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0^ 





THE WORKS 



OF 



SHAKESPEARE 



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• • ••• 
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THE HENRY IRVING SHAKESPEARE. 



THE WOEKS 



OF 



WILLIAM SHAKE SPEAEE 

EDITED BY 

HENRY IRVING and FRANK A. MARSHALL. 

WITH 

NOTES AND INTRODUCTIONS TO EACH PLAY BY F. A. MARSHALL 

AND OTHER SHAKESPEARIAN SCHOLARS, 



AND 






• •••' - * • : * 



I* . • t t 



Numerous Illustration^ uy "Gc^RDoy BROWNE. 






• • • • I ... 



• • 



* . . • • ' 



VOLUME VII. 




LONDON: 
BLACKIE & SOX, 49 i^- 50 OLD BAILEY, EC; 

GLASGOW, EDINBURGH, AND DUBLIN. 

1890. 



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OLASQOW : 

W. a. BULCKIE AND CO., PBINTER8, 

VILLAmU). 



PEEFATOEY NOTE. 



I regret to say that continued ill-health has not only caused unav^oid- 
able delay in the issue of this v^olume, but has enforced a further 
postponement of the play of Hamlet to vol viii., and has compelled me 
to confine my share of the work to a few notes, which bear my initials. 

I have to express my gratitude to all my colleagues who, under these 
circumstances, have kindly supplied my place; without whose loyal aid, 
indeed, the volume could not have made its appeai'ance. Amongst them 
I may thank especially my two friends, Mr. A. Wilson Verity and Mr. 
Arthui' Symons, the former of whom edited Titus Andronicus, while the 
latter collated and annotated The Tempest and edited The Winter's Tale. 
For the introduction to The Tempest I am indebted to the kindness and 
ability of Mr. Richard Gamett; and to Mr. H^A^E>ans I. owe thanks for 
his editorial work on Timon of Athens and Oymbeiine. But most of all 
am I indebted to my old friend Mr. Jx)8<5p?i Knight for kindly under- 
taking, amidst many other engagements, the staga histories — a branch 
of the subject on which there is no higher aptnoiity than he. 

The illustrations for The Tempest have been furnished by Mr. 
Gordon Browne; the other plays in the volume have been illustrated 
by Mr. W. H. Margetson, Mr. Frank Dadd, and Mr. Maynard Brown. 
All the illustrations for Volume viii. will be designed by Mr. Gordon 
Browne. 

I may be forgiven if I refer for a moment to myself. I cannot pass 

this opportunity of thanking the countless friends who, from all quarters 

of the world, have, during the last three months, wished me God-speed 

towards recovery. Most of them are perfect strangers to me, but for 

their kindly expressed wishes for my renewed health I thank them from 

the bottom of my heart. 

F. A. MARSHALL. 

London, Dee, 1889, 



CONTENTS. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. Illustrated by W. H. Maroetson, . 
CYMBELINE. Illustrated by Frank Dadd, 



THE TEMPEST. Illustrated by Gordon Browne, . 
TITUS ANDRONICUS. Illustrated by W. H. Maroetson, 
THE WINTER'S TALE. Illustrated by Maynard Brown, 



Page 
1 

76 

173 
251 
309 



PASSAGES AND SCENES ILLUSTRATED. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



14 
15 

22 



Vignette, 

Act L scene 1. lines 39, 40, 

Ptdm. How this loixl b follow'd ! 
FoeL Tbeienatonof Athviu:— bftppy 

Act L scene 2. lines 137, 138, . 

A pern. Hoy-day, what a awMp of ranlty conuw this vay i 
Thej danoe I thaj an mad vomen. 

Act IL scene 2. lines 7, 8, 25 

yioM. What ihall bo doao? ho wiU not hear. UU feel : 
I miMt be TMmd with him, now he come* from hunting. 

Act IL scene 2. lines 161-163, . 27 

Flav. O mj good lord, the worid ie but a word : 
Weiv it all youn to giro it in a breath. 
How quickly were it gone! 

Act III. scene 1. lines 50, 51, . 80 

Flam. Fly, damned baeeneai, 

To him that wonhlpt thee! 

Act HI. scene 4. line 80, 34 

Tim. What, an my doon oppoe'd againit my paaiage? 

