but  roared  and 


sc.  n.  DREAM.  431 

Thou  rurm'st  before  me,  shifting  every  place  ; 
And  dar'st  not  stand,  nor  look  me  in  the  face. 
Where  art  thou  ?6 

Puck.  Come  hither ;  I  am  here. 

Dem.  Nav,  then  thou  mock'st  me.     Thou  shalt 
buy  this  dear,7 
If  ever  I  thy  face  by  day-light  see  : 
Now,  go  thy  way.     Faintness  constraineth  me 
To  measure  out  my  length  on  this  cold  bed. — 
By  day's  approach  look  to  be  visited. 

[_Lies  down  and  sleeps. 


cryed  out,  Hoh  sirra  let  alone  the  child,  or  we  will  teare  thee  all 
to  pieces." 

Indeed,  from  a  passage  in  Wily  Beguiled,  1606,  (as  quoted  in 
the  new  edition  of  Dodsley's  Old  Plays, )  I  suspect  that  this  same 
"  knavish  sprite"  was  sometimes  introduced  on  the  stage  as  a 
demi-devil :  "  I'll  rather,"  it  is  one  Robin  Goodfellow  who 
speaks,  "  put  on  myjlashing  red  nose,  and  my  jlaming  face,  and 
come  wrap'd  in  a  calf's  skin,  and  cry  ho,  hoS'  See  also,  Grim 
the  Collier  of  Croydon.     Ritson. 

The  song  above  alluded  to  may  be  found  in  Percy's  Reliques 
of  Ancient  Poetry,  Vol.  III.  p.  203.     Malone. 

6  Where  art  thou?]  For  the  sake  of  the  measure,  which  is 
otherwise  imperfect,  I  suppose  we  ought  to  read : 
"  Where  art  thou  nolo?" 
Demetrius,  conceiving  Lysander  to  have  still  been  shifting  his 
ground,  very  naturally  asks  him  where  he  is  at  that  instant. 

Steevens. 

7 buy  this  dear,']    i.  e.  thoti  shalt  dearly  pay  for  this. 

Though  this  is  sense,  and  may  well  enough  stand,  yet  the  poet 
perhaps  wrote — thou  shalt  'by  it  dear.  So,  in  another  place, 
thou  shalt  aby  it.  So,  Milton,  "  Hotv  dearly  I  abide  that  boast 
so  vain.'1     Johnson, 


438  MIDSUMMER-MIGHTS       act  hi. 


Enter  Helena. 

Hel.  O  weary  night,  O  long  and  tedious  night, 
Abate  thy  hours :  shine,  comforts,  from  the 
east; 
That  I  may  back  to  Athens,  by  day-light, 

From  these  that  my  poor  company  detest : — 
And,  sleep,  that  sometime  shuts  up  sorrow's  eye, 
Steal  me  a  while  from  mine  own  company.8 

[Sleeps. 

Puck.  Yet  but  three  ?  Come  one  more  ; 
Two  of  both  kinds  makes  up  four. 
Here  she  comes,  curst  and  sad : — 
Cupid  is  a  knavish  lad, 
Thus  to  make  poor  females  mad. 

Enter  Hermia. 

Her.  Never  so  weary,  never  so  in  woe, 

Bedabbled  with  the  dew,  and  torn  with  briers^ 
I  can  no  farther  crawl,  no  further  go ; 

My  legs  can  keep  no  pace  with  my  desires. 
Here  will  I  rest  me,  till  the  break  of  day. 
Heavens  shield  Lysander,  if  they  mean  a  fray ! 

[Lies  cloxvn. 

Puck.  On  the  ground 
Sleep  sound : 
I'll  apply 
To  your  eye, 
Gentle  lover,  remedy. 

[Squeezing  the  juice  on  Lysander's  eye. 


8  Steal  me  a  while  from  mine  own  company.]  Thus  also  in  an 
address  to  sleep,  in  Daniel's  tragedy  of  Cleopatra:  I.599: 
"  That  from  ourselves  so  steal'st  ourselves  away." 

Steevens, 


sc.  ii.  DREAM.  $39 

When  thou  wak'st, 

Thou  tak'st9 

True  delight 

In  the  sight 
Of  thy  former  lady's  eye  : 
And  the  country  proverb  known, 
That  every  man  should  take  his  own, 
In  vour  waking:  shall  be  shown  : 

Jack  shall  have  Jill ; 1 

Nought  shall  go  ill : 
I  he  man  shall  have  his  mare  again,  and  all  shall 

be  well.2 

[Exit  Puck. — Dem.  Hel.  &c.  sleep. 

9  When  thou  toak'st, 
Thou   tak'st  &c]     The  second  line  would  be  improved,  1 
think,  both  in  its  measure  and  construction,  if  it  were  written 
thus : 

When  thou  ivak'st, 

See  thou  tak'st, 

True  delight,  &c.     Tyrwhitt. 

1  Jack  shall  have  Jill;  &c]    These  three  last  lines  are  to  be 
found  among  Heywood's  Epigrams  on  Three  Hundred  Proverbs. 

Steevens. 

* all  shall  be  well.]    Well  is  so  bad  a  rhyme  to  ill,  that  I 

cannot  help  supposing  our  author  wrote — still ;  i.  e.  all  this  dis- 
cord shall  subside  in  a  calm,  become  hushed  and  quiet.  So,  in 
Othello: 

" Ha  !  no  more  moving  ? 

"  Still  as  the  grave.'*     Steevens. 


440  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S       act  ir. 

ACT  IV.     SCENE  I* 

The  same. 

Enter  Titania  and  Bottom,  Fairies   attending ; 
Oberon  belmid  unseen. 

Tita.  Come,  sit  thee  down  upon  this  flowery  bed, 
While  I  thy  amiable  cheeks  do  coy,4 
And  stick  musk-roses  in  thy  sleek  smooth  head, 
And  kiss  thy  fair  large  ears,  my  gentle  joy. 

Bot.  Where's  Peas-blossom  ? 

Peas.  Ready. 

s  I  see  no  reason  why  the  fourth  Act  should  begin  here,  when 
there  seems  no  interruption  of  the  action.  In  the  old  quartos  of 
l600,  there  is  no  division  of  acts,  which  seems  to  have  been 
afterwards  arbitrarily  made  in  the  first  folio,  and  may  therefore 
be  altered  at  pleasure.     Johnson. 

4 do  coy,]  To  coy,  is  to  sooth,  to  stroke.     So,  in  The 

Arraignment  of  Paris,  1584  : 

"  Plays  with   Amyntas'  lusty  boy,  and  coys  him  in  the 
dales." 
Again,  in  Warner's  Albion's  England,  1602,  Book  VI.  ch.  xxx: 
"  And  whilst  she  coys  his  sooty  cheeks,  or  curls  his  sweaty 
top." 
Again,  in  Sir  A .  Gorges'  translation  of  Lucan,  B.  IX : 

" his  sports  to  prove, 

"  Coying  that  powerful  queen  of  love." 
Again,  in  Golding's  translation  of  the  /th  Book  of  Ovid's  Meta- 
morphosis: 

"  Their  dangling  dewclaps  with  his  hand  he  coid  unfear- 
fully." 
Again,  ibid: 

" and  with  her  hand  had  coid 

"  The  dragons'  reined  neckes — ." 
The  behaviour  of  Titania,  on  this  occasion,  seems  copied  from 
that  of  the  lady  in  Apideius,  Lib.  VIII.     Stekvens. 


sc.  i.  DREAM.         ..  441 

Bot.  Scratch  my  head,  Peas-blossom. — Where's 
monsieur  Cobweb  ? 

Cob.  Readv. 

Bot.  Monsieur  Cobweb ;  good  monsieur,  get 
your  weapons  in  your  hand,  and  kill  me  a  red- 
hipped  humble-bee  on  the  top  of  a  thistle ;  and, 
good  monsieur,  bring  me  the  honey-bag.  Do  not 
fret  yourself  too  much  in  the  action,  monsieur ; 
and,  good  monsieur,  have  a  care  the  honey-bag 
break  not ;  I  would  be  loath  to  have  you  over- 
flown ?  with  a  honey-bag,  signior. — Where's  mon- 
sieur Mustard-seed  ? 

Musr.  Ready. 

Bot.  Give  me  your  neif,6  monsieur  Mustard- 
seed.  Pray  you,  leave  your  courtesy,  good  monsieur. 

Must.  What's  your  will  ? 

Bot.  Nothing,  good  monsieur,  but  to  help  ca- 
valero  Cobweb 7  to  scratch.  I  must  to  the  barber's, 
monsieur ;  for,  methinks,  I  am  marvellous  hairy 
about  the  face  :  and  I  am  such  a  tender  ass,  if  my 
hair  do  but  tickle  me,  I  must  scratch. 

Tita.  What,  wilt  thou  hear  some  musick,  my 
sweet  love  ? 

Bot.  I  have  a  reasonable  good  ear  in  musick : 
let  us  have  the  tongs8  and  the  bones. 

a  over-Jlu-Aii  — ]  It  should  be  overflow' d ;  but  it  appears 

from  a  rhyme  in  another  play  that  the  mistake  was  our  author's. 

Malone. 

1  perceive  no  mistake.     Overflown  is  the  participle  passive. 
See  Dr.  .Johnson's  Diet.     Steevkns. 

r' '"','/>]  '•  e>  hst.     So,  in  King  Henry  IV.  Act  If.  sc.  x : 

"  Sweet  knight,  I  kiss  thy  neif.''''     Grey. 

■  cavalero  Cobweb — ]  Without  doubt  it  should  be  cava- 


lero  Peas-blossom  ;  as  for  cavalero  Cobweb,  he  had  just  been  dis- 
patched upon  a  perilous  adventure.     Grey. 

e  the  tongs — ]     The  old  rustick  musick  of  the  tongs  and 


442  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S         act  jr. 

Tita.  Or,  say,  sweet  love,  what  thou  desir'st  to 
eat. 

Bot.  Truly,  a  peck  of  provender ;  I  could  munch 
your  good  dry  oats.  Methinks,  I  have  a  great 
desire  to  a  bottle  of  hay :  good  hay,  sweet  hay, 
hath  no  fellow. 

Tita.  I  have  a  venturous  fairy  that  shall  seek 
The  squirrel's  hoard,9  and  fetch  thee  new  nuts. 

Bot.  I  had  rather  have  a  handful,  or  two,  of 
dried  peas.  But,  I  pray  you,  let  none  of  your 
people  stir  me  j  I  have  an  exposition  of  sleep  come 
upon  ine. 

Tita.  Sleep  thou,  and  I  will  wind  thee  in  my 
arms. 


"key.     The  folio  has  this  stage  direction  :  "  Musiche  Tongs,  Ru- 

rall  Musicke." 

This  rough  rousick  is  likewise  mentioned  by  Marston,  in  an 

address  ad  rithmum  prefixed  to  the  second  Book  of  his  Satires, 

1598: 

"  Yee  wel-match'd  twins  (whose  like-tun'd  tongs  affords 
"  Such  musical  delight)"  &c.     Steevens. 

At  a  banquet  given  by  Ralph  Freman,  Lord  Mayor  of  Lon- 
don, to  the  King  and  Queen,  g  Car.  I.  1033,  at  Merchant  Tay- 
lor's hall,  the  ceremonial  of  which  is  set  forth  in  Channcy's 
Hertfordshire,  p.  123,  the  musick  of  the  tongs  is  introduced ; 
and  from  the  manner  in  which  it  is  mentioned,  could  not  be 
of  very  agreeable  sound,  though  well  adapted  to  the  delicacy  of 
Bottom's  ears.  In  the  procession  it  is  said,  "  These  horsemen 
had  for  their  musick  about  a  dozen  of  the  best  trumpeters  in  their 
liveries  sounding  before  them  ;  after  whom  came  the  antimask- 
ers,  representing  cripples  and  beggars,  on  the  poorest  leanest 
jades  the  dirt  carts  could  afford,  who  had  their  musick  of  keys 
and  tongs,  and  the  like  snaping,  and  yet  playing  in  a  consort 
before  them ;  the  variety  and  change  from  such  noble  musick 
and  gallant  horses  as  went  before  unto  the  proper  musick  and 
pitiful  horses  of  these  cripples  made  the  greater  divertisement." 

Reed. 

9  The  squirrel's  hoard,]  Hoard  is  here  employed  as  a  dissyl- 
lable.    Steevens. 


so.  i.  DREAM.  443 

Fairies,  be  gone,  and  be  all  ways  away.1 

So  doth  the  woodbine,  the  sweet  honeysuckle,2 

1  and  be  all  ways  away.]  i.  e.  disperse  yourselves,  and 

scout  out  severally,  in  your  watch,  that  danger  approach  us  from 
no  quarter.     Theobald. 

The  old  copies  read — "  be  always"  Corrected  by  Mr.  Theo- 
bald.    Malone. 

Mr.  Upton  reads : 

And  be  away — away.     Johnson. 

Mr.  Heath  would  read — "  and  be  always  V  the  way." 

Steevens. 

s  So  doth  the  woodbine,  the  sweet  honeysuckle, 
Gently  entwist, — the  female  ivy  so 

Enrings  the  barley  Jingers  of  the  elm.~\  What  does  the  wood- 
bine entwist  ?  The  honey-suckle.  But  the  woodbine  and  honey- 
suckle were,  till  now,  but  two  names  for  one  and  the  same  plant, 
llorio,  in  his  Italian  Dictionary,  interprets  Madre  Selva  by  ivood- 
bine  or  honie-suckle.  We  must  therefore  find  a  support  for  the 
woodbine  as  well  as  for  the  ivy.  Which  is  done  by  reading  the 
lines  thus : 

So  doth  the  woodbine,  the  sweet  honey-suckle, 
Gently  entwist  the  maple ;  ivy  so 
Enrings  the  barky  fingers  of  the  elm. 
The  corruption  might  happen  by  the  first  blunderer  dropping 
the  p  in  writing  the  word  maple,  which  word  thence  became 
male.    A  following  transcriber,  for  the  sake  of  a  little  sense  and 
measure,   thought  fit  to  change  this  male  mto  female  ;  and  then 
tacked  it  as  an  epithet  to  ivy.     Warburton. 

Mr.  Upton  reads : 

.So  doth  the  woodrine  the  sweet  honey  suckle, 
for  bark  of  the  wood.     Shakspeare  perhaps  only  meant,  so  the 
leaves  involve  the  flower,  using  woodbine  for  the  plant,  and  honey- 
suckle for  the  flower  ;  or  perhaps  Shakspeare  made  a  blunder. 

Johnson. 

The  thought  is   Chaucer's.     See  his   Troilus  and  Cresscide> 
v.  r236,  Lib.  Ill: 

"  And  as  about  a  tre  with  many  a  twist 
"  Bitrent  and  writhin  is  the  swete  Woodbindc, 
"  Gail  1 1  he  of  hem  in  annis  other  winde." 
What  Shakspeare  seems  to  mean,  is  this — So  the  woodbine, 
i.  e.  the  sweet  honeysuckle,  doth  gently  en/wist  the  barky  fingers 
of  the   elm,   and  so   does   the  female   ir./  curing  the  Home  fingers. 
It   is    not  unfrequeiit   in   the   poets,  as   well  as  other  writers,  to 
explain    one   word   by   another   which    i^    Utter    known.     The 


444  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S        act  iv. 

Gently  entwist, — the  female  ivy3  so 


reason  why  Shakspeare  thought  "woodbine  wanted  illustration, 
perhaps  is  this.      In  some  counties,  by  woodbine  or  woodbind 
would  have  been  generally  understood  the  ivy,  which  he  had 
occasion  to  mention  in  the  very  next  line.     In  the  following  in- 
stance from  Old  Fortunatus,  ltJOO,  woodbind  is  used  for  ivy  : 
"  And,  as  the  running  wood-bind,  spread  her  arms 
"  To  choak  thy  with'ring  boughs  in  her  embrace." 
And  Barrett  in  his  Alvearie,  or  Quadruple  Dictionary,  1580, 
enforces  the  same  distinction  that  Shakspeare  thought  it  neces- 
sary to  make : 

"  Woodbin  that  beareth  the  honey-suckle."     Steevens. 

This  passage  has  given  rise  to  various  conjectures.  It  is  certain, 
that  the  wood-bine  and  the  honey-suckle  were  sometimes  consider- 
ed as  different  plants.     In  one  of  Taylor's  Poems,  we  have — 
"  The  woodbine,  primrose,  and  the  cowslip  fine, 
"  The  honisuckle,  and  the  daffadill." 

But  I  think  Mr.  Steevens's  interpretation  the  true  one.  The 
old  writers  did  not  always  carry  the  auxiliary  verb  forward,  as 
Mr.  Capell  seems  to  suppose  by  his  alteration  of  enrings,  to  en- 
ring.  So,  Bishop  Lowth,  in  his  excellent  Introduction  to  Gram- 
mar, p.  126,  has  without  reason  corrected  a  similar  passage  in 
our  translation  of  St.  Matthew.     Farmer. 

Were  any  change  necessary,  I  should  not  scruple  to  read  the 
weedbind,  i.  e.  similax  :  a  plant  that  twists  round  every  other 
that  grows  in  its  way. 

In  a  very  ancient  translation  of  "  Macer's  Herball,  practysed 
by  Docter  Linacre,"  is  the  following  passage :  "  Caprifolium  is 
an  herbe  called  woodbynde  or  withwynde,  this  groweth  in  hedges 
or  in  woodes,  and  it  wyll  beclyp  a  tre  in  her  growynge,  as  doth 
yvye,  and  hath  white  flowers."     Steevens. 

In  Lord  Bacon's  Nat.  Hist.  Experiment  496,  it  is  observed, 
that  there  are  two  kinds  of  "  honey -suckles,  both  the  woodbine 
and  trefoil?''  i.  e.  the  first  is  a  plant  that  winds  about  trees,  and 
the  other  is  a  three-leaved  grass.  Perhaps  these  are  meant  in 
Dr.  Farmer's  quotation.  The  distinction,  however,  may  serve 
to  shew  why  Shakspeare  and  other  authors  frequently  added 
woodbine  to  honey-suckle,  when  they  mean  the  plant  and  not 
the  grass.     Tollet. 

The  interpretation  of  either  Dr.  Johnson  or  Mr.  Steevens  re- 
moves all  difficulty.  The  following  passage  in  Sicily  and  Naples, 
or  The  Fatal  Union,  1640,  in  which  the  honeysuckle  is  spoken 
of  as  the  flower,  and  the  woodbine  as  the  plant,  adds  some  sup- 
port to  Dr.  Johnson's  exposition  : 


sc.  i.  DREAM.  445 

Enrings  the  barky  fingers  of  the  elm. 
O,  how  I  love  thee !  how  I  dote  on  thee ! 

[They  sleep. 

Ojberon  advances.     Enter  Puck. 

Obe.  Welcome,  good  Robin.     See'st  thou  this 
sweet  sight  ? 
Her  dotage  now  I  do  begin  to  pity. 
For  meeting  her  of  late,  behind  the  wood, 
Seeking  sweet  savours4  for  this  hateful  fool, 
I  did  upbraid  her,  and  fall  out  with  her : 
For  she  his  hairy  temples  then  had  rounded 
With  coronet  of  fresh  and  fragrant  flowers  $ 

" as  fit  a  gift 

"  As  this  were  for  a  lord, — a  honey-suckle, 

"  The  amorous  woodbine's  offspring." 
But  Minshieu  in  v.    Woodbinde,   supposes  them  the  same : 
"  Alio  nomine  nobis  Anglis  Honysucklc  dictus."     If  Dr.  John- 
son's explanation  be  right,  there  should  be  no  point  after  xvood- 
bine,  honeysuckle,  or  enrings.     Malone. 

3  the  female  ivy  — ]  Shakspeare  calls  it  female  ivy,  be- 
cause it  always  requires  some  support,  which  is  poetically  called 
its  husband.     So  Milton  : 

" led  the  vine 

"  To  wed  her  elm :  she  spous'd,  about  him  twines 

"  Her  marriageable  arms — ." 

"  Ulmo  conjuncta  marito."      Catull. 

"  Platanusque  ccelebs 

"  Evincet  ulmos."     Hor.     Steevens. 

Though  the  ivy  here  represents  the  female,  there  is,  notwith- 
standing, an  evident  reference  in  the  words  enrings  andfngers, 
to  the  ring  of the  marriage  rite.     Henley. 

In  our  ancient  marriage  ceremony,  (or  rather,  perhaps,  con- 
tract,) the  woman  gave  the  man  a  ring,  as  well  as  received  one 
from  him.  To  this  custom  the  conduct  of  Olivia  (See  Tvcclfth- 
Night,  sc.  ult.)  bears  sufficient  testimony: 

"  A  contract  of  eternal  bond  of  love,  &c. 

"  Strengthened  by  inter  changement  of  your  rings." 

Steevens. 

4  Itoieet  savours  — ]     Thus  Roberts's  quarto  and  the  first 


H6  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S       act  m 

And  that  same  dew,  which  sometime  on  the  buds 

Was  wont  to  swell,  like  round  and  orient  pearls, 

Stood  now  within  the  pretty  flourets*  eyes,5 

Like  tears,  that  did  their  own  disgrace  bewail. 

When  I  had,  at  my  pleasure,  taunted  her, 

And  she,  in  mild  terms,  begg'd  my  patience, 

I  then  did  ask  of  her  her  changeling  child ; 

Which  straight  she  gave  me,  and  her  fairy  sent 

To  bear  him  to  my  bower  in  fairy  land. 

And  now  I  have  the  boy,  I  will  undo 

This  hateful  imperfection  of  her  eyes. 

And,  gentle  Puck,  take  this  transformed  scalp 

From  off  the  head  of  this  Athenian  swain; 

That  he  awaking  when  the  other  do,6 

May  all  to  Athens  back  again  repair ; 

And  think  no  more  of  this  night's  accidents, 

But  as  the  fierce  vexation  of  a  dream. 

But  first  I  will  release  the  fairy  queen. 

Be,  as  thou  wrast  wont  to  be ; 

[Touching  her  eyes  with  an  herb. 

See,  as  thou  wast  wont  to  see : 

folio.  Fisher's  quarto  reads— favours ;  which,  taken  in  the 
sense  of  ornaments,  such  as  are  worn  at  weddings,  may  be 
right.     Steevens. 

5  flourets'  eyes,]  The  eye  of  a  flower  is  the  technical 

term  for  its  center.     Thus  Milton,  in  his  Lycidas,  v.  139  : 

"  Throw  hither  all  your  quaint  enamel' d  eyes.''' 

Steevens. 

6  That  he  aivaJcing  token  the  other  do,~\  Such  is  the  reading  of 
the  old  copies,  and  such  was  the  phraseology  of  Shakspeare's 
age ;  though  the  modern  editors  have  departed  from  it. — So,  in 
King  Henry  IV.  P.  I :  "  — and  unbound  the  rest,  and  then 
came  in  the  other." 

Again,  in  King  Henry  IV.  P.  II :  "  For  the  other,  Sir  John, 
let  me  see,"  &c. 

So,  in  the  epistle  prefixed  to  Pierce  Pennilesse  his  Supplication 
to  the  Devil,  by  Thomas  Nashe,  4to.  1592 :  "  I  hope  they  will 
give  me  leave  to  think  there  be  fooles  of  that  art,  as  well  as  of 
all  other."     Malone. 


sc.  i.  DREAM.  447 

Dian's  bud  o'er  Cupid's  flower7 
Hath  such  force  aud  blessed  power. 
Now,  my  Titauia ;  wake  you,  my  sweet  queen. 

Tita.  My  Oberon  !  what  visions  have  I  seen ! 
Methought,  I  was  enamour'd  of  an  ass. 

Obe.  There  lies  your  love. 

Tita.  How  came  these  things  to  pass  ? 

O,  how  mine  eyes  do  loath  his  visage  now ! 

Obe.  Silence,   a   while. — Robin,  take  off  this 
head. — 
Titauia,  musick  call ;  and  strike  more  dead 
Than  common  sleep,  of  all  these  five  the  sense.8 

Tita.  Musick,  ho !  musick ;  such  as  charmeth 
sleep. 

Puck.  Now,  when  thou  wak'st,  with  thine  own 
fool's  eyes  peep. 

Obe.  Sound,  musick.  [Still  musick.']  Come,  my 
queen,  take  hands  with  me, 
And  rock  the  ground  whereon  these  sleepers  be. 


7  Dian's  bud  o'er  Cupid's  jloixer — ]  The  old  copies  read — or 
Cupid's.  Corrected  by  Dr.  Thirlby.  The  herb  now  employed 
is  styled  Dianas  bud,  because  it  is  applied  as  an  antidote  to  that 
charm  which  had  constrained  Titania  to  dote  on  Bottom  with 
"  the  soul  of  love."     Malone. 

Dian's  bud,  is  the  bud  of  the  Agnus  Castus,  or  Chaste  Tree. 
Thus,  in  "  Macers  Herball,  practysyd  by  Doctor  Lynacre, 
translated  out  of  Laten  into  Englysshe,"  &c.  bl.  1.  no  date : 
"  The  vertue  of  this  herbe  is,  that  he  wyll  kepe  man  and  woman 
chaste,"  &c.  Cupid's  f  owe  r,  is  the  Viola  tricolor,  or  Love  in 
Idleness.     Steevens. 

8  of  all  these  five  the  sense.']     The  old  copies  read — these 
fine.  ;  but  this  most  certainly  is  corrupt.     My  emendation  needs 

no  justification.  They've,  that  lay  asleep  on  the  stage  were  De- 
metrius, Lysander,  Hcrmia,  Helena,  and  Bottom. — Dr.  Thirlby 
likewise  communicated  this  very  correction.     Thkqbajld. 


448  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S        act  iv. 

Now  thou  and  I  are  new  in  amity ; 

And  will,  to-morrow  midnight,  solemnly, 

Dance  in  duke  Theseus'  house  triumphantly, 

And  bless  it  to  all  fair  posterity : 9 

There  shall  the  pairs  of  faithful  lovers  be 

Wedded,  with  Theseus,  all  in  jollity. 

Puck.  Fairy  king,  attend,  and  mark  : 
I  do  hear  the  morning  lark. 

Obe.  Then,  my  queen,  in  silence  sad, 
Trip  we  after  the  night's  shade * 


* 


Dance  in  duJce  Theseus1  house  triumphantly, 

And  bless  it  to  all  fair  posterity  :]  We  should  read : 

to  all  far  posterity. 

i.  e.  to  the  remotest  posterity.     Warburton. 

Fair  posterity  is  the  right  reading. 

In  the  concluding  song,  where  Oberon  blesses  the  nuptial  bed, 
part  of  his  benediction  is,  that  the  posterity  of  Theseus  shall  be 
fair  ; 

"  And  the  blots  of  nature's  hand 

"  Shall  not  in  their  issue  stand ; 

"  Never  mole,  hare-lip,  nor  scar, 

"  Nor  mark  prodigious,  such  as  are 

"  Despised  in  nativity, 

"  Shall  upon  their  children  be."     M.  Mason. 

to  all  fair  prosperity  :]  I  have  preferred  this,  which  is 

the  reading  of  the  first  and  best  quarto,  printed  by  Fisher,  to 
that  of  the  other  quarto  and  the  folio,  (posterity, )  induced  by 
the  following  lines  in  a  former  scene : 

" your  warrior  love 

"  To  Theseus  must  be  wedded,  and  you  come 

"  To  give  their  bed  joy  and  prosperity."     Malone. 

1   Then,  my  queen,  in  silence  sad, 

Trip  we  after  the  night's  shade  .•]  Sad  signifies  only  grave, 
sober ;  and  is  opposed  to  their  dances  and  revels,  which  were 
now  ended  at  the  singing  of  the  morning  lark.  So,  in  The 
Winter's  Tale,  Act  IV  :  "  My  father  and  the  gentlemen  are  in 
sad  talk.'"     For  grave  or  serious.     Warburton. 

A  statute  3  Henry  VII.  c.  xiv.  directs  certain  offences  com- 
mitted in  the  king's  palace,  to  be  tried  by  twelve  sad  men  of  the 
king's  houshold.     Blackstone. 


sc.  i.  DREAM.  449 

We  the  globe  can  compass  soon, 
Swifter  than  the  wand'ring  moon. 

Tit  a.  Come,  my  lord  ;  and  in  our  flight, 
Tell  me  how  it  came  this  night, 
That  I  sleeping  here  was  found, 
With  these  mortals,  on  the  ground.  \_Exennt. 

\_Horns  sound  within. 

Enter  Theseus,  Hippolyta,  Egeus,  and  train. 

The.  Go,  one  of  you,  find  out  the  forester; — 
For  now  our  observation  is  perform'd  :2 
And  since  we  have  the  vaward  of  the  day,3 
My  love  shall  hear  the  musick  of  my  hounds. — 

8  our  observation  is  performed  .•]     The  honours  due  to 

the  morning  of  May.  I  know  not  why  Shakspeare  calls  this  play 
A  Midsummer-Night' s  Dream,  when  he  so  carefully  informs  us 
that  it  happened  on  the  night  preceding  May  day.     Johnson. 

The  title  of  this  play  seems  no  more  intended,  to  denote  the 
precise  time  of  the  action,  than  that  of  The  Winter's  Tale ; 
which  we  find,  was  at  the  season  of  sheep-shearing.     Farmer. 

The  same  phrase  has  been  used  in  a  former  scene : 
"  To  do  observance  to  a  morn  of  May." 

I  imagine  that  the  title  of  this  play  was  suggested  by  the  time 
it  was  first  introduced  on  the  stage,  which  was  probably  at  Mid- 
summer. "  A  Dream  for  the  entertainment  of  a  Midsummer- 
night."  Twelfth- Sight  and  The  Winter  s  Tale  had  probably 
their  titles  from  a  similar  circumstance.     Ma  lone. 

In  Twelfth-Night,  Act  III.  sc.  iv.  Olivia  observes  of  Malvo- 
lio's  Beeming  frenzy,  that  it  "  is  a  very  M\  xer  madness." 

That  time  of  the  year  we  may  therefore  suppose  was  anciently 
thought  productive  of  mental  vagaries  resembling  the  scheme  of 
Shakspeare's  play.  To  this  circumstance  it  might  have  owed  its 
title.     Steevens. 

■  the  vaward  of  the  day.~\    Vaiuard  is  compounded  of 

van  and  toard,  the  forepart.  Jn  Knolles's  History  of  the  Turks, 
the  word  vayvod  is  used  in  the  same  sense.  Edinburgh  Maga- 
zine, for  Nov.  i  ;s(j.    !  ns. 

VOL.   IV.  G 


450  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S        act  if. 

Uncouple  in  the  western  valley  ;  go : — 
Despatch,  I  say,  and  find  the  forester. — 
We  will,  fair  queen,  up  to  the  mountain's  top, 
And  mark  the  musical  confusion 
Of  hounds  and  echo  in  conjunction. 

Hip.  I  was  with  Hercules,  and  Cadmus,  once, 
When  in  a  wood  of  Crete  they  bay'd  the  bear4 
With  hounds  of  Sparta :  never  did  I  hear 
Such  gallant  chiding;6  for,  besides  the  groves, 

■ 

*  they  bay'd  the  bear — ]  Thus  all  the  old  copies.     And 

thus  in  Chaucer's  Knightes  Tale,  v.  2020,  Tyrwhitt's  edit : 
"  The  hunte  y strangled  with  the  wild  beres." 

Bearbaiting  was  likewise  once  a  diversion  esteemed  proper  for 
royal  personages,  even  of  the  softer  sex.  While  the  princess 
Elizabeth  remained  at  Hatfield  House,  under  the  custody  of  Sir 
Thomas  Pope,  she  was  visited  by  Queen  Mary.  The  next 
morning  they  were  entertained  with  a  grand  exhibition  of  bear- 
baiting,  with  which  their  highnesses  xvere  right  well  content.  See 
Life  of  Sir  Thomas  Pope,  cited  by  Warton  in  his  History  of 
English  Poetry,  Vol.  II.  p.  391.     Stf.evens. 

In  The  Winter's  Tale  Antigonus  is  destroyed  by  a  bear,  who 
is  chaced  by  hunters.     See  also  our  poet's  Venus  and  Adonis  : 
"  For  now  she  hears  it  is  no  gentle  chace, 
"  But  the  blunt  boar,  rough  bear,  or  lion  proud." 

Ma  LONE. 

Holinshed,  with  whose  histories  our  poet  was  well  acquainted, 
says,  "  the  beare  is  a  beast  commonlie  hunted  in  the  East  coun- 
tries See  Vol.  I.  p.  206 ;  and  m  p.  226,  he  says,  "  Alexander 
at  vacant  time  hunted  the  tiger,  the  pard,  the  bore,  and  the 
beare."  Pliny,  Plutarch,  &c.  mention  bear-hunting.  Turber- 
ville,  in  his  Book  of  Hunting,  has  two  chapters  on  hunting  the 
hear.  As  the  persons  mentioned  by  the  poet  are  foreigners  of 
the  heroic  strain,  he  might  perhaps  think  it  nobler  sport  for  them 
to  hunt  the  bear  than  the  boar.  Shakspeare  must  have  read  the 
Knight's  Tale  in  Chaucer,  wherein  are  mentioned  Theseus's 
"  white  alandes  [grey-hounds]  to  huntin  at  the  lyon,  or  the  wild 
here"     Tollet. 

i  such  gallant  chiding ;]  Chiding  in  this  instance  means. 

only  sound.     So,  in  King  Henry  VIII : 

"  As  doth  a  rock  against  the  chiding  flood." 


sc.  i.  DREAM.  451 

The  skies,  the  fountains,6  every  region  near 
Seem'd  all  one  mutual  crv:7  I  never  heard 

tr 

So  musical  a  discord,  such  sweet  thunder. 

The.  My  hounds  are  bred8  out  of  the  Spartan 
kind, 
So  flew'd,9  so  sanded  ; x  and  their  heads  are  hung 


Again,  in  Humour  out  of  Breath,  a  comedy,  by  John  Day, 
1608: 

" I  take  great  pride 

"  To  hear  soft  musick,  and  thy  shrill  voice  chide" 
Again,  in  the  22d  chapter  of  Drayton's  Polyolbion  : 

" drums  and  trumpets  chide. — " 

This  use  of  the  word  was  not  obsolete  in  the  age  of  Milton, 
who  says,  in  his  Smectymnuus :  "  I  may  one  day  hope  to  have 
ye  again  in  a  still  time,  when  there  shall  be  no  eluding.  Not  in 
these  noises."     See  edit.  1753,  p.  118.     Steevens. 

6  The  skies,  the  fountains,]  Instead  of  fountains,  Mr.  Heath 
would  read — mountains.  The  change  had  been  proposed  to 
Mr.  Theobald,  who  has  well  supported  the  old  reading,  by  ob- 
serving that  Virgil  and  other  poets  have  made  rivers,  lakes,  &c. 
responsive  to  sound : 

"  Turn  vero  exoritur  clamor,  ripa?que  hicusque 

"  Responsant  circa,  et  ccelum  tonat  omne  tumultu." 

Malone. 

7  Seemed  all  one  mutual  cry  „•]  The  old  copies  concur  in 
reading — seem  ;  but,  as  Hippolyta  is  speaking  of  time  past,  I 
have  adopted  Mr.  Rowe's  correction.     Steevens. 

8  My  hounds  are  bred  &c]  This  passage  has  been  imitated  by 
Lee,  in  his  Theodosius  :' 

"  Then  through  the  woods  we  chae'd  the  foaming  boar, 

"  With  hounds  that  opened  like  Thessalian  bulls ; 

"  Like  tigers  flew'd,  and  sanded  as  the  shore, 

"  With  ears  and  chests  that  dash'd  the  morning  dew." 

Malone. 

8  So  Jlciv*d,]  Sir  T.  Hanmer  justly  remarks,  that  fexvs  are 
the  large  chaps  of  a  deep-mouth'd  hound.  Arthur  Golding  uses 
this  word  in  his  translation  of  Ovid's  Metainorphosis,  finished 
1567,  a  book  with  which  Shakspeare  appears  to  have  been  well 
acquainted.  The  poet  is  describing  Actaxm's  hounds,  13.  III. 
p.  34,  b.  1575.  Two  of  them,  like  our  author's,  were  of 
Spartan  kind;  bred  from  a  Spartan  bitch  and  a  Cretan  dog: 

G  G  2 


452  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S        act  ir. 

With  ears  that  sweep  away  the  morning  dew  ;2 
Crook-knee'd,  and  dew-lap'd  like  Thessalian  bulls; 
Slow  in  pursuit,  but  match'd  in  mouth  like  bells, 
Each  under  each.     A  cry  more  tuneable 
Was  never  holla'd  to,  nor  cheer'd  with  horn, 
In  Crete,  in  Sparta,  nor  in  Thessaly : 
Judge,  when  you  hear. — But,  soft ;  what  nymphs 
are  these  ? 

Ege.  My  lord,  this  is  my  daughter  here  asleep ; 
And  this,  Lysander ;  this  Demetrius  is  ; 
This  Helena,  old  Nedar's  Helena : 
I  wonder  of3  their  being  here  together. 

The.  No  doubt,  they  rose  up  early,  to  observe 


" with  other  twaine,  that  had  a  syre  of  Crete, 

"  And  dam  of  Sparta :  th'one  of  them  called  Jollyboy, 

a  great 
"  And  large-Jlew'd  hound." 
Shakspeare mentions  Cretan  hounds  (with  Spartan)  afterwards 
in  this  speech  of  Theseus.     And  Ovid's  translator,  Golding,  in 
the  same  description,  has  them  both  in  one  verse,  ibid.  p.  34,  a : 
"  This  latter  was  a  hounde  of  Crete,  the  other  was  of 
Spart."     T.  Warton. 

1  So  sanded ;]  So  marked  with  small  spots.     Johnson. 

Sanded  means  of  a  sandy  colour,  which  is  one  of  the  true  de- 
notements of  a  blood-hound.     Steevens. 

s  With  ears  that  sweep  away  the  morning  dew;']  So,  in 
Hey  wood's  Brazen  Age,  1613  : 

" the  fierce  Thessalian  hounds, 

"  With  their  flag  ears,  ready  to  sweep  the  dew 
<c  From  their  moist  breasts."     Steevens. 