Act III. scene 6. lines 109, 110, . 37 

Tim. What, doat thou go? 

Soft ! take thy phytio fint,— thou too,— and thou. 



Act IV. scene 1. lines 21-23, 

Tim. Plagues incident to men. 

Your potent and infecUoua feven heap 
On Athena, ripe for itioke ! 

Act IV. scene 3. line 53, 

Tim, I am Jf iaanlfcropoa, and hate miiUnii, 



39 



41 



47 



Act IV. scene 3. lines 373-375, . 

Tim. Away, 

Thou tedioua rogue! I'm iorry I ehall loie 
A atuoe by thee. 



Act IV. scene 3. lines 497-499, {Etching) 49 

rim. Had I a iteward 
So true, 80 juat, and now eo comfortable? 
It almost tuma my dangeroua natnn wild. 

Act V. scene 1. lines 31, 32, . .50 

Tim. [Atidt] Excellent workman I thou canst not 
paint a man so bad as is thyself. 

Act V. scene 3. lines 5, 6, . . 54 

Sold. What s on this tomb 

I cannot read; the character I '11 take with wax. 

Tailpiece, .56 

Vignette, .74 



VUl 



CX)NTENTS. 



CYMBELINE. 



Act I. scene 1. line 125, . . .89 

Cjpn. Thou baaect thing, aroid ! hence, from my right I 

Act L scene 4. lines 136-138, . . 95 

PoU. "What lady would you chooee to aanil? 

/ddk. Toun; whom in ouuitancy you think stands to lafe. 

Act I. scene 5. line 5, . . .97 

Cor. Pleaseth your highnen, ay: here they an, madam. 

Act I. scene 6. lines 135, 136, . .101 

Jack, Rerenge it. 

1 dedicate myidf to your mreet pleasure. 

Act II. scene 2. lines 11-14, . . 104 

laeh. The crickets sing, and manV o'erlabour'd sense 
Kepain itself by rest. Our Tarquin thus 
Did softly press the rushes, ere he waken'd 
The chai^ty he wounded. 

Act II. scene 4. line 147, . . 109 

PotL O, that I had her here, to tear her limb-meal ! 

Act IIL scene 3. lines 73-75, . .114 

BeU But, up to the mountains ! 

This is not hunters' language :— he that strikes 
The venison first shall be the lord o' the feast. 



Act III. scene 4. lines 68-70, 

Into. look! 

I draw the swunl myself : take it, and hie 
The innocent manrion of my lore, my heart 



117 



Act IIL scene 6. lines 24-26, . .121 

Imo. Ho !— Nu answer? then I '11 enter. 

Best draw my sword ; and if mine enemy 
But fear the sword like me, he 11 scarcely look on 't. 

Act IV. scene 2. lines 74, 75, . . 125 

Cto. Thou art a roblier. 

A law-breaker, a villain : yield thee, thief. 

Act rV. scene 2. lines 368-370, . .130 

Imo. This was my master, 

A very valiant Briton and a good. 
That here by mountaineers lies slain. 

Act V. scene 3. lines 23, 24, . .135 

PotL Made good the paiisage; cried to those that fled, 
" Our Britain's harts die flying, not our men. " 

Act V. scene 4. lines 1, 2, . .137 

Firtt Gaol. Yuu shall not now be siol'n, you 've locks 
upon you; 
So graze as you find pasture. 



Act V. scene 5. lines 263, 264, . 

Post. Hang there like fruit, my soul. 

Till the tree die! 



143 



Act V. scene 5. lines 417, 418, (Etching) 145 

P<nt. Kneel not to me : 

The power that I have on you is to spare you. 



THE TEMPEST. 



Act I. scene 2. lines 146-148, . . 189 

Pros. A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd. 
Nor tackle, sail, nor mast ; the very rats 
Instinctively have quit it. 

Act I. scene 2. lines 5-8, . . 191 

Mir. O. I have snflStr'd 

With those that I saw sulhr! a brave vessel, 
Who had, no doubt, some noble creatures in her, 
Uash'd all to pieces. 

Act I. scene 2. lines 189, 190, . . 194 



Ari. All haiU great master I grave rir. haill I come 
To answer thy best pleasure. 



Act L scene 2. lines 344-346, 



197 



■Pros. Thou moet lying slave. 