3  I  wonder  of — ]  The  modern  editors  read — I  wonder  at  &c. 
But  changes  of  this  kind  ought,  I  conceive,  to  be  made  with 
great  caution ;  for  the  writings  of  our  author's  contemporaries 
furnish  us  with  abundant  proofs  that  many  modes  of  speech, 
which  now  seem  harsh  to  our  ears,  were  justified  by  the  phra- 
seology of  former  times.     In  All's  well  that  ends  well,  we  have : 

" thou  dislik'st 

"  Of  virtue,  for  the  name."    Malone. 


SC.  I.  DREAM.  453 

The  rite  of  May  ;4  and,  hearing  our  intent, 
Came  here  in  grace  of  our  solemnity. — 
But,  speak,  Egeus ;  is  not  this  the  day 
That  Hermia  should  give  answer  of  her  choice  ? 

Ege.  It  is,  my  lord. 

The.  Go,bid  the  huntsmen  wake  them  with  their 
horns. 


Horns,  and  shout  "within.     Demetrius,  Lysander, 
Hermia,  and  Helena,  wake  and  start  up. 

The.  Good-morrow,  friends.   Saint  Valentine  is 
past;5 
Begin  these  wood-birds  but  to  couple  now  ? 

Lys.  Pardon,  my  lord. 

\_He  and  the  rest  kneel  to  Theseus. 

The.  I  pray  you  all,  stand  up. 

I  know,  you  are  two  rival  enemies ; 
How  comes  this  gentle  concord  in  the  world, 


*  they  rose  up  early,  to  observe 

The  rite  of  May  :]  The  rite  of  this  month  was  once  so 
universally  observed,  that  even  authors  thought  their  works  would 
obtain  a  more  favourable  reception,  if  published  on  May-Day. 
The  following  is  a  title-page  to  a  metrical  performance  by  a  once 
celebrate!  poet,  Thomas  1  h arch yard: 
"  Come  bring  in  Maye  with  me, 

"  My  Mage  is  fresh  and  gre  me; 
"  A  subiectes  harte,  an  humble  mind, 
"  To  serue  a  mayden  Queene." 
"  A  discourse  of  Rebellion,  drawne  forth  for  to  warne  the 
wanton  wittes  how  to  kepe  their  h  ads  on  their  shoulders." 

"  Imprinted  at  London,  in   11  teBtreat  by   William  Griffith,       L 
Anno  Domini  1570.     Theirs*  of  Maye.*'     Stesvens. 

3  Saini  Valentine  is  past ;]  Alluding  to  the  old  saying, 

that  birds  begin  to  couple  on  St.  Valentine's  day.     Steewe NS. 


454  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S        act  ir. 

That  hatred  is  so  far  from  jealousy, 
To  sleep  by  hate,  and  fear  no  enmity  ? 

Lys.  My  lord,  I  shall  reply  amazedly, 
Half  'sleep,  half  waking :  But  as  yet,  I  swear, 
I  cannot  truly  say  how  I  came  here : 
But,  as  I  think,  (for  truly  would  I  speak,— 
And  now  I  do  bethink  me,  so  it  is  ;) 
I  came  with  Hermia  hither  :  our  intent 
Was,  to  be  gone  from  Athens,  where  we  might  be 
Without  the  peril  of  the  Athenian  law. 

Ege.    Enough,   enough,   my   lord;    you   have 
enough : 
I  beg  the  law,  the  law,  upon  his  head. — 
They  would  have  stol'n  away,  they  would,  Deme- 
trius, 
Thereby  to  have  defeated  you  and  me  : 
You,  of  your  wife  ;  and  me,  of  my  consent ; 
Of  my  consent  that  she  should  be  your  wife. 

Dem.  My  lord,  fair  Helen  told  me  of  their 
stealth, 
Of  this  their  purpose  hither,  to  this  wood  ; 
And  I  in  fury  hither  follow'd  them  ; 
Fair  Helena  in  fancy  following  me.6 

6  Fair  Helena  in  fancy  following  me.~\    Fancy  is  here  taken 
for  love  or  affection,  and  is  opposed  to  fury,  as  before : 
"  Sighs  and  tears,  poor  Fancy's  followers." 

Some  now  call  that  which  a  man  takes  particular  delight  in, 
his  fancy.  Flower fancier,  for  a  florist,  and  bird  fancier,  for  a 
lover  and  feeder  of  birds,  are  colloquial  words.     Johnson. 

So,  in  Barnaby  Googe's  Cupido  Conquered,  15(53  : 
"  The  chyefe  of  them  was  Ismenis, 

"  Whom  best  Diana  lov'd, 
"  And  next  in  place  sat  Hyale 
"  Whom  Fancye  never  mov'd." 
Again,  in  Hymen's  Triumph,  a  Masque,  by  Daniel,  1023  : 
"  With  all  persuasions  sought  to  win  her  mind 
"  To  J amy  him." 


sc.  r.  DREAM.  455 

But,  my  good  lord,  I  wot  not  by  what  power, 
(But  by  some  power  it  is,)  my  love  to  Hermia, 
Melted  as  doth  the  snow,7  seems  to  me  now 
As  the  remembrance  of  an  idle  gawd,8 
Which  in  my  childhood  I  did  dote  upon : 
And  all  the  faith,  the  virtue  of  my  heart, 
The  object,  and  the  pleasure  of  mine  eye, 
Is  only  Helena.     To  her,  my  lord, 
Was  I  betroth'd  ere  I  saw  Hermia:9 
But,  like  in  sickness,1  did  I  loath  this  food: 
But,  as  in  health,  come  to  my  natural  taste, 
Now  do  I  wish  it,  love  it,  long  for  it, 
And  will  for  evermore  be  true  to  it. 

The.  Fair  lovers,  you  are  fortunately  met : 
Of  this  discourse  we  more  will  hear  anon. — 
Egeus,  I  will  overbear  your  will ; 
For  in  the  temple,  by  and  by  with  us, 
These  couples  shall  eternally  be  knit. 
And,  for  the  morning  now  is  something  worn, 
Our  purpos'd  hunting  shall  be  set  aside. — 
Away,  with  us,  to  Athens :  Three  and  three, 


Again  : 

"  Do  not  enforce  nje  to  accept  a  man 
"  I  cannot  /rtwcy."     Steevens. 

7  as  doth  the  snoiv,]  The  word  doth,  which  seems  to  have 

been  inadvertently  omitted,  was  supplied  by  Mr.  Capel.  The 
emendation  here  made  is  confirmed  by  a  passage  in  K.  Henry  V; 

" as  doth  the  melted  snow 

"  Upon  the  vailies."     Malone. 

*  an  idle  gawd,]  See  note  on  this  word,  p.  320. 

Steevens. 

9  ere  I  saw  Hermia  .•]  The  old  copies  read — ere  I  see — . 

Steevens 

1  like  in  sickness,']  So,  in  the  next  line — "  as  in  health — ." 

The  old  copies  erroneously  read — "  like  a  sickness."  I  owe  the 
present  correction  to  Dr.  Fanner,     Steevens. 


456  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S        act  if. 

We'll  hold  a  feast  in  great  solemnity. — 
Come,  Hippolyta.2 

[Exeunt  Theseus,  Hippolyta,  Egeus, 
and  train. 

Dem.  These  things  seem  small,  and  imdistin- 
guishable, 
Like  far-off  mountains  turned  into  clouds. 

Her.  Methinks,  I  see  these  things  with  parted 
eye, 
When  every  thing  seems  double. 

Hel.  So  methinks : 

And  I  have  found  Demetrius  like  a  jewel, 
Mine  own,  and  not  mine  own.3 

*  Come^  Hippolyta."]  I  suppose,  for  the  sake  of  measure,  we 
should  read — "  Come  my  Hippolyta."     Steevens. 

3  And  I  have  found  Demetrius  like  a  jewel, 
Mine  own,  and  not  mine  own.]  Hermia  had  observed  that 
things  appeared  double  to  her.  .  Helena  replies,  so  methinks ; 
and  then  subjoins,  that  Demetrius  was  like  &  jewel,  her  own  and 
not  her  own.  He  is  here,  then,  compared  to  something  which 
had  the  property  of  appearing  to  be  one  thing  when  it  was  an- 
other. Not  the  property  sure  of  a  jewel ;  or,  if  you  will,  of 
none  but  a  false  one.     We  should  read  : 

And  I  have  found  Demetrius  like  a  gemell, 
Mine  own,  and  not  mine  own. 

From  Gemellus,  a  twin.  For  Demetrius  had  that  night  acted 
two  such  different  parts,  that  she  could  hardly  think  them  both 
played  by  one  and  the  same  Demetrius  ;  but  that  there  were  twin 
Demetriuses  like  the  two  Sosias  in  the  farce.  From  Gemellus 
comes  the  French,  Gemeau  or  Jumeau,  and  in  the  feminine, 
Gemelle  or  Jumelle :  So,  in  Macon's  translation  of  The  Deca- 
meron ojBcrxace  :  "  II  avoit  trois  filles  plus  agees  que  les  masles, 
des  quelles  les  deux  qui  estoient  jumelles  avoient  quinze  ans." 
iixatrieme  Jour.  Nov.  3.     Warburton. 

This  emendation  is  ingenious  enough  to  deserve  to  be  true. 

Johnson. 

Dr.  Warburton  has  been  accused  of  coining  the  word,  gemell : 
but  Drayton  has  it  in  the  preface  to  his  Baron's  Wars :  "  The 


ea  i.  DREAM.  437 

Dem.  It  seems  to  me,4 


quadrin  doth  never  double;  or  to  use  a  word  of  heraldrie,  never 
bringeth  forth  gemels."     Farmer. 

Again : 

" unless  they  had  been  all  gemels  or  couplets.'' 

Steevens. 

Helena,  I  think,  means  to  say,  that  having  found  Demetrius 
unexpectedly,  she  considered  her  property  in  him  as  insecure  as 
that  which  a  person  has  in  a  jewel  that  he  has  found  by  accident ; 
which  he  knows  not  whether  he  shall  retain,  and  which  there- 
fore may  properly  enough  be  called  his  own  and  not  his  own. 
She  does  not  say,  as  Dr.  Warburton  has  represented,  that  De- 
metrius was  like  a  jewel,  but  that  she  had  found  him,  like  a 
jewel,  &C. 

A  kindred  thought  occurs  in  Antony  and  Cleopatra: 

" by  starts 

"  His  fretted  fortunes  give  him  hope  and  fear 

"  Of  what  he  has,  and  has  not." 
The  same  kind  of  expression  is  found  also  in  The  Merchant  of 
Venice: 

"  Where  ev'ry  something,  being  blent  together, 

"  Turns  to  a  wild  of  nothing,  save  of  joy, 

"  Exprest,  and  not  exprtist*"    Malone. 

See,  also,  Mr.  Heath's  Revisal,  p.  57.     Reed. 

*  It  seems  to  me,')  Thus  the  folio.  The  quartos  begin  this 
speech  as  follows : 

Are  you  sure 

That  we  arc  awake? 
I  had  once  injudiciously  restored  these  words  ;  but  they  add 
no  weight  to  the  sense  of  the  passage,  and  create  such  a  defect  in 
the  measure  as  is  best  remedied  by  their  omission.     Steevens. 

Are  you  sure 

That  we  are  awake  f]  Sure  is  here  used  as  a  dissyllable:  so 
sire,  fire,  /.our,  &c.  The  word  now  [That  we  are  now  awake?] 
seems  to  be  wanting,  to  complete  the  metre  of  the  next  line. 

Malone. 

I  cannot  accede  to  a  belief  that  sure  was  ever  employed  as  a 
dissyllable,  much  less  at  the  end  of  a  verse.  Fire  (anciently 
spelt  //,'/-)  wadhour  (anciently  spelt  howcr)  might  be  dissy'labi- 
calh  used,  because  the  duplicate  vowels  in  each  of  them  were 
readily  separated  in  pronunciation. 


458  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S        act  m 

That  yet  we  sleep,  we  dream. — Do  not  you  think, 
The  duke  was  here,  and  bid  us  follow  him  ? 

Her.  Yea ;  and  my  father. 

Hel.  And  Hippolyta. 

Lys.  And  he  did  bid  us  follow  to  the  temple. 

Dem.  Why  then,  we  are  awake :  let's  follow 
him ; 
And,  by  the  way,  let  us  recount  our  dreams. 

\_Exeunt. 

As  they  go  out,  Bottom  awakes. 

Bot.  When  my  cue  comes,  call  me,  and  I  will 

answer: — my  next  is,  Most  fair  Pyramns. Hey, 

ho ! — Peter  Quince !  Flute,  the  bellows-mender ! 
Snout,  the  tinker !  Starveling!  God's  my  life!  stolen 
hence,  and  left  me  asleep  !  I  have  had  a  most  rare 
vision.  I  have  had  a  dream, — past  the  wit  of  man 
to  say  what  dream  it  was :  Man  is  but  an  ass,  if 
he  go  about  to  expound  this  dream.  Methought 
I  was — there  is  no  man  can  tell  what.  Methought 
I  was,  and  methought  I  had, — But  man  is  but  a 
patched  fool,5  if  he  will  offer  to  say  what  methought 
I  had.     The  eye  of  man6  hath  not  heard,  the  ear 

Our  author  might  have  written : 
"  But  are  you  sure 
"  That  we  are  now  awake  ? — " 
Having  exhibited  this  passage,  however,  only  in  my  note  on 
the  hemistich  that  follows  it,  I  have  little  solicitude  for  its  reform- 
ation.    Steevens. 

9 patched  jbol,~]  That  is,  a  fool  in  a  particolour'd  coat. 

Johnson. 

6  The  eye  of  man  &c]     He  is    here    blundering  upon    the 

scriptural  passage  of  "  Eye  hath  not  seen,  nor  ear  heard,  neither 

have  entered  into  the  heart  of  man  the  things,"  &c.    1  Cor.  ii.  9. 

Douce. 


sc.  i.  DREAM.  459 

of  man  hath  not  seen ;  man's  hand  is  not  able  to 
taste,  his  tongue  to  conceive, nor  his  heart  to  report, 
what  my  dream  was.  I  will  get  Peter  Quince  to 
write  a  ballad  of  this  dream :  it  shall  be  called  Bot- 
tom's Dream,  because  it  hath  no  bottom ;  and  I  will 
sing  it  in  the  latter  end  of  a  play,  before  the  duke : 
Peradventure,  to  make  it  the  more  gracious,  I  shall 
sing  it  at  her  death.7  [Exit. 

7 /  shall  sing  it  at  her  death.']    At  whose  death  ?    In 

Bottom's  speech  there  is  no  mention  of  any  she-creature,  to 
whom  this  relative  can  be  coupled.  I  make  not  the  least  scruple 
but  Bottom,  for  the  sake  of  a  jest,  and  to  render  his  voluntary, 
as  we  may  call  it,  the  more  gracious  and  extraordinary,  said : — 
I  shall  sing  it  after  death.  He,  as  Pyramus,  is  kill'd  upon  the 
scene ;  and  so  might  promise  to  rise  again  at  the  conclusion  of 
the  interlude,  and  give  the  Duke  his  dream  by  way  of  song. 
The  source  of  the  corruption  of  the  text  is  very  obvious.  The 
f  in  after  being  sunk  by  the  vulgar  pronunciation,  the  copyist 
might  write  it  from  the  sound, — a'ter;  which  the  wise  editors 
not  understanding,  concluded,  two  words  were  erroneously  got 
together ;  so,  splitting  them,  and  clapping  in  an  h}  produced  the 
present  reading — at  her.     Theobald. 

Theobald  might  have  quoted  the  following  passage  in  The 
Tempest  in  support  of  his  emendation.  "  This  is  a  very  scurvy 
tune  (says  Trinculo,)  for  a  man  to  sing  at  his  funeral." — Yet  I 
believe  the  text  is  right.     Malone. 

at  her  death.]  He  may  mean  the  death  ofThisbe,  which 

his  head  might  be  at  present  full  of ;  and  yet  I  cannot  but  prefer 
the  happy  conjecture  of  Mr.  Theobald  to  my  own  attempt  at  ex-i 
planation.     Steevens. 


460  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S        activ. 

SCENE  II. 

Athens.     A  Room  in  Quince's  House. 
Enter  Quince,  Flute,  Snout,  and  Starveling. 

Quin.  Have  you  sent  to  Bottom's  house  ?  is  he 
come  home  yet  ? 

Star.  He  cannot  be  heard  of.     Out  of  doubt, 
he  is  transported. 

Flu.  If  he  come  not,  then  the  play  is  marred; 
It  goes  not  forward,  doth  it  ? 

Quin.  It  is  not  possible :  you  have  not  a  man 
in  all  Athens,  able  to  discharge  Pyramus,  but  he. 

Flu.  No  ;  he  hath  simply  the  best  wit  of  any 
handycraft  man  in  Athens. 

Quin.  Yea,  and  the  best  person  too  :  and  he  is 
a  very  paramour,  for  a  sweet  voice. 

Flu.  You  must  say,  paragon :  a  paramour  is, 
God  bless  us,  a  thing  of  nought.8 


8 a  thing  of  nought.']    This  Mr.  Theobald  changes  with 

great  pomp  to  a  thing  of  naught ;  i.  e.  a  good  for  nothing  thing. 

Johnson. 


A  thing  of  nought  may  be  the  true  reading.     So,  in  Hamlet: 

"  Ham.  The  king  is  a  thing 

"  Guil.  A  thing,  my  lord  ? 
"  Ham.  Of  nothing." 
See  the  note  on  this  passage. 

Paramour  being  a  word  which  Flute  did  not  understand,  he 
may  design  to  say  that  it  had  no  meaning,  i.  e.  was  a  thing  of 
nought. 

Mr.  M.  Mason,  however,  is  of  a  different  opinion.  "  The 
ejaculation,  (says  he,)  God  bless  us !  proves  that  Flute  imagined 
he  was  saying  a  naughty  word."     Steevens. 


sen.  DREAM.  461 


Enter  Snug. 

Snug.  Masters,  the  duke  is  coming  from  the 
temple,  and  there  is  two  or  three  lords  and  ladies 
more  married :  if  our  sport  had  gone  forward,  we 
had  all  been  made  men.9 

Flu.  O  sweet  bully  Bottom  !  Thus  hath  he  lost 
sixpence  a-day  during  his  life ;  he  could  not  have 
'scaped  sixpence  a-day:  an  the  duke  had  not  given 
him  sixpence  a-day  for  playing  Pyramus,  I'll  be 
hanged;  he  would  have  deserved  it:  sixpence  a-day, 
in  Pyramus,  or  nothing.1 

Enter  Bottom. 

Bot.  Where  are  these  lads  ?  where  are  these 
hearts  ? 

Quin.  Bottom  ! — O  most  courageous  day  !  O 
most  happy  hour ! 

Bot.  Masters,  I  am  to  discourse  wonders :  but 
ask  me  not  what ;  for,  if  I  tell  you,  I  am  no  true 
Athenian.  I  will  tell  you  every  thing,  right  as  it 
fell  out. 

Qujy.  Let  us  hear,  sweet  Bottom. 

— 

Bot.  Not  a  word  of  me.  All  that  I  will  tell  you, 

9 made   men.~\     In  the  same  sense  as  in  The  Tempest, 

«  — any  monster  in  England  makes  a  man."     Johnson. 

1 sixpence  a   day,  in  Pyramus,  or  nothing.']   Shakspeare 

has  already  ridiculed  the  title-page  of  Cambyses,  by  Thomas 
Preston  ;  and  here  he  seems  to  allude  to  him,  or  some  other  per- 
son who,  like  him,  had  been  pensioned  for  his  dramatic  abilities. 
Preston  acted  a  pari  in  John  Ritwise's  play  of  Dido  before  Queen 
Elizabeth  at  Cambridge,  in  1504;  and  the  Queen  was  so  well 
pleased,  that  she  bestowed  on  him  a  pension  of  twenty  pounds  a 
year,  which  is  little  more  than  a  sliilling  a  day.     Steevens. 


462  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S         activ. 

is,  that  the  duke  hath  dined  :  Get  your  apparel  to- 
gether ;  good  strings  to  your  beards,2  new  ribbons 
to  your  pumps ;  meet  presently  at  the  palace ;  every 
man  look  o'er  his  part ;  for,  the  short  and  the  long 
is,  our  play  is  preferred.3  In  any  case,  let  Thisby 
have  clean  linen ;  and  let  not  him,  that  plays  the 
lion,  pare  his  nails,  for  they  shall  hang  out  for  the 
lion's  claws.  And,  most  dear  actors,  eat  no  onions, 
nor  garlick,  for  we  are  to  utter  sweet  breath ;  and  I 
do  not  doubt,  but  to  hear  them  say,  it  is  a  sweet 
comedy.     No  more  words  ;  away  j  go,  away. 

[Exeunt. 

2 good  strings  to  your  beards,"]  i.  e.  to  prevent  the  false 

beards,  which  they  were  to  wear,  from  falling  off.     M  alone. 

As  no  false  beard  could  be  worn,  without  a  ligature  to  fasten 
it  on,  (and  a  slender  one  would  suffice,)  the  caution  of  Bottom, 
considered  in  such  a  light,  is  superfluous.  I  suspect  therefore 
that  the  good  strings  recommended  by  him  were  ornamental,  or 
employed  to  give  an  air  of  novelty  to  the  countenances  of  the 
performers.  Thus,  in  Measure  for  Measure,  (where  the  natural 
beard  is  unquestionably  spoken  of,)  the  Duke,  intent  on  disfigur- 
ing the  head  of  Ragozine,  says:  "  O,  death's  a  great  disguiser  ; 
and  you  may  add  to  it.     Shave  the  head,  and  tie  the  beard." 

Steevens. 

3 our  play  is  preferred.]  This  word  is  not  to  be  under- 
stood in  its  most  common  acceptation  here,  as  if  their  play  was 
chosen  in  preference  to  the  others ;  (for  that  appears  afterwards 
not  to  be  the  fact ; )  but  means,  that  it  was  given  in  among  others 
for  the  duke's  option.  So,  in  Julius  Caesar,  Decius  says : 
"  Where  is  Metellus  Cimber  ?  let  him  go 
"  And  presently  prefer  his  suit  to  Caesar."     Theorald. 


act  v.  DREAM.  463 

ACT  V.     SCENE  I. 

The  same.     An  Apartment  in  the  Palace  of  Theseus. 

Enter  Theseus,  Hippolyta,  Philostrate, 
Lords,  and  Attendants. 

Hip.  'Tis  strange,  my  Theseus,  that  these  lovers 
speak  of. 

The.  More  strange  than  true.  Inever  maybelieve 
These  antique  fables,  nor  these  fairy  toys. 
Lovers,  and  madmen,  have  such  beething  brains,4 
Such  shaping  fantasies,  that  apprehend 
More  than  cool  reason  ever  comprehends. 
The  lunatick,  the  lover,  and  the  poet,5 
Are  of  imagination  all  compact:6 
One  sees  more  devils  than  vast  hell  can  hold ; 
That  is,  the  madman  :  the  lover,  all  as  frantick,7 


* such  seething  brains,"]  So,  in  The  Tempest : 

" thy  brains, 

"  Now  useless,  boil'd  within  thy  scull."     Steevens. 
We  meet  with  the  same  expression  in  The  Winter's  Tale; 
"  Would  any  but  these  boil'd  brains  of  three  and  twenty  hunt 
this  weather  ?"     Ma  lone. 

s  The  lunatick,  the  lover,  and  the  poct,~\  An  ingenious  modern 
writer  supposes  that  our  author  had  here  in  contemplation  Orestes, 
Mark  Antony,  and  himself;  but  I  do  not  recollect  any  passage 
in  his  works  that  shows  him  to  have  been  acquainted  with  the 
story  of  Agamemnon's  son, — scelerum  Jttriis  agitatui  Orestes: 
and  indeed,  if  even  such  were  found,  the  supposed  allusion  would 
Still  remain  very  problematical.     Malone. 

6  Are  of  imagination  all  compact  .]  i.  e.  are  made  of  mere 
imagination.     So,  in  As  you  like  it : 

"  If  he,  compact  of  jars,  grow  musical.'*     Steevens. 

7  That  is,  the  madman :  the  lover,  all  as  Jrantick,']    Such  is 


46  i-  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S         act  r. 

Sees  Helen's  beauty  in  a  brow  of  Egypt :  * 

The  poet's  eye,  in  a  fine  frenzy  rolling,9 

Doth  glance  from  heaven  to  earth,  from  earth  to 

heaven ; 
And,  as  imagination  bodies  forth 
The  forms  of  things  unknown,  the  poet's  pen 
Turns  them  to  shapes,  and  gives  to  airy  nothing 
A  local  habitation,  and  a  name. 
Such  tricks  hath  strong  imagination  ; 
That,  if  it  would  but  apprehend  some  joy, 
It  comprehends  some  bringer  of  that  joy; 
Or,  in  the  night,  imagining  some  fear, 
How  easy  is  a  bush  suppos'd  a  bear  ? 

Hip.  But  all  the  story  of  the  night  told  over, 
And  all  their  minds  transfigur'd.  so  together, 
More  witnesseth  than  fancy's  images, 
And  grows  to  something  of  great  constancy;1 
But,  howsoever,  strange,  and  admirable. 

the  reading  of  all  the  old  copies ;  instead  of  which,  the  modern 
editors  have  given  us : 

"  The  madman :  tvhile  the  lover,"  &c.     Steevens. 

8  Sees  Helen's  beauty  in  a  brow  of  Egypt :]  By  "  a  brow  of 
Egypt,"  Shakspeare  means  no  more  than  the  broiv  of  a  gipsy.  So 
much  for  some  ingenious  modern's  ideal  Cleopatra.     See  note  5. 

Steevens. 

9 in  a  fine  frenzy  rolling^    This   seems  to  have  been 

imitated  by  Drayton  in  his  Epistle  to  J.  Reynolds  on  Poets  and 
Poetry :  describing  Marlowe  he  says : 

" that  fine  madness  still  he  did  retain, 

"  Which  rightly  should  possess  a.  poet's  brain." 

Malone. 

1 constancy y]    Consistency,  stability,  certainty. 

Johnson. 


sc.  I.  DREAM.  465 


Enter  Lysander,  Demetrius,  Hermia,  and 

Helena. 

The.  Here  come  the  lovers,  full  of  joy  and 
mirth. — 
Joy,  gentle  friends !  joy,  and  fresh  days  of  love, 
Accompany  your  hearts ! 

Lys.  More  than  to  us 

Wait  on2  your  royal  walks,  your  board,  your  bed ! 

The.  Come  now;  what  masks,  what  dances  shall 
we  have, 
To  wear  away  this  long  age  of  three  hours, 
Between  our  after-supper,  and  bed-time  ? 
AVhcre  is  our  usual  manager  of  mirth  ? 
What  revels  are  in  hand  ?  Is  there  no  play, 
To  ease  the  anguish  of  a  torturing  hour? 
Call  Philostrate.3 

Philost.  Here,  mighty  Theseus. 

The.  Say,  what  abridgment4  have  you  for  this 
evening  ? 

*  Wait  on  — ]  The  old  copies  have — wait  in.  Corrected  by 
Mr.  Roue.     Ma  lone. 

3  Call  Philostrate.]  In  the  folio,  10C3,  it  is,  Call  Egeus,  and 
all  the  speeches  afterward:-;  spoken  by  Philostrate,  except  that 
beginning,  "  No,  my  noble  lord,''  &c.  are  there  given  to  that 
character.  But  the  modern  editions,  from  the  quarto  l600,  have 
rightly  given  them  to  Philostrate,  who  appears  in  the  first  scene 
as  master  of  the  revels  to  Theseus,  and  is  there  sent  out  on  a 
similar  kind  of  errand. 

In  The  Knight's  Tale  of  Chaucer,  Arcite,  under  the  name  of 
Philostrate,  is  squire  of  the  chamber  to  Theseus.     Steevexs. 

*  Say,  what  abridgment  $fc.~\  By  abridgment  our  author  may 
mean  a  dramatick  performance,  which  crouds  the  events  of 
years  into  a  few  hours.  So,  in  Hamlet,  Act  FI.  sc.  vii.  he  calls 
the  players  "  abridgments,  abstracts,  and  brief  chronicles  of  the 
time." 

VOL.  i\  .  H  II 


466  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S         act  r. 

What  mask?  what  musick?  How  shall  we  beguile 
The  lazy  time,  if  not  with  some  delight  ? 

Phjlost.  There  is  a  brief,5  how  many  sports  are 
ripe ; 6 
Make  choice  of  which  your  highness  will  see  first. 

[Giving  a  paper. 

The.  reads.7^  The  battle  with  the  Centaurs,  to  be 

sung. 
By  an  Athenian  eunuch  to  the  harp.9 


Again,  in  K.  Henry  V : 

"  Then  brook  abridgment ;  and  your  eyes  advance 

"  After  your  thoughts ." 

It  may  be  worth  while,  however,  to  observe,  that  in  the  North 
the  word  abatement  had  the  same  meaning  as  diversion  or  amuse- 
ment. So,  in  the  Prologue  to  the  5th  Book  of  G.  Douglas'* 
version  of  the  JEneid : 

"  Ful  mony  mery  abaitmentis  followis  here." 

Steevens. 

Does  not  abridgment  in  the  present  instance,  signify  amuse- 
ment to  beguile  the  tediousness  of  the  evening  ?  or,  in  one  word, 
pastime?    Henley. 

*  a  brief,]  i.  e.  a  short  account  or  enumeration.     So,  in 

Gascoigne's  Dulce  Bellum  Inexpertis  : 

"  She  sent  a  brief  'unto  me  by  her  mayd." 
Again,  in  King  John  : 

" the  hand  of  time 

"  Shall  draw  this  brief  into  as  huge  a  volume." 

Steevens. 

are  ripe  ;]  One  of  the  quartos  has — ripe ;  the  other 


eld  editions — rife.    Johnson. 

Ripe  is  the  reading  of  Fisher's  quarto.     Rife,  however,  is  a 
word  used  both  by  Sidney  and  Spenser.     It  means  abounding, 
but  is  now  almost  obsolete.     Thus,  in  the  Arcadia,  Lib.  II : 
"  A  shop  of  shame,  a  booke  where  blots  be  rife.'" 

Again,  in  Stephen  Gosson's  School  of  Abuse,  15JQ  :  "  — you 
shall  find  the  theaters  of  the  one,  and  the  abuses  of  the  other, 
to  be  rife  among  us."     Steevens. 

7  The.  reads.]  This  is  printed  as  Mr.  Theobald  gave  it  from 
both  the  old  quartos.    In  the  first  folio,  and  all  the  following 


sc.  i.  DREAM.  467 

"We'll  none  of  that :  that  have  I  told  my  love, 
In  glory  of  my  kinsman  Hercules. 

The  riot  of  the  tipsy  Bacchanals, 
Tearing  the  Thracian  singer  in  their  rage. 

That  is  an  old  device ;  and  it  was  play'd 
When  I  from  Thebes  came  last  a  conqueror. 

The  thrice  three  Muses  mourning  for  the  death 
Of  learning^  late  deceased  in  beggary. 

That  is  some  satire,  keen,  and  critical,1 
Not  sorting  with  a  nuptial  ceremony. 

A  tedious  brief  scene  of  young  Pyramus, 
And  his  love  This  be ;  very  tragical  niirth. 

Merry  and  tragical  ?2  Tedious  and  brief? 


editions,  Lysander  reads  the  catalogue,  and  Theseus  makes  the 
remarks.     Johnson. 

8  By  an  Athenian  eunuch  to  the  harp.']  This  seems  to  imply 
a  more  ancient  practice  of  castration  for  the  voice,  than  can  bo 
found  in  opera  annals.     Burney. 

9  The  tJirice  three  Muses  mourning  for  the  death 

Of  learning,  &c.]  1  do  not  know  whether  it  has  been  be- 
fore observed,  that  Shakspeare  here,  perhaps, alluded  to  Spenser's 
poem,  entitled  The  Tears  of  the  Muses,  on  the  neglect  and  con- 
tempt of  learning.  This  piece  first  appeared  in  quarto,  with 
others  15<)1.  The  oldest  edition  of  this  play  now  known  is  dated 
ltiOO.  If  Spenser's  poem  be  here  intended,  may  we  not  pre- 
sume that  there  is  some  earlier  edition  of  this?  But,  however, 
if  the  allusion  be  allowed,  at  least  it  seems  to  bring  the  play  be- 
low 1591.     T.  Warton. 

1  keen,  and  critical,]    Critical  here    means   criticising, 

censuring.    So,  in  Othello: 

"  O,  I  am  nothing  if  not  critical."'     Steevens. 

*  Merry  and  tragical?}  Our  poet  is  still  harping  on  Cambyses, 
of  which  the  first  edition  might  have  appeared  in  15(x>-/0; 
when  "  an  Enterlude,  a  lamentable  Tragedy  full  of  pleasant 
Myrth"  was  licensed  to  John  Aide,  Regist.  Stat.  fol.  1S4,  b. 

Steevens. 

II  H  2 


<68  MIDSUxMMER-NIG  HT'S  act  v. 

That  is,  hot  ice,  and  wonderous  strange  snow.3 
How  shall  we  find  the  concord  of  this  discord? 

Philost.  A  play  there  is,  my  lord,  some  ten  words 
long ; 
Which  is  as  brief  as  I  have  known  a  play ; 
But  by  ten  words,  my  lord,  it  is  too  long ; 
Which  makes  it  tedious  :  for  in  all  the  play 
There  is  not  one  word  apt,  one  player  fitted. 
And  tragical,  my  noble  lord,  it  is ; 
For  Pyramus  therein  doth  kill  himself. 
Which,  when  I  saw  rehears'd,  I  must  confess, 


*  That  is,  hot  ice,  and  wonderous  strange  snow.]  The  non- 
sense of  this  line  should  be  corrected  thus : 

"  That  is,  hot  ice,  a  wonderous  strange  show." 

Warburton, 

Mr.  Upton  reads,  and  not  improbably : 

"  And  wonderous  strange  black  snow."     Johnson. 

Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  reads — wondrous  scorching  snow.     Mr. 
Pope  omits  the  line  entirely.  I  think  the  passage  needs  no  change, 
on  account  of  the  versification ;  for  wonderous  is  as  often  used  as 
three,  as  it  is  as  two  syllables.     The  meaning  of  the  line  is — 
" hot  ice,  and  snow  of  as  strange  a  quality." 

There  is,  however,  an  ancient  pamphlet  entitled,  "  Tarlton\ 
Devise  upon  this  unlooked  for  grete  Snowe."  And  perhaps  the 
passage  before  us  may  contain  some  allusion  to  it.  This  work 
is  entered  on  the  books  of  the  Stationers'  Company  ;  as  also, 
"  A  ballet  of  a  Northerne  Man's  Report  of  the  wonderful  great 
Snowe  In  the  Southerne  parts,"  &c.     Steevens. 

As  there  is  no  antithesis  between  strange  and  snow,  as  there 
is  between  hot  and  ice,  I  believe  we  should  read — "  and  wonder- 
ous strong  snow."     M.  Mason. 

In  support  of  Mr.  Mason's  conjecture  it  may  be  observed  that 
the  words  strong  and  strange  are  often  confounded  in  our  old 
plays. 

Mr.  Upton's  emendation  also  may  derive  some  support  from  a 
passage  in  Macbeth : 

" when  they  shall  be  opened,  black  Macbeth 

"  Shall  seem  as  pure  as  snow"     Malone. 


sc.  i.  DREAM.  46& 

Made  mine  eyes  water ;  but  more  merry  tears 
The  passion  of  loud  laughter  never  shed. 

The.  What  are  they,  that  do  play  it? 

Philost.  Hard-handed  men,  that  work  in  Athens 
here, 
Which  never  labour'd  in  their  minds  till  now ; 
And  now  have  toiPd  their  unbreath'd  memories4 
With  this  same  play,  against  your  nuptial. 

The.  And  we  will  hear  it. 

Philost.  No,  my  noble  lord, 

It  is  not  for  you :  I  have  heard  it  over, 
And  it  is  nothing,  nothing  in  the  world ; 
Unless  you  can  find  sport  in  their  intents,5 
Extremely  stretch'd,  and  conn'd  with  cruel  pain, 
To  do  you  service. 

The.  I  will  hear  that  play : 

For  never  any  thing  can  be  amiss, 
When  simpleness  and  duty  tender  it.6 
Go,  bring  them  in; — and  take  your  places,  ladies. 

[Exit  Philostrate. 

4  unhreath'd  memories — ]  That  is,  unexercised,  unprac- 
tised memories.     Steevens. 

i  Unless  you  can  find  sport  in  their  intents,]  Thus  all  the 
copies.  But  as  I  know  not  what  it  is  to  stretch  and  con  an  in- 
tent, I  suspect  a  line  to  be  lost.     Johnson. 

To  intend  and  to  attend  were  anciently  synonymous.  Of  this 
use  several  instances  are  given  in  a  note  on  the  third  scene  of  the 
first  Act  of  Othello.  Intents  therefore  may  be  put  for  the  object 
of  their  attention.    We  still  say  a  person  is  intent  on  his  business. 

Steevens. 

never  any  thing  caii  he  amiss, 


When  simpleness  and  duly  tender  it."]  Ben  Jonson  in  Cynthia's 
Revels  has  employed  this  sentiment  of  humanity  on  the  same  oc- 
casion, when  Cynthia  is  preparing  to  see  a  masque: 
"  Nothing  which  duty  ana  desire  to  please, 
"  Bears  written  on  the  forehead,  comes  amiss." 

Steevens. 


470  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S  act  r. 

Hip.  I  love  not  to  see  wretchedness  o'ercharg'd, 
And  duty  in  his  service  perishing. 

The.  Why,  gentle  sweet,  you  shall  see  no  such 
thing. 