Whom stripes may move, not kindness I I have ns'd thee. 
Filth as thou art, with human care. 

Act I. scene 2. line 387, . . .199 

Fer. Where should this music be? i* the air or the earth? 



Act I. scene 2. lines 464-466, . 

P«r. Ko; 

I will resJrt such entertainment till 
Mine enemy has men power. 



200 



Act II. scene 2. lines 25-28, . . 206 

Trin. What have we here? a man or a fluh? dead 
or alive? A Ibh: he smells like a fish; a very ancient 
and fish-like smell : a kind of, not of the newest, 
Poor-John. 

Act IL scene 2. line 192, . . 209 

au. O brave monsterl lead the way. 

Act III. scene 1. lines 68-70, . . 211 

Ftr. O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this sound. 
And crown what 1 iirofess with kind event. 
If I speak true ! 

Act III. scene 2. lines 83-85, . . 213 

Ari. Thou liest. 

.Sis. Do I so? take thou that \$trikea Trinadol As 
you like this, give me the lie another time. 

Act III. scene 2. lines 146-149, . . 214 

Cat. Sometimes a thousand twangling instruments 
Will hum aTwat mine ears; and sometimes voices. 
That, if I then had wak'd after long sleep. 
Will make mr sleep again. 



Act III. scene 3, . 



215 



CONTENTS. 



IX 



Act rV. scene 1. lines 256-258. 



220 



Pr»$. Hey. Mountain, hey ! 

Ari. S^ilrrr '. th«re it goe«, Silrer! 

Pro$. Fury, Foxy! there. Tyrant, there! harit, hark!' 



Act V. scene 1. line 91, . 

a rC On the bat'a back I do fly. 



. 223 



Act v. scene 1. line 172, (Etching) 225 

Mir. Sweet lord, you play me false. 

Act V. scene 1, . . . .226 

Re-tnUr AuiKUt with the Matter and Boatttpain 
amoMdUif f'jttotring. 

Tailpiece, . . .228 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



Tailpiece, . . .260 

Act I. scene 1. line 163, . 261 

Lav. O. bleu me here with thy victorious hand. 

Act II. scene 1. lines 43, 44, . . 269 

Chi. Meanwhile, sir, with the little skill I have. 
Fall well Shalt thou perceive how much I dare. 

Act II. scene 3. line 185, . . 274 

Chi. Nay. then I II stop your mouth.— Bring thou her 
husband. 



Act IV. scene 1. line 77, 

TU. 0, do ye read, my lord, what she hath writ? 

Act V. scene 1. lines 37, 38, 

Sec. Goth. With thlK, my weapon drawn, 1 rush'd 
upon him, 
Surpris'd him suddenly. 

Act V. scene 2. line 167, 

TiL Come, come, Lavinia, look, thy foes are bound. 

Tailpiece, .... 



283 
291 



295 
299 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



Act I. scene 1. lines 6-8^ . 321 

Cam. I think, this coming summer, the King of 
Hirilia means to pay Bohemia the visitation which 
he justly owes him. 

Act I. scene 2. lines 56, 57, . 323 

PoL Tour guest, then, madam: 

To be your priatMier should import offending. 

Act I. scene 2. lines 299, 300, . . 327 

JLeon. It is; you lie, you lie : 

I ny thoa Ueit, Camillo, and I hate thee. 

Act II. scene 1. lines 1, 2, . . 330 

Htr. Take the boy to you : he so troublea me, 
Tis past enduring. 

Act IL scene 2. lines 26-29, . 334 

EpuI. a daughter; and a goodly babe, 

Lusty, and like to live : the queen receives 
Much comfort in 't; says, " My poor prisoner, 
I am innocent as you.* 

Act II. scene 3. lines 125, 126, . . 337 

Paul. I pray you, do not push me: 1 11 be gone. 
U>ak to your babe, my lord; 't is yours. 

Act III. scene 2. lines 149, 150, . 341 

PnmL This news is mortal to the qu«en : look down. 
And see what death is doing. 



Act IIL scene 3. lines 69-71, . . 344 

Shep. Good luck, an 't be thy will ! what have we 
here? Mercy on 's, a bame; a very pretty 1»anic ! 