Hip.  He  says,  they  can  do  nothing  in  this  kind. 

The.  The  kinder  we,  to  give  them  thanks  for 
nothing. 
Our  sport  shall  be,7  to  take  what  they  mistake : 
And  what  poor  duty  cannot  do,8 
Noble  respect  takes  it  in  might,  not  merit.9 


7  Our  sport  shall  be,  &c]  Voltaire  says  something  like  this  of 
Louis  XIV.  who  took  a  pleasure  in  seeing  his  courtiers  in  confu- 
sion when  they  spoke  to  hin; 

I  am  told,  however,  by  a  writer  in  the  Edinburgh  Magazine, 
for  Nov.  17b6,  that  I  have  assigned  a  malignant  instead  of  a 
humane  sentiment  to  Theseus,  and  that  he  really  means- — We  "will 
accept  with  pleasure  even  their  blundering  attempt.     Steevens. 

8  And  "what  poor  duty  cannot  do,~\  The  defective  metre  of 
this  line  shews  that  some  word  was  inadvertently  omitted  by  the 
transcriber  or  compositor.  Mr.  Theobald  supplied  the  defect  by 
reading  "  And  what  poor  trilling  duty,"  &c.     Malone. 

9  And  what  poor  duty  cannot  do, 

Noble  respect  takes  it  in  might,  not  merit. ]  The  sense  of 
this  passage,  as  it  now  stands,  if  it  has  any  sense,  is  this:  What 
the  inability  of  duty  cannot  perform,  regardjul  generosity  re- 
ceives as  an  act  of  ability,  though  not  of  merit.  The  contrary 
is  rather  true:  IV hat  dutifulness  tries  to  perform  without  ability, 
regardful  generosity  receives  as  having  the  merit,  though  not  the 
power,  of  complete  performance. 
We  should  therefore  read: 

And  what  poor  duty  cannot  do, 

Noble  respect  takes  not  in  might,  but  merit.     Johnson.    > 

In  might,  is,  perhaps,  an  elliptical  expression  for  what  might 
have  b< in,     Steevens. 

If  this  passage  is  to  stand  as  it  is,  the  meaning  appears  to  be 
this: — "  and  what  poor  duty  would  do,  but  cannot  accomplish, 
noble  respect  considers  as  it  might  have  been,  not  as  it  is." 

M.  Mason. 

And  what  dutifulness  tries  to  perform  without  ability,  regard- 


sc.  /.  DREAM.  471 

"Where  I  have  come,  great  clerks  have  purposed ! 
To  greet  me  with  premeditated  welcomes ; 
Where  I  have  seen  them  shiver  and  look  pale, 
Make  periods  in  the  midst  of  sentences, 
Throttle  their  practis'd  accent  in  their  fears, 
And,  in  conclusion,  dumbly  have  broke  off, 
Not  paying  me  a  welcome  :  Trust  me,  sweet, 
Out  of  this  silence,  yet,  I  pick'd  a  welcome ; 
And  in  the  modesty  of  fearful  duty 
I  read  as  much,  as  from  the  rattling  tongue 
Of  sawcy  and  audacious  eloquence. 
Love,  therefore,  and  tongue-tied  simplicity, 
In  least,  speak  most,  to  my  capacity. 

Enter  Philostrate. 

Philost.  So  please  your  grace,  the  prologue  is 
addrest.2 

The.  Let  him  approach.     [Flourish  of  trumpets.9 


ful  generosity  receives  with  complacency,  estimating  it  not  by 
the  actual  merit  of  the  performance,  but  by  what  it  might  have 
been,  were  the  abilities  of  the  performers  equal  to  their  zeal. — 
Such,  I  think,  is  the  true  interpretation  of  this  passage  ;  for 
which  the  reader  is  indebted  partly  to  Dr.  Johnson,  and  partly 
to  Mr.  Steevens.     Malone. 

1   Where  I  have  come,  great  clerks  have  purposed  &c]     So, 
in  Pericles  : 

"  She  sings  like  one  immortal,  and  she  dances 
"  As  goddess  like  to  her  admired  lays ; 
"  Deep  clerks  she  dumbs." 
It  should  be  observed,  that  periods  in  the  text  is  used  in  tht 
sense  of  full  points.     Malone. 

*  addrest. ~]  That  is,  ready.     So,  in  King  Henry  V: 

"  To-morrow  for  our  march  we  are  addrest." 

Steevens. 

3  Flourish  of  trumpets.]  It  appears  from  The  Guls  Hornbook, 
by  Decker,  l6o(},  that  the  prologue  was  anciently  ushered  in  by 
trumpets.     "  Present  not  yourseli'e  on  the  stage  (especially  at  a 


472  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S         act  v. 

Enter  Prologue. 

Prol.  If  we  offend,  it  is  with  our  good  will. 

That  you  should  think,  we  come  not  to  offend, 
But  with  'good-Will.     To  show  our  simple  skill, 

That  is  the  true  beginning  of  our  end. 
Consider  then,  we  come  but  in  despite. 

We  do  not  come  as  minding  to  content  you, 
Our  true  intent  is.     All  for  your  delight, 

We  are  not  here.  That  you  should  here  repent  you, 
The  actors  are  at  hand  ;  and,  by  their  show, 
You  shall  know  all,  that  you  are  like  to  know. 

The.  This  fellow  doth  not  stand  upon  points. 

Lys.  He  hath  rid  his  prologue,  like  a  rough  colt; 
he  knows  not  the  stop.  A  good  moral,  my  lord : 
It  is  not  enough  to  speak,  but  to  speak  true. 

Hip.  Indeed  he  hath  played  on  this  prologue, 
like  a  child  on  a  recorder  ; 4  a  sound,  but  not  in 
government.6 

new  play)  until  the  quaking  prologue  hath  (by  rubbing)  got 
cullor  in  his  cheekes,  and  is  ready  to  give  the  trumpets  their  cue 
that  hee's  upon  point  to  enter."     Steevens. 

4  —7—  on  a  recorder  ;]  Lord  Bacon  in  his  Natural  History  t 
cent.  iii.  sect.  221,  speaks  of  recorders  and  flutes  at  the  same  in- 
stant, and  says,  that  the  recorder  hath  a  less  bore,  and  a  greater, 
above  and  below  ;  and  elsewhere,  cent.  ii.  sect.  187,  he  speaks 
of  it  as  having  six  holes,  in  which  respect  it  answers  to  the 
Tibia  minor  or  Flajolet  of  Mersennus.  From  all  which  particu- 
lars it  should  seem  that  the  flute  and  the  recorder  were  different 
instruments,  and  that  the  latter  in  propriety  of  speech  was  no 
other  than  the  flagelet.  Hawkins's  History  of  Music k,  Vol.  IV. 
p.  479.     Reed. 

Shakspeare  introduces  the  same  instrument  in  Hamlet ;  and 
Milton  says : 

"  To  the  sound  of  soft  recorders." 
The  recorder  is  mentioned  in  many  of  the  old  plays.  Steevens. 

- but  not  in  government.^    That  is,  not  regularly,   ac- 
cording to  the  tune.     Steevens. 


sc.i.  DREAM.  473 

The.  His  speech  was  like  a  tangled  chain  ;  no- 
thing impaired,  but  all  disordered.    Who  is  next  ? 

Enter  Pyramus  and  Thisbe,  Wall,  Moonshine, 
and  Lion,  as  in  dumb  show.6 

Prol.    "  Gentles,  perchance,   you   wonder  at 

this  show ; 
"  But  wonder  on,  till  truth  make  all  things  plain. 
"  This  man  is  Pyramus,  if  you  would  know ; 
"  This  beauteous  lady  Thisby  is,  certain.7 


Hamlet,  speaking  of  a  recorder,  says : — "  Govern  these 
ventages  with  your  fingers  and  thumb  ;  give  it  breath  with  your 
mouth  ;  and  it  will  discourse  most  eloquent  music." — This  ex- 
plains the  meaning  of  government  in  this  passage.     M.  Mason. 

6  In  this  place  the  folio,  1023,  exhibits  the  following  prompter^ 
direction.     Tavoyer  with  a  trumpet  before  them.     Steevex^. 

7  This  beauteous  lady  Thisbe  is,  certain.]  A  burlesque  was 
here  intended  on  the  frequent  recurrence  of  "  certain'"  as  a 
bungling  rhyme  in  poetry  more  ancient  than  the  age  of  Shak- 
speare. 

Thus  in  a  short  poem  entitled  "  "  A  lytell  Treatise  called  the 
Dysputacyon  or  the  Complaynte  of  the  Herte  through  perced 
with  the  Lokynge  of  the  Eye.     Imprynted  at  Lodon  in  Flete- 
ttrete  at  the  Sygne  of  the  Sonne  by  Wynkyn  de  Worde:" 
"  And  houndes  syxcscore  and  mo  certayne — 
"  To  whome  my  thought  gan  to  strayne  certayne — 
"  Whan  I  had  fyrst  syght  of  her  certayne — 
"  In  all  honoure  she  hath  no  pere  certayne — 
"  To  loke  upon  a  fayre  Lady  certayne — 
"  As  moch  as  is  in  me  I  am  contente  certayne — 
"  They  made  there  both  two  theyr  promysse  certayne — 
"  All  armed  with  margaretes  certayne — 
"  Towardes  Venus  when  they  sholde  go  certayne,'*  &c. 
Again,  in  the  ancient  MS.  romance  of  the  Soivdun  q/^Baby- 
Loyac  : 

"  He  saide  the  xii  peres  bene  alle  dede, 
"  And  ye  Bpende  your  good  in  vayne, 
"  And  therefore  doth  noue  by  my  rede, 
M  Ye  sliull  nee  them  no  more  certeyn" 


a 


a 


474  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S         act  v. 

"  This  man,  with  lime  and  rough-cast,  doth  pre- 
sent 
"  Wall,  that  vile  wall  which  did  these  lovers 
sunder : 
"  And  through  wall's  chink,  poor  souls,  they  are 
content 
"  To  whisper  ;  at  the  which  let  no  man  wonder. 
This  man,  with  lantern,  dog,  and  bush  of  thorn, 
"  Presenteth  moon-shine  :  for,  if  you  will  know, 
By  moon-shine  did  these  lovers  think  no  scorn 
"  To  meet  at  Ninus*  tomb,8  there,  there  to  woo. 
"  This  grisly  beast,  which  by  name  lion  hight,9 
"  The  trusty  Thisby,  coming  first  by  night, 
"  Did  scare  away,  or  rather  did  affright : 


Again,  ibid  : 

"  The  kinge  turned  him  ageyn, 

"  And  alle  his  ooste  him  with, 

"  Towarde  Mountribble  certeyne"  &c.     Steevens. 

8  To  meet  at  Ninus'  tomb,  &c]  So,  in  Chaucer's  Legend  of 
Thisbe  of  Babylon  : 

"  Thei  settin  markes  ther  metingis  should  be, 
"  There  king  Ninus  was  graven  undir  a  tre.'* 

Again : 

"  And  as  she  ran  her  wimple  she  let  fall,"  &c. 

Again,  Golding  in  his  version  of  Ovid's  Metamorphosis,  B.  IV. 
has  a  similar  line  : 

"  And  as  shejled  away  for  haste,  she  let  her  mantle  fall." 

Steevens. 

•which  by  name  lion  hight,"]     As  all  the  other  parts  of 


this  speech  are  in  alternate  rhyme,  excepting  that  it  closes  with 
a  couplet  ;  and  as  no  rhyme  is  left  to  name,  we  must  conclude, 
either  a  verse  is  slipt  out,  which  cannot  now  be  retrieved  ;  or, 
by  a  transposition  of  the  words,  as  I  have  placed  them,  the  poet 
intended  a  triplet.     Theobald. 

Hight,  in  old  English,  signifies — is  called. — I  think  it  more 
probable  that  a  line,  following  the  words — by  night,  has  been 
lost,     Malone. 


5C.  i.  DREAM.  475 

"  And,  as  she  fled,  her  mantle  she  did  fall ; I 

"  Which  lion  vile  with  bloody  mouth  did  stain : 
"  Anon  comes  Pyramus,  sweet  youth,  and  tall, 

"  And  finds  his  trusty  Thisby's  mantle  slain  : 
"  Whereat  with  blade,  with  bloody  blameful  blade,2 

"  He  bravely  broach'd  his  boiling  bloody  breast  ; 
"  And,  Thisby  tarrying  in  mulberry  shade, 

"  His  dagger  drew,  and  died.     For  all  the  rest, 
"  Let  lion,  moon-shine,  wall,  and  lovers  twain, 
"  At  large  discourse,  while  here  they  do  remain." 
\_Exeunt  Prol.  Thisbe,  Lion,  and  Moonshine. 


1  her  mantle  she  did  fall ;]   Thus  all  the  old  copies.     The 

modern  editors  read — "  she  let  fall,"  unnecessarily.     To  fall  in 
this  instance  is  a  verb  active. 

So,  in  The  Tempest,  Act  II.  sc.  i : 

"  And  when  I  rear  my  hand,  do  you  the  like, 
"  To  fall  it  on  Gonzalo."     Steevens. 

*   JVherea',   with    blade,   with    bloody   blameful  blade,']     Mr. 
Upton  rightly  observes,  that  Shakspeare  in  this  line  ridicules  the 
affectation  of  beginning  many  words  with  the  same  letter.     He 
might  have  remarked  the  same  of — 
"  The  raging  rocks 
"  And  shivering  shocks." 
Gascoigne,  contemporary  with  our  poet,  remarks  and  blames 
the  same  affectation.     Johnson. 

It  is  also  ridiculed  by  Sidney  in  his  Astrophel  and  Stella,  15  : 
"  You  that  do  Dictionaries'  method  bring 
"  Into  your  rimes,  running  in  rattling  rovves." 
But  this  alliteration  seems  to  have  reached  the  height  of  its 
fashion   in  the  reign  of  Henry  VIII.      Ihe  following  stanza  is 
quoted  from  a  poem    On  the  Fall  and  evil  Success  of  Rebellion, 
written  in  1537,  by  Wilfride  Holme: 

"  Loe,  leprous  lurdeins,  lubricke  in  loquacitie, 
"  Vah,  vaporous  villeins,  with  venim  vulnerate, 
"  Proh,  prating  parenticides,  plexious  to  pinnositie, 
"  Fie,  frantike  tabulators,  furibund,  and  fatuate, 
"  Out,  oblatrant,  oblict,  obstacle,  and  obsecate. 
"  Ah  addict  algoes,  in  acerbitie  acclamant, 
"  Magnall  in  mischief,  malicipus  to  mugilate, 
"  Repriving  your  Roy  so  renowned  and  radiant." 
in  TuBser'a  Husbandry,  p.'ioi,  there  is  a  poem  of  which  every 


tt 
tt 

CC 


476  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S         act  r. 

The.  I  wonder,  if  the  lion  be  to  speak. 

Dem.  No  wonder,  my  lord :  one  lion  may,  when 
many  asses  do. 

Wall.  "  In  this  same  interlude,  it  doth  befall, 
"  That  I,  one  Snout  by  name,  present  a  wall : 
And  such  a  wall,  as  I  would  have  you  think, 
That  had  in  it  a  cranny* d  hole,  or  chink, 
Through  which  the  lovers,  Pyramus  and  Thisby, 
Did  whisper  often  very  secretly. 
This  loam,  this  rough-cast,  and  this  stone,  doth 
show 
"  That  I  am  that  same  wall ;  the  truth  is  so : 
"  And  this  the  cranny  is,3  right  and  sinister, 
"  Through  which  the  fearful  lovers  are  to  whis- 
per." 

The.  Would  you  desire  lime  and  hair  to  speak 
better  ? 


word  begins  with  a  T;  and  in  the  old  play  entitled :  The  Historic 
of  the  Tivo  valiant  Knights,  Syr  Clyomon  Knight  of  the  Golden 
Sheeld,  Sonne  to  the  King  of  Denmark;  and  Clamydes  the 
White  Knight ,  Son  to  the  King  of  Suavia,  15gg,  is  another  re- 
markable instance  of  alliteration : 

"  Bringing  my  bark  to  Denmark  here,  to  bide  the  bitter 
broyle 

"  And  beating  blowes  of  billows  high,"  &c.     Steevens. 

3  And  this  the  cranny  is,~\   So,  in  Golding's  Ovid,  1567  : 

"  The  wall  that  parted  house  from  house  had  riuen  therein 

a  crany 
"  Which  shronke  at  making  of  the  wall.     This  fault  not 

markt  of  any 
"  Of  many  hundred  yeares  before  (what  doth  not  loue 

espie) 
"  These  louers  first  of  all  found  out,  and  made  a  way 

thereby 
"  To  talk  togither  secretly,  and  through  the  same  did 

goe 
'*  Their  louing  •whisperings  verie  light  and  safely  to  and 

fro."     Ritson. 


sc.  I.  DREAM.  477 

Dem.  It  is  the  wittiest  partition  that  ever  I  heard 
discourse,  my  lord.4 

The.  Pyramus  draws  near  the  wall :  silence  ! 

Enter  Pyramus. 

Pyr.  "  O  grim-look* d  night !  O  night  with  hue 

so  black ! 
"  O  night,  which  ever  art,  when  day  is  not ! 
O  night,  O  night,  alack,  alack,  alack, 
"  I  fear  my  Thisby's  promise  is  forgot ! — 
And  thou,  O  wall,  O  sweet,  O  lovely  wall, 
"  That  stand'st  between  her  father's  ground  and 

mine ; 
Thou  wall,  O  wall,  O  sweet  and  lovely  wall, 
"  Shew  me  thy  chink,  to  blink  through  witli 
mine  eyne.  [Wall  holds  up  Ids  fingers. 
"  Thanks,  courteous  wall :  Jove  shield  thee  well 

for  this ! 
"  But  what  see  I  ?  No  Thisby  do  I  see. 
"  O  wicked  wall,5  through  whom  I  see  no  bliss  ; 
"  Curst  be  thy  stones  for  thus  deceiving  me  I" 

The.  The  wall,  methinks,  being  sensible,  should 


•< 


it 


.(. 


curse  again. 


Pyr.  No,  in  truth,  sir,  he  should  not.     Deceiving 


*  It  is  the  wittiest  partition  that  ever  I  heard  discourse,  my 
lord.~]  Demetrius  is  represented  as  a  punster :  I  believe  the  pas- 
sage should  be  read  :  This  is  the  wittiest  partition,  that  ever  I 
heard  in  discourse.  Alluding  to  the  many  stupid  partitions  in 
the  argumentative  writings  of  the  time.  Shakspeare  himself,  as 
well  as  his  contemporaries,  uses  discourse  for  reasoning ;  and  he 
here  avails  himself  of  the  double  sense ;  as  he  had  done  before 
in  the  word,  partition.     Farmer. 

*  O  wicked  wall,  &c]  So,  in  Chaucer's  Legend  of  Thisbe : 

"  Thus  would  thei  saine,  alas  !  thou  wicked  wal,"  &c. 

Steevens. 


478  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S        act  v. 

me,  is  Thisby's  cue:  she  is  to  enter  now,  and  I  am 
to  spy  her  through  the  wall.  You  shall  see,  it  will 
fall  pat  as  I  told  you  : — Yonder  she  comes. 

Enter  Thisbe. 

This.  "  O  wall,  full  often  hast  thou  heard  my 

moans, 
"  For  parting  my  fair  Pyramus  and  me : 
u  My  cherry  lips  have  often  kiss'd  thy  stones ; 
"  Thy  stones  with  lime  and  hair  knit  up  in  thee.6" 

Pyr.  "  I  see  a  voice :  now  will  I  to  the  chink, 
"  To  spy  an  I  can  hear  my  Thisby's  face. 
"  Thisby!" 

This.  "  My  love !  thou  art  my  love,  I  think." 

Pyr.  "  Think  what  thou  wilt,  I  am  thy  lover's 
grace ; 
"  And  like  Limander  am  I  trusty  still.7" 

This.  "  And  I  like  Helen,  till  the  fates  me  kill." 

Pyr.  "  Not  Shafalus  to  Proems  was  so  true." 

This.  "  As  Shafalus  to  Proems,  I  to  you." 

Pyr.  "  O,  kiss  me  through  the  hole  of  this  vile 
wall." 

This.  "  I  kiss  the  wall's  hole,  not  your  lips  at 
all.8" 


6 -knit  up  in  thee.']   Thus  the  folio.     The  quarto  reads— 

knit  nolo  again.     Steevens. 

7  And  like  Limander,  &c."|  Limander  and  Helen,  are  spoken 
by  the  blundering  player,  for  Leander  and  Hero.  Shafalus  and 
Procrus,  for  Cephalus  and  Procris.     Johnson. 

8  /  kiss  the  wall's  hole,  not  your  lips  at  all.]  So,  Holding's  Ovid  : 

"  When  night  drew  nere,  they  bade  adevv,  and  eche  gave 

kisses  sweete 
"  Unto  the  parget  on  their  side,  the  which  did  never 

mete."     Hitson. 


sc.  i.  DREAM.  479 

Pvr.  "  Wilt  thou  at  Ninny's  tomb  meet  me 
straightway  ?9" 

This.  "  Tide  life,  tide  death,  I  come  without 
delay." 

Wall."  Thus  have  I,  wall,  my  part  discharged  so ; 
"  And,  being  done,  thus  wall  away  doth  go." 

[Exeunt  Wall,  Pyramus,  and  Thisbe. 

The.  Now  is  the  mural  down  between  the  two 
neighbours. 

Dem.  No  remedy,  my  lord,  when  walls  are  so 
wilful  to  hear  without  warning.1 

Hip.  This  is  the  silliest  stuff  that  ever  I  heard. 

The.  The  best  in  this  kind  are  but  shadows  :  and 
the  worst  are  no  worse,  if  imagination  amend  them. 

Hip.  It  must  be  your  imagination  then,  and  not 
theirs. 

The.  If  we  imagine  no  worse  of  them,  than  they 
of  themselves,  they  may  pass  for  excellent  men. 
Here  come  two  noble  beasts  in,  a  moon  and  a 
lion.2 


•  Wilt  thou  at  Ninny's  tomb  meet  me  straightway?]  So, 
Golding's  Ovid  : 

"  They  did  agree  at  Ninus  tomb  to  meete  without  the 
towne."     Ritson. 

1  Dem.  No  remedy,  my  lord,  when  walls  are  so  ml  fid  to  hear 
tvithout  warning.']  This  alludes  to  the  proverb,  "  Walls  have 
ears.''1  A  wall  between  almost  any  two  neighbours  would  soon  be 
down,  were  it  to  exercise  this  faculty  without  previous  warning. 

Farmer. 

The  old  copies  read — moral,  instead  of  mural.  Mr.  Theobald 
made  the  correction.     Malone. 

9  Here  come  two  noble  beasts  in,  a  moon  and  a  lion.]  The  old 
copies  read — a  man,  &c.     Steevens. 

I  don't  think  the  jest  here  is  either  complete,  or  right.     It  i* 


4S0  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S         act  v. 


Enter  Lion  and  Moonshine. 

Liox.  "  You,  ladies,  you,  whose  gentle  hearts 

do  fear 
"  The  smallest  monstrous  mouse  that  creeps  on 

floor, 
"  May  now,  perchance,  both  quake  and  tremble 

here, 
"  When  lion  rough  in  wildest  rage  doth  roar. 


differently  pointed  in  several  of  the  old  copies,  which,  I  suspect, 
may  lead  us  to  the  true  reading,  viz : 

Here  come  two  noble  beasts — in  a  man  and  a  lion. 
immediately  upon  Theseus  saying  this,  Enter  Lion  and  Moon- 
shine. It  seems  very  probable,  therefore,  that  our  author  wrote: 

in  a  moon  and  a  lion. 

the  one  having  a  crescent  and  a  lanthorn  before  him,  and  repre- 
senting the  man  in  the  moon;  the  other  in  a  lion's  hide. 

Theobald. 

Mr.  Theobald  reads — a  moon  and  a  lion,  and  the  emendation 
was  adopted  by  the  subsequent  editors ;  but,  I  think,  without 
necessity.  The  conceit  is  furnished  by  the  person  who  repre- 
sents the  lion,  and  enters  covered  with  the  hide  of  that  beast ; 
and  Theseus  only  means  to  say,  that  the  man  who  represented 
the  moon,  and  came  in  at  the  same  time,  with  a  lantern  in  his 
hand,  and  a  bush  of  thorns  at  his  back,  was  as  much  a  beast  as 
he  who  performed  the  part  of  the  lion.     Malone. 

Here  come  two  noble  beasts  in,  a  moon  and  a  lion.  I  cannot 
help  supposing  that  we  should  have  it,  a  moon-calf.  The  old 
copies  read — a  man  ;  possibly  man  was  the  marginal  interpreta- 
tion of  moon-calf;  and,  being  more  intelligible,  got  into  the 
text. 

The  man  in  the  moon  was  no  new  character  on  the  stage,  and 
is  here  introduced  in  ridicule  of  such  exhibitions.  Ben  Jonson  in 
one  of  his  masques,  call'd  Netvs  from  the  New  World  in  the 
Moon,  makes  his  Factor  doubt  of  the  person  who  brings  the  in- 
telligence :  "  I  must  see  his  dog  at  his  girdle,  and  the  bush  of 
thorns  at  his  back,  ere  I  believe  it." — "  Those,  replies  one  of  the 
heralds,  are  stale  ensigns  o'  the  stage.,'>     Farmer. 


sc.  i.  DREAM.  481 

"  Then  know,  that  I,  one  Snug  the  joiner,  am 
"  A  lion  fell,  nor  else  no  lion's  dam  :3 
"  For  if  I  should  as  lion  come  in  strife 
"  Into  this  place,  'twere  pity  on  my  life." 

The.  A  very  gentle  beast,  and  of  a  good  con- 
science. 

Dem.  The  very  best  at  a  beast,  my  lord,  that  e'er 
I  saw. 

Lys.  This  lion  is  a  very  fox  for  his  valour. 

The.  True  ;  and  a  goose  for  his  discretion. 

Dem.  Not  so,  my  lord :  for  his  valour  cannot 
carry  his  discretion ;  and  the  fox  carries  the  goose. 

The.  His  discretion,  I  am  sure,  cannot  carry  his 
valour ;  for  the  goose  carries  not  the  fox.  It  is  well : 
leave  it  to  his  discretion,  and  let  us  listen  to  the 
moon. 

Moon.  "  This  lantern  doth  the  horned  moon 

present :" 
Dem.  He  should  have  worn  the  horns  onhis  head. 

The.  He  is  no  crescent,  and  his  horns  are  invi- 
sible within  the  circumference. 

Moon.  "  This  lantern  doth  the  horned  moon 
present ; 
"  Myself  the  man  i'th'moon  do  seem  to  be." 


3  Thru  knotv,  that  I,  one  Suns;  the joiner,  am 

A  lion  Jell,  nor  else  no  /ion's  dam:']  That  is,  that  I  am  Snug 
the  joiner ;  and  neither  a  lion,  nor  a  lion's  dam.  Dr.  Johnson 
has  justly  observed  in  a  note  on  All's  well  that  ends  well,  that 
nor  in  the  phraseology  of  our  author's  time  often  related  to  two 
members  of  a  sentence,  though  only  expressed  in  the  latter.  So 
in  the  play  just  mentioned  : 

" contempt  nor  bitterness 

"  Were  in  his  pride  or  sharpness." 
The  reading  of  the  text  is  that  of  the  folio.    The  quartos  read 
— that  I  as  Snug  the  joiner,  &c.     Malone. 
VOL.   IV.  J  I 


482  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S        act  v. 

The.  This  is  the  greatest  error  of  all  the  rest : 
the  man  should  be  put  into  the  lantern :  How  is  it 
else  the  man  i'the  moon  ? 

Dem.  He  dares  not  come  there  for  the  candle : 
for,  you  see,  it  is  already  in  snuff.4 

Hip.  I  am  aweary  of  this  moon :  Would,  he 
would  change ! 

The.  It  appears,  by  his  small  light  of  discretion, 
that  he  is  in  the  wane  :  but  yet,  in  courtesy,  in  all 
reason,  we  must  stay  the  time. 

Lys.  Proceed,  moon. 

Moon.  All  that  I  have  to  say,  is,  to  tell  you,  that 
the  lantern  is  the  moon ;  I,  the  man  in  the  moon  ; 
this  thorn-bush,  my  thorn-bush ;  and  this  dog,  my 
dog. 

Dem.  Why,  all  these  should  be  in  the  lantern  ; 
for  they  are  in  the  moon.  But,  silence ;  here  comes 
Thisbe. 

Enter  Thisbe. 

This.  "  This  is  old  Ninny's  tomb:  Where  is  my 
love  ?" 

Lion.  "  Oh—." 

\_The  Lion  roars. — Thisbe  runs  off. 


4  in  snuff.]    An  equivocation.     Snuff"  signifies  both  the 

cinder  of  a  candle,  and  hasty  anger.    Johnson. 

So,  in  Love's  Labour's  Lost ; 

"  You'll  mar  the  light,  by  taking  it  in  snuff.'" 

Steevens. 

Again,  in  The  Atheist's  Tragedy,  l6ll: 

"  Do  you  take  that  in  snuff  sir  ?" 
See  also,  note  on  Love's  Labour's  Lost,  Act  V.  sc.  ii.  and  First 
Part  of  King  Henry  IV.  Act  I.  sc.  iii.     Reed. 


sc.  i.  DREAM.  4SS 

Dem.  Well  roared,  lion. 

The.  Well  run,  Thisbe. 

Hip.  Well  shone, moon. — Truly, the  moon  shines 
with  a  good  grace. 

The.  Well  moused,  lion.5 

\_The  Lion  tears  Thisbe's  mantle,  and  exit. 

Dem.  And  so  comes  Pyramus. 

Lys.  And  then  the  moon  vanishes.0 

Enter  Pyramus. 

Pyr.  "  Sweet  moon,  I  thank  thee  for  thy  sunny 

beams ; 
"  I  thank  thee,  moon,  for  shining  now  so  bright: 
"  For,  by  thy  gracious,  golden,  glittering  streams,7 
"  I  trust  to  taste  of  truest  Thisby's  sight. 

5  Well  moused,  Hon.]    So,  in  an  ancient  bl.  1.  ballad  on  this 
story,  intitled,  The  Constancy  of  true  Love  :  &c. 
"  And  having  musled  thus  the  same, 
"  Thither  he  went  whence  first  he  came." 
Theseus  means  that  the  lion  has  well  tumbled  and  bloodied  the 
veil  of  Thisbe.     Steevens. 

I  believe  this  should  be  "  Well  mouthed  lion,"  alluding  either 
to  his  roaring,  or  to  his  tearing  with  his  mouth  the  mantle  of 
Thisbe : 

"  Which  lion  vile  with  bloody  mouth  did  stain." 

M.  Mason. 

Well  moused  lion  /]  To  mouse  signified  to  mammock,  to  tear 
in  pieces,  as  a  cat  tears  a  mouse.     Malone. 

0  Dem.  And  so  comes  Pyramus. 
Lys.  And  then  the  moon  vanishes.]  The  old  copies  read: 
"  Dem.  And  then  came  Pyramus," 
"  Lys.  And  so  the  lion  vanished." 
It  were  needless  to  say  any  thing  in  defence  of  Dr.  Farmer's 
emendation.     The  reader  indeed  may  ask  why  this  glaring  cor- 
ruption was  suffered  to  remain  so  long  in  the  text.     Steevexs. 

glittering  st>ra»iy,~\  The  old  copies  read — beams. 

SXKEVENS. 

I  I  2 


484  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS         act  r. 

"  But  stay  ; — O  spite  ! 

"  But  mark  ; — Poor  knight, 
"  What  dreadful  dole  is  here  ? 

"  Eyes,  do  you  see  ? 

"  How  can  it  be  ? 
"  O  dainty  duck  !  O  dear  ! 

"  Thy  mantle  good, 

"  Wliat,  stain'd  with  blood  ? 
M  Approach,  ye  furies  fell!8 

"  O  fates !  come,  come  ; 

"  Cut  thread  and  thrum  ;9 
Quail,  crush,  conclude,  and  quell!1" 


it 


The  emendation  was  made  by  the  editor  of  the  second  folio, 

Malone. 

*  Approach,  ye  Juries  Jell!']     Somewhat  like  this  our  poet 
might  possibly  have  recollected  in  "  A  lytell  Treatyse  cleped  La, 
Conusannce  d"  Amours.     Printed  by  Richard  Pynson,"  no  date : 
"  O  ye  moost  cruell  and  rabbyshe  lions  fell, 
"  Come  nowe  and  teare  the  corps  of  Pyramus ! 
"  Ye  sauage  beestes  that  in  these  rockes  dwell, 
"  If  blode  to  you  be  so  delicious, 
"  Come  and  gnawe  my  wretched  body  dolorous ! 
"  And  on  the  kerchef  with  face  pale  and  tryst, 
"  He  loked  ofte,  and  it  right  swetely  kist."     Steevens. 

Approach,  ye  Juries  Jell ! 

O  Jates !    come,  come,  &c]     The  poet  here,  and  in  the 
following  lines  spoken  by  Thisbe — 
"  O  sisters  three, 
"  Come,  come  to  me, 
"  With  hands  as  pale  as  milk — " 
probably  intended  to  ridicule  a  passage  in  Damon  and  Pythias, 
by  Richard  Edwards,  1582: 
"  Ye  Juries,  all  at  once 
*<  On  me  your  torments  trie : — 
"  Gripe  me,  you  greedy  greefs, 

"  And  present  pangues  of  death, 
"  You  sisters  three,  tvith  cruel  handes 

"  With  speed  come  stop  my  breath  /"     Malone. 

9  cut  thread  and  thrum ;]   Thrum  is  the  end  or  extremity 

of  a  weaver's  warp ;  it  is  popularly  used  for  very  coarse  yarn. 
The  maids  now  call  a  mop  of  yarn  a  thrum  mop.    Warner. 


sc.  I.  DREAM.  485 

The.  This  passion,  and  the  death  of  a  dear  friend, 
would  go  near  to  make  a  man  look  sad. 

Hip.  Beshrew  my  heart,  but  I  pity  the  man. 

Pyr.  "  O,  wherefore,  nature,  didst  thou  lions 

frame  ? 
"  Since  lion  vile  hath  here  deflour'd  my  dear : 
*'  Which  is — no,  no — which  was  the  fairest  dame, 
"  That  liv'd,  that  lov'd,  that  lik'd,  that  look'd 
with  cheer.2 
"  Come,  tears,  confound;3 
"Out,  sword,  and  wound 
"  The  pap  of  Pyramus  : 
"  Ay,  that  left  pap, 
"  Where  heart  doth  hop  :4 — 
"  Thus  die  I,  thus,  thus,  thus. 


So,  in  Hannibal  and  Scipio,  1637  : 

" no  rough  pelt  of  thrums, 

"  To  fight  with  weather." 
Again,  in  Chapman's  translation  of  the  l6th  Iliad: 

"  And   tapestries   all   golden   fring'd,   and   curl'd   with 
thr iimbs  behind." 
So,  in  Howell's  Letter  to  Sir  Paid  Neale,  Knt.    "  Transla- 
tions are  like  the  wrong  side  of  a  Turkey  carpet,  which  useth  to 
be  full  of  thrums  and  knots,  and  nothing  so  even  as  the  right  side." 
The  thought  is  borrowed  from  Don  Quixote.     Steevens. 

1  and  quell !]    To  quell  is  to  murther,  to  destroy.     So, 

in  the  12th  pageant  of  the  Lusus  Coventrice,  commonly  called 
the  Corpus  Chnsti  Play.     MS.  Cott.  Vesp.  D.  viii : 
"  That  he  the  lawe  may  here  do, 
"  With  stonys  her  to  quell.'"     Steevens. 

*  cheer.]  i.  e.  countenance.     So,  in  Chaucer's  Clerke's 

Tale,  Tyrwhitt's  edit.  v.  SI  17  : 

" passing  any  wight 

"  Of  so  yong  age,  as  wel  in  chere  as  dede."     Steevens. 

'  Come,  tears,  confound  ;]  Thus,  in  Golding's  Ovid  : 

" one  night  (he  sayd)  shall  louers  two  cvnfounde." 

Ritson. 

*  Ay,  that  left  pap, 

Where  heart  doth  hop  ;]  Lest  our  author  should  seem  charge- 


486  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS         act  v. 

"  Now  am  I  dead, 

"  Now  am  I  fled ; 
"  My  soul  is  in  the  sky : 

"  Tongue,  lose  thy  light ! 

"  Moon,  take  thy  flight ! 
"  Now  die,  die,  die,  die,  die. 

\_Dies. — Exit  Moonshine. 

Dem,  No  die,  but  an  ace,  for  him ;  for  he  is  but 
one. 

Lys.  Less  than  an  ace,  man;  for  he  is  dead;  he 
is  nothing. 

The.  With  the  help  of  a  surgeon,  he  might  yet 
recover,  and  prove  an  ass.5 

Hip.  How  chance  moonshine  is  gone,  before 
Thisbe  comes  back  and  finds  her  lover  ? 

The.  She  will  find  him  by  star-light. — Here  she 
comes  ;  and  her  passion  ends  the  play. 

Enter  Thisbe. 