Act rV. scene 3. lines 79, 80, . . 347 

AuL Softly, dear tir[piek» his ftoekttjn good sir, softly. 
You ha' done me a charitable office. 

Act IV. scene 4. lines 166, 167, . . 351 

Pol. Pray, goml shepherd, what fair swain is this 
Which dances with your daughter? 

Act IV. scene 4. line 394, . . 354 

Shep. Take hands, a bargain I 

Act IV. scene 4. lines 733-736, . . 359 

AuL ]jet me iwcket up my pedler's excrement [ Taku 
cifhia faltt bcari. J Uow now, rustics ! whither are yon 
bound? 

Act V. scene 1. lines 207, 208, . . 364 

Leon. My lord. 

Is this the daughter of a king ? 

Act V. scene 3. lines 79, 80, {Etching) 368 

Leon. Let no man mock me. 

For I wUl kiss her. 

Act V. scene 3. lines 120, 121, . . 369 

Panl Turn, good lady; 

Our Perdita is found. 



TIMON OF ATHENS 



NOTES AND INTRODUCTION BY 
H. A. EVANS. 



roi,. VII. *•'' 



DRAMATIS PERSONuE. 



TiMON, of Athena. 

Lucius, -v 

LucuLLUs, j- flattering lords. 

SemproxiuSjJ 

Ventidius, one of Timon'a false friends. 

Alcibiades, an Athenian captain. 

Apemantus, a churlish philuso])her. 

Flavius, steward to Tiuion. 

Poet, Painter, Jeweller, and Merchant 

An old Athenian. 

II^'IU8,^ 

LI us, j-servi 
Servilius, J 
Caphis, 
Philotus, 
Titus, Vaervants to Timon's creditora 

HORTENSIUS, 

And others, 

A Page. A Fool. Three Strangers. 



Flamixius,' 

LuciLius, I- servants to Timon. 



Phrtnia, 

TiMAXDRA 



j-mi 



mistresses to Alcibiades. 



CHi]jid and Amaz(.)ns in the mask. 
Other Lords. Senators, Ofiicers, Soldiei's, Hiuiditti, and Attendanta 



Scene — Athens and the woods not far from it 



Historic Period : The fourth centur\' b.c. 



TIME OF ACTION (according to Daniel). 



Six days, with one considerable interval. 

Day 1 : Act I. SccncH 1 and 2. 
Day 2: Act II. Sfcnoa 1 and 2; Act III. Scenes 1-3. 
Day 3: Act III. Seencs 4 and 5; Act IV. Scenes 1 
and 2. — Interval. 
2 



Day 4: Act IV. Scene 3. 
Day 5 : Act V. Scenes 1 and 2. 
Day 6 : Act V. Scenes 3 and 4. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



INTKODUCTION. 



LITERARY HISTORY. 

Tiraoii of Athens was firat printed in the 
Folio of lf)23, where it is entitled **The Life of 
T\Tnon of Alliens," and no scrap of evidence 
, as to the existence of the play earlier than 
this isi to be found. The text is frequently 
corruj)t, and its history is remarkably ob- 
jjciiiv. No one now maintains that the whole 
|»lav is the work of Shakespeare; that about 
half is his, and that the other half is the com- 
pcwitinn of an inferior writer, has been accepted 
a-* an establiMhe<l fact by all mtxleni critics. 
Xor has there been any wide divergence of 
opinion as to what jjarts are Shakes])eare'8 and 
what not; the question in dispute has been 
how the pby came to assume the sliape in 
which we find it in the Folio. Did Sliake- 
spture revise an older play, or was his work 
left unfinished and fille<l out into a five-act 
play by sf)meone else ? 

Before attempting to answer this c^uestion 
it will lie well to gbmce at the sources from 
wliioh the story is t^iken. Tliese are three: a 
I^asage in Plutarch's Life of Marcus Antiinius; 
ftiiuter's Pahvce of Pleasure, novel 28; and 
Laciaii'rt Diak»gue, Timon. Timon is twice 
nientione<l in Aristophanes;^ but the earliest 
acconnt uf him ?is a historic^d character occurs 
ill Plutiirch s Antonius,* which Shakesi)eare 
was probably reading about 1606 for his An- 
t'>nv and Cleopjitra. Here he would find a 
brief account of Tiinon's misanthropical ways, 
one or two of his smart sayings, and his epi- 
taph. Plutarch — whom Painter merely re- 
pTfnluwA—asLys nothing of Timon's life iKjfore 
he tunieil man-hater, and gives us but the 
merwt hint of the causes which gave rise to 

' -Sm note 1 at the end of the pUy. 