Hip.  Methinks,  she  should  not  use  a  long  one, 
for  such  a  Pyramus  :  I  hope,  she  will  be  brief. 

able  with  an  inefficient  rhyme,  it  ought  to  be  remembered  that 
the  broad  pronunciation,  now  almost  peculiar  to  the  Scotch, 
was  anciently  current  in  England.  Throughout  the  old  copies 
of  Shakspeare's  plays,  "  tattered"  is  always  spelt  "  tottered ;" 
Pap  therefore  was  sounded,  Pop.  The  context  reminds  us  of  a 
passage  in  the  seventh  Satire  of  Juvenal : 

" Iceva  in  parte  mamillee 

"  Nil  salit — ."     Steevens. 

and  prove  an  ass.~\  The  character  of  Theseus  through- 


out this  play  is  more  exalted  in  its  humanity,  than  its  greatness. 
Though  some  sensible  observations  on  life,  and  animated  descrip- 
tions fall  from  him,  as  it  is  said  of  Iago,  you  shall  taste  him  more 
as  a  soldier  than  as  a  "wit,  which  is  a  distinction  he  is  here  striving 
to  deserve^  though  with  little  success ;  as  in  support  of  his  pre- 
tensions he  never  rises  higher  than  a  pun,  and  frequently  sinks 
as  low  as  a  quibble.    Steevens. 


sc.  I.  DREAM.  487 

Dem.  A  mote  will  turn  the  balance,0  which  Py- 
ramus,  which  Thisbe,  is  the  better.7 

Lys.  She  hath  spied  him  already  with  those  sweet 
eyes. 

Dem.  And  thus  she  moans,8  videlicet. 

This.  "  Asleep,  my  love  ? 

"  What,  dead,  my  dove  ? 
"  O  Pyramus,  arise, 

"  Speak,  speak.     Quite  dumb  ? 

"  Dead,  dead  ?  A  tomb 
"  Must  cover  thy  sweet  eyes. 

6  A  mote  ivill  turn  the  balance,]  The  old  copies  have — moth  ; 
but  Mr.  Malone  very  justly  observes  that  moth  was  merely  the 
ancient  mode  of  spelling  mote.  So,  in  King  Henry  V :  "  Wash 
every  moth  (i.  e.  mote)  out  of  his  conscience."     Steevens. 

7  The  first  quarto  makes  this  speech  a  little  longer,  but  not 
better.     Johnson. 

The  passage  omitted  is, — "  He  for  a  man,  God  warned  us ; 
she  for  a  woman,  God  bless  us."     Steevens. 

8  And  thus  she  moans,]  The  old  copies  concur  in  reading — 
means  ;  which  Mr.  Theobald  changed  into — moans ;  and  the 
next  speech  of  Thisbe  appears  to  countenance  his  alteration : 

"  Lovers,  make  moan."     Steevens. 

Mr.  Theobald  alters  means  to  moans :  but  means  had  an- 
ciently the  same  signification.  Mr.  Pinkerton  (under  the  name 
of  Robert  Heron,  Esq.)  observes  that  it  is  a  common  term  in  the 
Scotch  law,  signifying  to  tell,  to  relate,  to  declare  ;  and  the  pe- 
titions to  the  lords  of  session  in  Scotland,  run  :  "  To  the  lords  of 
council  and  session  humbly  means  and  shows  your  petitioner." 
Here,  however,  it  evidently  signifies  complains.  Bills  in  Chan- 
cery begin  in  a  similar  manner :  "  Humbly  complaining  sheweth 
unto  your  lordship,"  &c.  The  word  occurs  in  an  ancient  manu- 
script in  my  own  possession  : 

11  This  ender  day  wen  me  was  wo, 
"  Under  a  bugh  ther  I  lay, 

"  Naght  gale  to  mene  me  to." 
So  again,  in  a  very  ancient  Scottish  song : 

"  I  hard  ane  may  sair  mwrne  and  ?nei/ne."     Ritson- 


488  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S         act  k 


9 


it 


it 


"  These  lily  brows, 
"  This  cherry  nose,J 

These  yellow  cowslip  cheeks, 
"  Are  gone,  are  gone : 
"  Lovers,  make  moan  ! 

His  eyes  were  green  as  leeks.1 


Thus  also,  in  the  Cronykil  of  A.  Wyntotvn,  B.  VIII.  ch.  xxxvL 
v.  S7: 

"  Bot  playnt ;  na  duie,  na  yhit  mening 
"  Mycht  helpe  noucht — ;" 
See  also,  v.  1 10.     Steevens. 

9  These  lily  brows, 
This  cherry  nose,]  The  old  copy  reads : 
"  These  lily  lips,"  &c.     Steevens. 

All  Thisbe's  lamentation,  till  now,  runs  in  regular  rhyme  and 
metre.     But  both,  by  some  accident,  are  in  this  single  instance 
interrupted.     I  suspect  the  poet  wrote : 
These  lily  brows, 
This  cherry  nose. 
Now  black  brows  being  a  beauty,  lily  brows  are  as  ridiculous 
as  a  cherry  nose,  green  eyes,  or  cowslip  cheeks.     Theobald. 

Theobald's  emendation  is  supported  by  the  following  passage 
in  As  you  like  it : 

"  'Tis  not  your  inky  brotvs,  your  black  silk  hair — ." 
And  by  another,  in  The  Winter's  Tale: 

" ■ —  not  for  because 

"  Your  brows  are  blacker,  yet  black  brovos  they  say 

"  Become  some  women  best."     Ritson. 

Lily  lips  are  changed  to  lily  brotvs  for  the  sake  of  the  rhyme, 
but  this  cannot  be  right :  Thisbe  has  before  celebrated  her  Py- 
ramus,  as — - 

"  Lilly-white  of  hue." 
It  should  be : 

"  These  lips  lilly, 

"  This  nose  cherry." 
This  mode  of  position  adds  not  a  little  to  the  burlesque  of  the 
passage.     Farmer. 

We  meet  with  somewhat  like  this  passage  in  George  Peele's 
Old  Wives  Tale,  15Q5: 

'  Her  corall  lippes,  her  crimson  chinne. — Thou  art  a  flouting 
knave.     Her  corall  lippes  her  crimson  chinne  /"     Steevens. 


sc.  i.  DREAM.  489 


"  O  sisters  three, 

"  Come,  come,  to  me, 


"  With  hands  as  pale  as  milk ; 

"  Lay  them  in  gore, 

"  Since  you  have  shore 
"  With  shears  his  thread  of  silk. 

"  Tongue,  not  a  word : — 

"  Come,  trusty  sword  ; 
"  Come,  blade,  my  breast  imbrue : 

"  And  farewell,  friends  ; — 

"  Thus  Thisbe  ends : 
"  Adieu,  adieu,  adieu."  [Dies. 

The.  Moonshine  and  lion  are  left  to  bury  the 
dead. 

Dem.  Ay,  and  wall  too. 

Bot.  No,  I  assure  you ;  the  wall  is  down  that 
parted  their  fathers.  Will  it  please  you  to  see  the 
epilogue,  or  to  hear  a  Bergomask  dance,2  between 
two  of  our  company  ? 3 


1  His  eyes  "were  green  as  leeks.]  Thus  also  the  nurse  in  Romeo 
and  Juliet,  speaking  of  Paris,  says : 

" an  eagle,  madam, 

"  Hath  not  so  green,  so  quick,  so  fair  an  eye." 
See  note  on  this  passage.     Steevens. 

2  a  Bergomask  dance,']    Sir  Thomas  Hanmer  observes  in 

his  Glossary,  that  this  is  a  dance  after  the  manner  of  the  pea- 
sants of  Bcrgomasco,  a  country  in  Italy,  belonging  to  the  Vene- 
tians. All  the  buffoons  in  Italy  affect  to  imitate  the  ridiculous 
jargon  of  that  people  ;  and  from  thence  it  became  also  a  custom 
to  imitate  their  manner  of  dancing.     Steevens. 

3  our  company?]  At  the  conclusion  of  Beaumont  and 

Fletcher's  Beggar  s  Bush,  there  seems  to  be  a  sneer  at  this  cha- 
racier  of  Bottom  ;  but  I  do  not  very  clearly  perceive  its  drift. 
The  beggars  have  resolved  to  embark  for  England,  and  exercise 
their  profession  there.     One  of  them  adds: 

" we  have  a  course  ; — 

"  The  spirit  of  Bottom,  is  grown  bottomle  IS  ' 


490  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS        act  v. 

The.  No  epilogue,  I  pray  you ;  for  your  play 
needs  no  excuse.  Never  excuse ;  for  when  the 
players  are  all  dead,  there  need  none  to  be  blamed. 
Marry,  if  he  that  writ  it,  had  play'd  Pyramus,  and 
hanged  himself  in  Thisbe's  garter,  it  would  have 
been  a  fine  tragedy  :  and  so  it  is,  truly  ;  and  very 
notably  discharged.  But  come,  your  Bergomask  : 
let  your  epilogue  alone. 

\_Here  a  dance  of  Clowns. 
The  iron  tongue  of  midnight  hath  told  twelve  : — 
Lovers,  to  bed  ;  'tis  almost  fairy  time. 
I  fear  we  shall  out-sleep  the  coming  morn, 
As  much  as  we  this  night  have  overwatch'd. 
This  palpable-gross  play  hath  well  beguil'd 
The  heavy  gait4  of  night. — Sweet  friends,  to  bed. — 
A  fortnight  hold  we  this  solemnity, 
In  nightly  revels,  and  new  jollity.  \_Exeunt. 

This  may  mean,  that  either  the  publick  grew  indifferent  to 
bad  actors,  to  plays  in  general,  or  to  characters,  the  humour  of 
which  consisted  in  blunders.     Steevens. 

4  heavy  gait — ]    i.  e.  slow  passage,  progress.      So,  in 

Love's  Labour's  Lost :  "  You  must  send  the  ass  upon  the  horse, 
for  he  is  slow-gaited."      In  another  play  we  have — "  Jieavij- 


gaited  toads."     Steevens. 


sc.  ii.  DREAM.  491 

SCENE  II. 

Enter  Puck. 

Puck.  Now  the  hungry  lion  roars,5 
And  the  wolf  behowls  the  moon  ; 6 

Whilst  the  heavy  ploughman  snores, 
All  with  weary  task  fordone.7 


4  Nolo  the  hungry  lion  roars,  &c.~\  It  has  been  justly  observed 
by  an  anonymous  writer,  that,  "  among  this  assemblage  of  fami- 
liar circumstances  attending  midnight,  either  in  England  or  its 
neighbouring  kingdoms,  Shakspeare  would  never  have  thought 
of  intermixing  the  exotick  idea  of  the  hungry  lion  roaring, 
which  can  be  heard  no  nearer  than  in  the  deserts  of  Africa,  if  he 
had  not  read  in  the  104th  Psalm  :  "  Thou  makest  darkness  that 
it  may  be  night,  wherein  all  the  beasts  of  the  forest  de  move ; 
the  lions  roaring  after  their  prey,  do  seek  their  meat  from  God." 

Malone. 

Shakspeare  might  have  found  the  midnight  roar  of  the  Lion 
associated  with  the  hotvl  of  the  Wolf,  in  Phaer's  translation  of 
the  following  lines  in  the  seventh  JEneid  : 

"  Hinc  exaudiri  gemitus  iraeque  leonum 

"  Vincla  recusantum,  et  sera  sub  node  rudentum  ; 

" ■  ac  formas  magnorum  ulidare  luporum. 

I  do  not,  however,  perceive  the  justness  of  the  foregoing  ano- 
nymous writer's  observation.  Puck,  who  could  "  encircle  the 
earth  in  forty  minutes,"  like  his  fairy  mistress,  might  have  snuffed 
"  the  spiced  Indian  air  ;"  and  consequently  an  image,  foreign  to 
Europeans,  might  have  been  obvious  to  him.  He  therefore  was 
at  liberty  to — 

"  Talk  as  familiarly  of  roaring  lio)is, 

"  As  maids  of  fifteen  do  of  puppy-dogs." 
Our  poet,  however,  inattentive  to  little  proprieties,  has  some- 
times introduced  his  wild  beasts  in  regions  where  they  are  never 
found.     Thus  in  Arderi,  a  forest  in  French  Flanders,  we  hear  of 
a  lioness,  and  a  bear  destroys  Antigonus  in  Bohemia.  Steevenn. 

6  And  the  7co//'beho\\  Is  the  moon ;]  In  the  old  copies:  "  And 
the  wolf  beholds  the  moon."  As  'tis  the  design  of  these  lines  to 
characterize  the  animals,  as  they  present  themselves  at  the  hour 
of  midnight  ;  and  as  the  wolf  is  not  justly  characterized  by  say- 
ing he  behohk  the  moon,  which  other  beasts  of  prey,  then  awake. 


492  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS        act  v. 

Now  the  wasted  brands  do  glow, 

Whilst  the  scritch-owl,  scritching  loud, 

Puts  the  wretch,  that  lies  in  woe, 
In  remembrance  of  a  shroud. 

do  :  and  as  the  sounds  these  animals  make  at  that  season,  seem 
also  intended  to  be  represented,  I  make  no  question  but  the  poet 
wrote : 

"  And  the  wolf  behowls  the  moon." 
For  so  the  wolf  is  exactly  characterized,  it  being  his  peculiar 
property  to  hotel  at  the  moon.     (Behowl,  as  bemoan,  beseem, 
and  an  hundred  others.)     Warburton. 

So,  in  Marston's  Antonio  and  Mellida,  where  the  whole  pas- 
sage seems  to  be  copied  from  this  of  our  author : 

"  Now  barks  the  wolfe  against  the  full  cheek'd  moon, 

"  Now  lyons  half-clam'd  entrals  roar  for  food, 

"  Now  croaks  the  toad,  and  night-crows  screech  aloud, 

"  Flutt'ring  'bout  casements  of  departing  souls  ; 

"  Now  gape  the  graves,  and  thro'  their  yawns  let  loose 

"  Imprison'd  spirits  to  revisit  earth."     Theobald. 

The  alteration  is  better  than  the  original  reading  ;  but  perhaps 
the  author  meant  only  to  say,  that  the  wolf  gazes  at  the  moon. 

Johnson. 

I  think,  "  Now  the  wolf  behowls  the  moon,''''  was  the  original 
text.  The  allusion  is  frequently  met  with  in  the  works  of  our 
author  and  his  contemporaries.  "  'Tis  like  the  howling  of  Irish 
wolves  against  the  moon,"  says  he,  in  his  As  you  like  it ;  and 
Massinger,  in  his  New  Way  to  pay  old  Debts,  makes  an  usurer 
feel  only — 

" as  the  moon  is  mov'd 

"  When  wolves  with  hunger  pin'd,  howl  at  her  brightness." 

Farmer. 

The  word  beholds  was  in  the  time  of  Shakspeare  frequently 
written  behoidds,  (as,  I  suppose,  it  was  then  pronounced,)  which 
probably  occasioned  the  mistake. 

It  is  observable,  that  in  the  passage  of  Lodge's  Rosalynda, 
1592,  which  Shakspeare  seems  to  have  had  in  his  thoughts,  when 
he  wrote,  in  As  you  like  it : — "  '  Tis  like  the  howling  of  Irish 
wolves  against  the  moon :" — the  expression  is  found,  that  Mar- 
ston  has  used  instead  of  behowls.  "  In  courting  Phebe,  thou 
barkest  with  the  wolves  of  Syria  against  the  moon." 

These  lines  also  in  Spenser's  Fairy  Queen,  B.  I.  c.  v.  St.  30. 
which  Shakspeare  might  have  remembered,  add  support  to  the 
emendation  now  made : 


se.  n.  DREAM.  493 

Now  it  is  the  time  of  night,8 

That  the  graves,  all  gaping  wide, 
Every  one  lets  forth  his  sprite, 

In  the  church-way  paths  to  glide  : 
And  we  fairies,  that  do  run 

By  the  triple  Hecat's  team, 
From  the  presence  of  the  sun, 

Following  darkness  like  a  dream, 
Now  are  frolick  ;  not  a  mouse 
Shall  disturb  this  hallow'd  house  : 
I  am  sent,  with  broom,  before, 
To  sweep  the  dust  behind  the  door.9 


"  And  all  the  while  she  [Night]  stood  upon  the  ground, 

"  The  wakeful  dogs  did  never  cease  to  bay; — 

"  The  messenger  of  death,  the  ghastly  owle, 

"  With  drery  shrieks  did  also  her  bewray ; 

"  And  hungry  ivofves  continually  did  howle 

"  At  her  abhorred  face,  so  filthy  and  so  fowle." 

Malone. 

— fordone.']  i.  e.  overcome.     So,  Spenser,  Fairy  Queent 
B.  I.  c.  x.  st.  33: 

"  And  many  souls  in  dolour  h&dforedone." 
Again,  in  Jarvis  Markham's  English  Arcadia,  1607 : 

"  —  fore-wearied  with  striving,  and  fore-done  with  the  ty- 
rannous rage  of  her  enemy." 

Again,  in  the  ancient  metrical  romance  of  Sir  Bevis  of  Hamp- 
ton, bl.  1.  no  date : 

"  But  by  the  other  day  at  none, 

"  These  two  dragons  weveforedone."     Steevens. 

•  Novo  it  is  the  time  of  night,  &c]     So,  in  Hamlet  : 
"  'Tia  noiv  the  very  witching  time  of  night, 
"  When  churchyards  yawn — ."     Steevens. 

9  I  am  scnt,tvilh  broom,  before, 

To  siveep  the  dust  behind  the  door,]  Cleanliness  is  always 
necessary  to  invite  the  residence  and  the  favour  of  the  fairies  : 
"  These  make  our  girls  their  slutt'ry  rue, 
"  By  pinching  them  both  black  and  blue, 
"  And  put  a  penny  in  their  shoe 
"  The  house  for  cleanly  sweeping."     Drayton. 

John  son". 


V 


494  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S         act  v. 

Enter  Oberon  and  Titania,  with  their  Train. 


L5 


Obe.    Through  this  house  give  glimmering 
light,1 

By  the  dead  and  drowsy  fire  : 
Every  elf,  and  fairy  sprite, 

Hop  as  light  as  bird  from  brier ; 2 
And  this  ditty,  after  me, 
Sing,  and  dance  it  trippingly. 

Tita.  First,  rehearse  this  song  by  rote  : 
To  each  word  a  warbling  note, 
Hand  in  hand,  with  fairy  grace, 
Will  we  sing,  and  bless  this  place. 


To  sweep  the  dust  behind  the  door,  is  a  common  expression, 
and  a  common  practice  in  large  old  houses ;  where  the  doors  of 
halls  and  galleries  are  thrown  backward,  and  seldom  or  ever 
shut.     Farmer. 

1  Through  this  house  give  glimmering  light,"]  Milton  perhaps 
had  this  picture  in  his  thought: 

"  And  glowing  embers  through  the  room 

"  Teach  light  to  counterfeit  a  gloom."     //  Penseroso. 

So,  Drayton : 

"  Hence  shadows,  seeming  idle  shapes 
"  Of  little  frisking  elves  and  apes, 
"  To  earth  do  make  their  wanton  'scapes, 
"  As  hope  of  pastime  hastes  them." 

I  think  it  should  be  read : 

"  Through  this  house  in  glimmering  light."     Johnson. 

2 as  light  as  bird  from  brier  ;]  This  comparison  is  a  very 

ancient  one,  being  found  in  one  of  the  poems  of  Lawrence 
Minot,  p.  3 1 : 

"  That  are  was  blith  als  brid  on  brere."     Steevens. 


sc.  ii.  DREAM.  495 


SONG,  and  DANCE. 

Obe.  Now,  until  the  break  of  day,3 
Through  this  house  each  fairy  stray. 
To  the  best  bride-bed  will  we, 
Which  by  us  shall  blessed  be  ; 4 
And  the  issue,  there  create, 
Ever  shall  be  fortunate. 
So  shall  all  the  couples  three 
Ever  true  in  loving  be  : 


^  ■  Now,  until  &c]  This  speech,  which  both  the  old  quartos 
give  to  Oberon,  is  in  the  edition  of  1623,  and  in  all  the  follow- 
ing, printed  as  the  song.  I  have  restored  it  to  Oberon,  as  it 
apparently  contains  not  the  blessing  which  he  intends  to  bestow 
on  the  bed,  but  his  declaration  that  he  will  bless  it,  and  his  orders 
to  the  fairies  how  to  perform  the  necessary  rites.  But  where 
then  is  the  song  i — I  am  afraid  it  is  gone  after  many  other  things 
of  greater  value.  The  truth  is  that  two  songs  are  lost.  The 
series  of  the  scene  is  this ;  after  the  speech  of  Puck,  Oberon 
enters,  and  calls  his  fairies  to  a  song,  which  song  is  apparently 
wanting  in  all  the  copies.  Next  Titania  leads  another  song, 
which  is  indeed  lost  like  the  former,  though  the  editors  have  en- 
deavoured to  find  it.  Then  Oberon  dismisses  his  fairies  to  the 
despatch  of  the  ceremonies. 

The  songs,  I  suppose  were  lost,  because  they  were  not  in- 
serted in  the  players'  parts,  from  which  the  drama  was  printed. 

Johnson. 

4  To  the  best  bride-bed  will  we, 

Which  by  us  shall  blessed  be ;]    So,  in  Chaucer's  Mar- 
chantes  Tale,  Tyrwhitt's  edit.  v.  9693  : 

"  And  whan  the  bed  was  with  the  preest  yblessed — ." 

We  learn  also  from  "  Articles  ordained  by  King  Henry  VII. 
for  the  Regulation  of  his  Household,"  that  this  ceremony  was 
observed  at  the  marriage  of  a  Princess.  "  —  All  men  at  her 
comming  in  to  bee  voided,  except  woemen,  till  shee  bee  brought 
to  her  bedd ;  and  the  man  both  ;  he  sittinge  in  his  bedd  in  "his 
shirte,  with  a  gowne  cast  about  him.  Then  the  Bishoppe,  with 
the  Chaplaines,  to  come  in,  and  blesse  the  bedd :  then  everie  man 
to  avoide  without  any  drinke,  save  the  twoe  estates,  if  they  liste, 
priviely."  p.  129.     Steevens. 


496  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S        act  r. 

And  the  blots  of  nature's  hand 

Shall  not  in  their  issue  stand ; 

Never  mole,  hare-lip,5  nor  scar, 

Nor  mark  prodigious,6  such  as  are 

Despised  in  nativity, 

Shall  upon  their  children  be. — 

With  this  field-dew  consecrate, 

Every  fairy  take  his  gait ; 7 

And  each  several  chamber  bless,8 

Through  this  palace  with  sweet  peace  : 

5 hare-lip,]  This  defect  in  children  seems  to  have  beer* 

so  much  dreaded,  that  numerous  were  the  charms  applied  for  its 
prevention.  The  following  might  be  as  efficacious  as  any  of  the 
rest.  "  If  a  woman  with  chylde  have  her  smocke  slyt  at  the 
neather  ende  or  skyrt  thereof,  &c.  the  same  chylde  that  she  then 
goeth  withall,  shall  be  safe  from  having  a  cloven  or  hare  lippe" 
Thomas  Lupton's  Fourth  Book  of  Notable  Thingcs,  4to.  bl.  1. 

Steevens. 

6  Nor  mark  prodigious,]    Prodigious  has  here  its  primitive 
signification  of  portentous.     So,  in  King  Richard  III  : 

"  If  ever  he  have  child,  abortive  be  it, 

"  Prodigious,  and  untimely  brought  to  light."  Steevens. 

7  take  his  gait;]  i.  e.  take  his  tvay,  or  direct  his  steps. 

So,  in  Spenser's  Fairy  Queen,  B.  I.  c.  viii : 

"  And  guide  his  weary  gate  both  to  and  fro." 
Again,  in  a  Scottish  Proverb  : 

"  A  man  may  speer  the  gate  to  Rome." 
Again,  in  The  Mercer's  Play,  among  the  Chester  collection 
of  Whitsun  Mysteries,  p.  —  : 

"  Therefore  goe  not  through  his  cuntrey, 

"  Nor  the  gate  you  came  to  day." 
Again,  and  more  appositely,  in  one  of  the  poems  of  Lawrence 
Minot,  p.  50 : 

"  Take  thi  gate  unto  Gines, 

"  And  grete  tham  wele  thare ; "     Steevens. 

By  gate,  I  believe,  is  meant,  the  door  of  each  chamber. 

M.  Mason. 

Gait,  for  a  path  or  road,  is  commonly  used  at  present  in  the 
northern  counties.     Harris. 

•  Every  fairy  take  his  gait ; 
And  each  several  chamber  bless,  &c]    The  same  superstitious 


sc.  ii.  DREAM.  497 

E'er  shall  it  in  safety  rest, 
And  the  owner  of  it  blest. 

Trip  away; 

Make  no  stay ; 
Meet  me  all  by  break  of  day. 

[Exeunt  Oberon,  Titania,  and  Train. 

Puck.  If  we  shadows  have  offended. 

Think  but  this,  {and  all  is  mended?) 
That  you  have  but  slumber* d  here, 
While  these  visions  did  appear. 
And  this  weak  and  idle  theme, 
No  more  yielding  but  a  dream, 
Gentles,  do  not  reprehend; 
If  you  pardon,  we  will  mend. 
And,  as  Tm  an  honest  Puck,9 
If  we  have  unearned  luck l 
Now  to  'scape  the  serpent's  tongue? 
We  will  make  amends,  ere  long : 

kind  of  benediction  occurs  in  Chaucer's  Miller's  Tale,  v.  3479, 

Tyrwhitt's  edition : 

"  I  crouche  thee  from  elves,  and  from  wightes. 

"  Thenvith  the  nightspel  said  he  anon  rightes 

"  On  foure  halves  of  the  hous  aboute, 

"  And  on  the  threswold  of  the  dore  withoute. 

"  Jesu  Cris;,  and  Seint  Benedight, 

"  Blisse  this  hous  from  every  wicked  wight, 

"  Fro  the  nightes  mare,  the  wite  Paternoster,"  &c. 

Steevens. 

9 an  honest  Puck,]  See  Mr.  Tyrwhitt's  note,  &c.  Act  II. 

sc.  i.  on  the  words — "  siveet  Puck."     Steevens. 


1 unearned  tuck — ]    i.  e.  if  we  have  better  fortune  than 

we  have  deserved.     Steevens. 

2  AW*  fa  'scape  the  serpent's  tongue,}  That  is,  if  we  be  dismissed 
without  h^scs.     Johnson. 

So,  in  J.  Markhain's  English  Arcadia,  1607 : 
"  But  the   nymph,   after   the   custom   of  distrest  tragedians, 
whose  first  act  is  entertained  with  a  snaky  salutation,"  &c. 

Steevens. 

VOL.  IV.  K  K 


498  MIDSUMMER-NIGHTS        act  y. 

Else  the  Puck  a  liar  call. 

So,  good  night  unto  you  all. 

Give  me  your  hands?  if  we  befriends, 

And  Robin  shall  restore  amends. 

[Exit.4 

3  Give  me  your  hands,]  That  is,  Clap  your  hands.  Give  us 
your  applause.     Johnson. 

4  Wild  and  fantastical  as  this  play  is,  all  the  parts  in  their 
various  modes  are  well  written,  and  give  the  kind  of  pleasure 
which  the  author  designed.  Fairies  in  his  time  were  much  in 
fashion  ;  common  tradition  had  made  them  familiar,  and  Spen- 
ser's poem  had  made  them  great.     Johnson. 

Johnson's  concluding  observation  on  this  play,  is  not  con- 
ceived with  his  usual  judgment.  There  is  no  analogy  or  re- 
semblance whatever  between  the  Fairies  of  Spenser,  and  those 
of  Shakspeare.  The  Fairies  of  Spenser,  as  appears  from  his  de- 
scription of  them  in  the  second  book  of  the  Fairy  Queen, 
canto  x.  were  a  race  of  mortals  created  by  Prometheus,  of  the 
human  size,  shape,  and  affections,  and  subject  to  death.  But 
those  of  Shakspeare,  and  of  common  tradition,  as  Johnson  calls 
them,  were  a  diminutive  race  of  sportful  beings,  endowed  with 
immortality  and  supernatural  power,  totally  different  from  those 
of  Spenser.    M.  Mason. 


See  pp.369,  370,  371. 

And  heard  a  mermaid,  on  a  dolphin's  bach,  &c.  &c.  &c]  Dr. 
Warburton,  whose  ingenuity  and  acuteness  have  been  long  ad- 
mired, is  now,  I  believe,  pretty  generally  thought  to  have  some- 
times seen  not  only  what  no  other  person  would  ever  have  been 
able  to  discover,  but  what,  in  reality,  unless  in  his  own  playful 
imagination,  did  not  exist.  Criticism  is  a  talisman,  which  has, 
on  more  than  one  occasion,  dispelled  the  illusion  of  this  mighty 
magician.  I  shall  not  dispute,  that,  by  the  fair  vestal,  Shak- 
speare intended  a  compliment  to  Queen  Elizabeth,  who,  I  am 
willing  to  believe,  at  the  age  of  sixty-eight,  was  no  less  chaste 
than  beautiful;  but  whether  any  other  part  of  Oberon's  speech 
have  an  allegorical  meaning  or  not,  I  presume,  in  direct  opposi- 
tion to  Dr.  Warburton,  to  contend  that  it  agrees  with  any  other 


DREAM.  499 

rather  than  with  Mary  Queen  of  Scots.  The  "  mixture  of 
satire  and  panegyrick"  I  shall  examine  anon:  I  only  wish  to 
know,  for  the  present,  why  it  would  have  been  *'  inconvenient 
for  the  author  to  speak  openly"  in  "dispraise"  of  the  Scotish 
Queen.  If  he  meant  to  please  "  the  imperial  votress,"  no  in- 
cense could  have  been  half  so  grateful  as  the  blackest  calumny. 
But,  it  seems,  "  her  successor  would  not  forgive  her  satirist." 
Who  then  was  her  "successor"  when  this  play  was  written  ? 
Mary's  son,  James  ?  I  am  persuaded  that,  had  Dr.  Warburton 
been  better  read  in  the  history  of  those  times,  he  would  not  have 
found  this  monarch's  succession  quite  so  certain,  at  that  period, 
as  to  have  prevented  Shakspeare,  who  was  by  no  means  the  re- 
fined speculatist  he  would  induce  one  to  suppose,  from  gratifying 
the  "  fair  vestal"  with  sentiments  so  agreeable  to  her.  How- 
ever, if  "  the  poet  has  so  well  marked  out  every  distinguishing 
circumstance  of  her  life  and  character,  in  this  beautiful  allegory, 
as  will  leave  no  room  to  doubt  about  his  secret  meaning,"  there 
is  an  end  of  all  controversy.  For,  though  the  satire  would  be 
cowardly,  false,  and  infamous,  yet,  since  it  was  couched  under 
an  allegory,  which,  while  perspicuous  as  glass  to  Elizabeth, 
would  have  become  opake  as  a  mill-stone  to  her  successor,  Shak- 
speare, lying  as  snug  as  his  own  Ariel  in  a  cowslip's  bell,  would 
have  had  no  reason  to  apprehend  any  ill  consequences  from  it. 
Now,  though  our  speculative  bard  might  not  be  able  to  foresee 
the  sagacity  of  the  Scotish  king  in  smelling  out  a  plot,  as  I  be- 
lieve it  was  some  years  after  that  he  gave  any  proof  of  his  ex- 
cellence that  way,  he  could  not  but  have  heard  of  his  being  an 
admirable  witch-finder ;  and,  surely,  the  skill  requisite  to  detect 
a  witch  must  be  sufficient  to  develope  an  allegory ;  so  that  I 
must  needs  question  the  propriety  of  the  compliment  here  paid 
to  the  poet's  prudence.  Queen  Mary  "  is  called  a  Mermaid, 
1.  to  denote  her  reign  over  a  kingdom  situate  in  the  sea."  In 
that  respect  at  least  Elizabeth  was  as  much  a  mermaid  as  herself. 
"  And  2.  her  beauty  and  intemperate  lust ;  for  as  Elizabeth  for 
her  chastity  is  called  a  Vestal,  this  unfortunate  lady,  on  a  contrary 
account,  is  called  a  mermaid."  All  this  is  as  false  as  it  is  foolish  : 
The  mermaid  was  never  the  emblem  of  lust ;  nor  was  the  "  gen- 
tle Shakspeare"  of  a  character  or  disposition  to  have  insulted  the 
memory  of  a  murdered  princess  by  so  infamous  a  charge.  The 
most  abandoned  libeler,  even  Buchanan  himself,  never  accused 
her  of  "  intemperate  lust ;"  and  it  is  pretty  well  understood  at 
present  that,  if  either  of  these  ladies  were  remarkable  for  her 

Eurity,  it  was  not  Queen  Elizabeth.  "  3.  An  ancient  story  may 
e  supposed  to  be  here  alluded  to :  the  Emperor  Julian  tells  u* 
that  the  Sirens  (which  with  all  the  modern  poets  are  mermaids) 
contended  for  precedency  with  the  Muses,  who   overcoming; 

K  K  2 


500  MIDSUMMER-NIGHT'S 

them  took  away  their  wings."     Can  any  thing  be  more  ridi- 
culous?   Mermaids  are  half  women    and  h&\i' Jishes :    where 
then  are  their  wings  ?  or  what  possible  use  could  they  make  of 
them  if  they  had  any  ?  The  Sirens  which  Julian  speaks  of  were 
partly  women  and  partly  birds :  so  that  "  the  pollusion,"  as 
good-man  Dull  hath  it,  by  no  means  "  holds  in  the  exchange." 
"  The  quarrels  between  Mary  and  Elizabeth  had  the  same  cause 
and  the  same  issue."     That  is,  they  contended  for  precedency, 
and  Elizabeth  overcoming  took  away  the  others  wings.     The 
secret  of  their  contest  for  precedency  should  seem  to  have  been 
confined  to  Dr.  Warburton :  It  would  be  in  vain  to  enquire 
after  it  in  the  history  of  the  time.     The  Queen  of  Scots,  in- 
deed, flew  for  refuge  to  her  treacherous  rival,   (who  is  here 
again  the  mermaid  of  the  allegory,  alluring  to  destruction,  by 
her  songs  or  fair  speeches,)  and  wearing,  it  should  seem,  like  a 
cherubim,  her  wings  on  her  neck,  Elizabeth,  who  was  deter- 
mined she  should  fly  no  more,  in  her  eagerness  to  tear  them 
away,  happened  inadvertently  to  take  off  her  head.     The  situa- 
tion of  the  poet's  mermaid,  on  a  dolphins  back,  "  evidently 
marks  out  that  distinguishing  circumstance  in  Mary's  fortune, 
her  marriage  with  the  dauphin  of  France."     A  mermaid  would 
seem  to  have  but  a  strangely  aukward  seat  on  the  back  of  a 
dolphin  ;  but  that,  to  be  sure,  is  the  poet's  affair,  and  not  the 
commentators :  the  latter,  however,  is  certainly  answerable  for 
placing  a  Queen  on  the  back  of  her  husband :  a  very  extraor- 
dinary situation  one  would  think,  for  a  married  lady ;  and  of 
which  I  only  recollect  a  single  instance,  in  the  common  print  of 
"  a  poor  man  loaded  with  mischief."     Mermaids  are  supposed 
to  sing,  but  their  dulcet  and  harmonious  breath  must  in  this  in- 
stance to  suit  the  allegory,  allude  to  "  those  great  abilities  of 
genius  and  learning,"  which  rendered  Queen  Mary  "  the  most 
accomplished  princess  of  her  age."     This  compliment  could  not 
fail  of  being  highly  agreeable  to  the  "  fair  Vestal."     "  By  the 
rude  sea  is  meant  Scotland  incircled  with  the  ocean,  which  rose 
up  in  arms  against  the  regent,  while  she  [Mary]  was  in  France. 
But  her  return  home  quieted  these  disorders:  and  had -not 'her 
strange  ill  conduct  afterwards  more  violently  inflamed  them,  she 
might  have  passed  her  whole  life  in  peace."     Dr.  Warburton, 
whose  skill  in  geography  seems  to  match  his  knowledge  of  his- 
tory and  acuteness  in  allegory,  must  be  allowed  the  sole  merit  of 
discovering  Scotland  to  be  an  island.     But,  as  to  the  disorders 
of  that  country  being  quieted  by  the  Queen's  return,  it  appears 
from  history  to  be  full  as  peaceable  before  as  it  is  at  any  time 
after  that  event.     Whether,  in  the  revival  or  continuance  of 
these  disorders,  she,  or  her  ideot  husband,  or  fanatical  subjects 
were  most  to  blame,  is  a  point  upon  which  doctors  still  differ^; 


DREAM.  501 

but,  it  is  evident,  that,  if  the  enchanting  song  of  the  commenta- 
tor's mermaid  civilized  the  rude  sea  for  a  time,  it  was  only  to 
render  it,  in  an  instant,  more  boisterous  than  ever  :  those  great 
abilities  of  genius  and  learning,  which  rendered  her  the  most  ac- 
complished princess  of  her  age,  not  availing  her  among  a  parcel 
of  ferocious  and  enthusiastic  barbarians,  whom  even  the  lyre  of 
Orpheus  had  in  vain  warbled  to  humanize.  Brantome,  who 
accompanied  her,  says  she  was  welcomed  home  by  a  mob  of 
five  or  six  hundred  ragamuffins,  who,  in  discord  with  the  most 
execrable  instruments,  sung  psalms  (which  she  was  supposed  to 
dislike)  under  her  chamber  window:  He!  adds  he,  quelle 
musique  8$  quelle  repos  pour  sa  nuit  /"  However,  it  seems 
"  there  is  great  justness  and  beauty  in  this  image,  as  the  vulgar 
opinion  is,  that  the  mermaid  always  sings  in  storms.'*  "  The 
vulgar  opinion,"  I  am  persuaded,  is  peculiar  to  the  ingenious 
commentator ;  as,  if  the  mermaid  is  ever  supposed  to  sing,  it 
is  in  calms,  which  presage  storms.  I  can  perceive  no  propriety 
in  calling  the  insurrection  of  the  Northern  earls  the  quarrel  of 
Queen  Mary,  unless  in  so  far  as  it  was  that  of  the  religion  she 
professed.  But  this  perhaps  is  the  least  objectionable  part  of  a 
chimerical  allegory  of  which  the  poet  himself  had  no  idea,  and 
which  the  commentator,  to  whose  creative  fancy  it  owes  its 
existence,  seems  to  have  very  justly  characterized,  in  telling  us 
it  is  "  out  of  nature  ;"~that  is,  as  I  conceive,  perfectly  ground- 
less and  unnatural.     Ritson. 


END  OF  VOL.  IV. 


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