^ PluUrch has another mention of Timon in his life of 
Aldbisiltfs (c 4), where the anecdote tuld of tiini looks 
IflK ft fuller rervion of the one told in the life of Antonius. | 



his loathing for his fellow-creatures: "An- 
tonius, he forsooke the citie and comi)anie of 
his friends, an<l built liim a house in the sea by 
the He of Pharos, vpon certain forced mounts 
which he caused to ]>e cast into the sea, and 
dwelt there as a man that banisheil himself 
from all mens comixmie: saying that he would 
leadeTimons life, l)ecausehehad the like wix>ng 
offered him, that wjis before offered vnto 
Timon: and that for the vnthankfulnesse of 
those he liad done go^nl vnto, and whom he 
tooke to l)e his friends, he was angrie with all 
men and would trust no man" (N«)i*th*s Plu- 
tarch, M. Antonius, c. 3M). For further details 
we must go to Lucian's Dialogue, Timon or 
Misjinthi'oiK)s,3 and here we find a picture of 
Timon which ban evidently furnished the 
framework of the j>lay. The outline of the 
Dialogue, so far as it concerns our present pur- 
pose, is as follows: — Timon is a wealthy open- 
handed citizen of Athens, who had kept up 
great state aiul liad raised many of his friends 
to affluence through his liberality. His un- 
stinted generosity at last reduces him ti> po- 
verty, but it is in vain for him to appeal to 
their compassion; they one and all turn their 
backs uiKin him. Accordingly he takes up a 
s^iade and goes out into the countrj', where he 
endeavours to earn a few pence by hiring him- 
self out as a labourer. One day when he is 
digging he comes upon a treasure of gold coins. 
So he resolves to ])urchase the estate on which 
he has matle his discovery and build a tower 
for liimself and his money, where he will live 
the life of a misjinthix>)>e, and be known for 
his moroeeness, liarshness, l)oorishness, ill- 
temper, and inhumanity. But the news of 
his good fortune isnot long in reaching Athens, 
ami his former acquaintances come fiocking 

* A versiAed paraphrase of this Dialogue will be foun<l 
in T. Hey wood's Pleasant DialoKues and Dranima's, 1U37 
(Works, 1874, voL vL pp. Ibb-VJI). 

3 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



forth to congratulate him, and get what they 
can to take home again. One of them, Thra- 
tticles, the philosopher, is the prototype of 
Ai>emantu8. He pretends that he has not 
come like the rest to see wliat he can get fn>m 
Timon by smooth words; he is a man of sim- 
ple tastes; his food is barley-bread, an onion, 
a few cresses, with a little salt Ijesides on a 
feast-day, his drink pure water from the spring, 
his dress a simple cloak, while for money he 
cares no more than for the pebbles on the sea- 
shore. With an evident eye to his own inter- 
est he tries to i>er8uade Timon to abandon his 
wealth; but Timon sends him about his busi- 
ness, as he has already sent the others, with a 
bn)ken head. 

Now here are at least three things not men- 
tioned by Plutiirch: first, Timon's lavish gene- 
rosity, and subsequent desertion by his friends 
in his hour of need (this is at most hinted at 
in Plutarch); secondly, his discovery of a trea- 
sui*e anil the reai)ijearance of his friends in con- 
sequence; and thiixily, the character of Tliiusi- 
cles. But these ]X)ints liave not l>een introduced 
into the non-Shakespearian j)art« of the play 
alone, they api)ear in the Shakesi>earian por- 
tion as well; and therefore Shakes])eare must 
have been ac(iuainte<l with Lucian's story in 
some sha])e or other. No translation of the 
Dialogue either in English or French existed in 
his day, but we need not supi)ose him to have 
ever read the Dialogue itself ; an adaptation 
of the storv would be all that would be neces- 
Bar}' ; and this he would find ready to hand, if 
there alreaily existed a play on the subject of 
Timon founded u^xtn Lucian and actually in 
Ix)ssession of the stage. The existence of some 
such i)lay was first assumed by Knight, whose 
theory has l>een accepted by Staunton, the Clam- 
bridge editors, and Delius, and offers a satisfac- 
tory explaiuition of the relationship of our play 
to Luci^ui.' It is just this which the theory 

1 A pUy called Timon. auigned by Steevens to the year 
160O or thereabouts, and evidently intended for represen- 
tation before an academical audience, was printed by Dyce 
fur the (old) Shakespeare Society in 1342, and is reprinted 
in Hazlitt's edition of (Collier's Shalcespeare Library. The 
writer of this play seems also to have been indebted to 
Lucian, for Timon takes to the woods and disni up trea- 
sure; but there are only two points wtiich give us any 
reason to suppose it has any connection with our play— 

4 



advocated by Fleay and others leaves imex- 
plained. These critics, while assigning parts 
of the story undeniably drawn from Lucian — 
such as Timon's munificence, his discovery of 
gold, and his treatment of his visitors in the 
woods — to Shake8]>eare, do not explain how 
he became acquainted with them. The other 
theory presents no difticulty on this point. "We 
assume that during his reading of Plutarch 
Shakespeare's attention was arrested by the 
story of Timon ; that it struck him that the char- 
acter of Timon might be made effective for the 
stage, and that not having time or inclination 
towork up a complete plot into a regular five- 
act play he availetl himself of a "Timon" 
which was in the hands of his theatre at the 
time. This play had perhaps been a failure 
in its existing shape, and the company were 
therefore glad to embrace Sliakespeare's offer 
to remodel it. Accordingly he rewrote about 
half of it, and hastily revised the rest, leav- 
ing this for the most part untoucheil, but 
inserting or altering a few lines or phrases 
here and there. But before he had had time 
to give the whole a final revision it was called 
for by the manager, and hurried upon the 
boanls. These assumptions will account both 
for the general unity of plan as well as for the 
signs of incomplete revision observable here 
and there.'-* 

We must now briefly notice Mr. Fleaj'^s 
theory, which, together with the discussion 
u{X)n it, will be found in the New Shak8i)ere 
Society's Transactions, 1874 (part I. pp. 130- 
194 and 242-252). He holds that the play 



a banquet scene in which Timon sets before his guests 
stones painted like artichokes (see note 120, on act iii. 6. 
Ill), and the story of the faittiful steward, here called 
Laches, who follows his master to the woods and tries to 
comfort him. There is. however, no reason for thinking 
that it was ever acted in London, or that Shakespeare 
ever saw it It is possible that it may have been known 
to the writer of the old Timon which Shakespeare rewrote, 
or that both these plays may have drawn upon a common 
original now lost. It may be noted in this connection 
that the expression "a Hmonist" occurs in IVekker, Sa- 
tiromastix (1602), Dramatic Works, vol. i. p. 258, ed. Ib73: 

I did it to retyre me fnim the world ; 

And tume my Mua into a TitHonist^ 

Luathim; the tfencral Lci^ozie of Sinne, 

Which lilce a pUt^ue runs t)iroiiy;h the soiiles of men. 

s For instance, the approach of the poet and the pain- 
ter (iv. S. 356) nearly 200 lines before their entrance on 
the stage, and the double epitaph at the end of the play. 



INTRODUCTION. 



waa left untinished by Shakespeare ami after- 
wards completed for publication by an inferior 
haud.^ We shall not differ widely from Mr. 
Fleay in his selection of the non-Shakespe«mim 
portions of the play, but his theory requires 
him to assume that these are at best but 
patches on the original work, and do not con- 
tribute to the advancement of the plot Here 
he fails to make out his case. Thus he says that 
the whole of act i. scene 2 "leaves the story un- 
advanced;" but surely it serves the purpose of 
setting before us Timon's magnificent style of 
living in the days of his prosi>erity, together 
with his princely bounty. Without it we 
jump at once from the introductory scene (act 
L scene 1) to one in which we find Timon in 
difficulties with the duns at his gates (act ii.). 
Again, of act iiL he sjiys: "these scenes by 
author the second add nothing to the progress 
of the play;" but scenes 1-4, l>esides being 
highly dramatic, are wanted to show us the in- 
gratitude of Timon's friends; otherwise, as Dr. 
Fumivall points out, the tremendous change 
in Timon's character woulil be due to the re- 
fusal of help from one friend alone, Ventidius, 
—a ref iisid, too, which, w^hetlier by accident or 
design, is not i-epresented on the stage, but only 
incidentally mentioned; while scene 5 gives the 
origin of the quarrel between Alcibiades and 
the senate, and connects itself with tlie con- 
cluding scene of the play. To take one more 
instance, Mr. Fleay thinks act iv. scene 3. 292- 
3C2 is an insertion because it interferes with 
the sense; Apemantus's remark (line 363) 
"Thou art the cap of all the fools alive," being 
a reply to Timon's " here it (gold) sleeps, and 
does no hired harm" (line 291). To this Dr. 
Nicholson replies that as Apemantus does not 
care for gold, he would not call Timon a fool 
for saying that gold was best placeil where it 
was out of the way, and that the connection 
between lines 291 and 292 is natural, for 
Timon's use of the word " sleeps" suggests to 
Apemantus to ask, as he does in line 292, 
''Where ly'st o' nights, Timon?" while "Thou 
art the cap of all the fools alive" is an appro- 
priate answer to Timon's assertion that he 
would rather be a beggar's dog than Ape- 

^Bolfe thinks the play was completed for the stage 
■nine time before the printing of the Folio. 



mantus (line 361), and means "thou never 
knew'st what was good for thee; in this thou 
capp'st all." 

Tlie following are the non-Shakespearian 
portions according to Fleay, with remarks by 
the present editor: — 

1. Act i. scene 1, lines 186-248, 266-288. —These 
prose bits, says Mr. Fleay, are " bald and cut up," 
and their effect is certainly something quite different 
from the rest of the scene; but it is possible that 
Shakespeare may have chosen this abrupt, snappy 
style of talk as something specially suitable to Ape- 
nmntus. 

2. Act i. scene 2.— The halting verse cannot bo 
Shakesi)eare*s, but there is no reason why he may 
not have written Apcmantus's grace, and particu- 
larly Timon's prose 8i>eech beginning "0, no doubt, 
my gooil friends," lines 91-112. 

3. Act ii. .scene 2, lines 46-131.* — As the Page and 
the Fool are not introduced elsewhere, this may bo 
a bit of the old play; but purposely left hero by 
Shakespeare, in order to spare the audience the de- 
tails of the wearisome accounts which Timon and his 
steward discuss off the stage. (See the remarks of 
Dr. Nicholson, ut nujmi, p. 250.) 

4. Act ii. scene 2, lines 195-204. — Mr. Fleay con- 
demns these lines in order to wjuare with his theory 
that Lucius, LucuUus, and Sempronius are chanicters 
introducc<l by the expander of the play. 

5. Act iii. the whole, except scene 6, hnes 95-115. 
— The whole of scene 6 may be Shakespeare's; but of 
course every reader must judge for himself. 

6. Act iv, scene 2, lines 30-50.— Connected with 
iv. 3. 464-543. 

7. Act iv. scene 3, lines 292-362. —Passibly Shake- 
speare's for the reason given under 1 ; see also what 
has boon said above on "Where ly'st o' nights'?" 

8. Act iv. scene 3, lines 399-412, 454-463. 

9. Act iv. scene 3, lines 464-54^3. — Mr. Fleay 
thinks that Timon's relenting to the stewanl, and 
rewarding him, is '* jvsthetically contrary to the whole 
drift of the play. Had Timon been convinced that 
there was one ' just and comfortable man,' he would 
have ceased to be misanf/o'ojMs, and would not have 
concluded his interview with 

Ne'er see thou man, and let me ne'er see thee." 

But is this so inappropriate after all? No doubt 
Timon is inconsistent, yet a character may be incon- 
sistent and still true to nature, and it was not with- 
out good reason that Shakespeare left this episoiie 
where it was when, as our theory assumes, he revistil 
the play. It is thus that Timon is redecmod from 
utter inhumanity, and thus that he once again ai»- 
peals to our S3rmpathy; indee<l after listening to his 
tremendous invectives against the whole human race, 
vigorous as they are, we might begin to feel that he 

6 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



was something too far beyond the range of our ex- 
perience did not this dialogue with his steward remind 
us that he is still a man. The speech of l^mon be- 
ginning '*Look thee, 'tis so!" line 529, is nenrous 
enough to be from Shakespeare's own pen. 

10. Act V. scene 1, lines 1-57. — Some lines in this 
read very like Shakespeare's work. 

11. Act y. scene 3. — The close of the play bears 
the marks of hurried revision. 

As to the date at which Shakespeare re- 
vised the play we have nothing bat internal 
evidence to go upon. This would assign it to 
the same period as Lear, Antony and Cleo- 
patra, and Coriolanus, and, as Professor Dow- 
den puts it, 1607 is a date which cannot he far 
astmy. 

But we have not quite exhausted the peculiar 
features of this play. In the Folio it comes 
between Romeo and Juliet and Julius Ciesar, 
and is i>aged 80 and 81 (a mistake for 78 and 
79), then 82, 81 (mistake for 80, 81), then 
82 to 98, then a leaf unpaged with tlie actors' 
names printed on one side, and then comes the 
lirst page of Julius Ccesar, numbered 109, so 
that four leaves api)ear to have been cancelled. 
Fleay points out that this sfmce, pp. 78-108 
(now occupied by Timon), would ejsactlt/ have 
lield Troilus and Creasida, which is actually 
paged 79 and 80 in it^ second and third pages, 
but is otherwise uii]><iged. He concludes, 
therefore, that it was originally intended to 
stand where Timon does now. " But as this 
play was originally called Tlie Historic of Troy- 
his and Cressula (so in the Quarto Edition), 
and as there is really nothing tragical in the 
main bulk of it, it was doubted if it could \ye 
put with the Trageilies, so the editors of the 
Folio compromised the matter by putting it 
Iwtween the Histories and Tragedies, and 
not putting it at all in the Catalogue, tliough 
thev still i-etained their first title for it as 
the tragedie of Trot/lics and Cressida. . 
But if, as I conjecture, all the following plays, 
from Julius Ciesar to Cvml)eline, were al- 
ready in type and had been printed off, there 
was nothing to fall back u|>on but Pericles and 
the unfinished Timon "(Fleay, nt nupni^ ]). 137). 
It is i>erhaps unsjife to infer that more than 
Julius Ctesar was already ])rintetl, but never- 
theless this is a very happy explanation of the 
eccentricities of the ]ijigination in the Folio, 

6 



and explains why a whole leaf is given up to 
the actors' names, with a liberality which does 
not occur elsewhere in the book.^ The sugges- 
tion which follows, tliat the editors of the 
Folio "took the incomplete Timon, put it into 
a playwright's hands, and told him to make 
it up to thirty pages," seems much less pro- 
bable,* for there is good reason for believing 
that the play as we have it in the Folio had 
been alreaily acted. "In old plays the en- 
trance directions are sometimes in advance 
of the real entrances, having been thus placed 
in the theatre copy that the performers or 
bringers-in of stage properties might be warned 
to be in readiness to enter on theii* cue. In 
act i. sc. 1 (Folio) is Enter Apemantu^ oppo- 
site *Well mocked,' though he is only seen as 
in the distance by Timon after the Merchant's 
next words, and does not enter till aft^r *Hee'l 
si)are none.' So in the banquet (sc. ii. mod. 
eds.) there is — Sound Tucket. Enter the Maskers^ 
&c., before Timon's — * What means that tmmpi ' 
— and Enter Cvjml with the Maske of jAxdies 
before Cupid's fore- running speech" (Dr. Ni- 
cholson, Transactions, &c., p. 252). 

STAGE HISTORY. 

In dealing with Timon of Athens darkness is, 
at theoutset, illumined only by conjecture. Mr. 
Fleay, whose theories as to Shakespeare's sliare 
in the authoi-ahip aiv fully discloseil in his 
I)aper on the Authorehip of Timon of Athens, 
read before the fourth meeting of the New 
Shakspere Societ}', 8th Mfiy, 1874, and in- 
cludeil in the first volume of its Transac- 
tions, assigns it to 1606 -7 (see Life of Shake- 
speare passim\ and supi^>ses it to belong to 
the same peri<Hl as " that jMirt of C^ml>eline 
which is founded on so-called British history" 
(ib. 156). Malone attributes it to 1610. Ite 
date of com|)osition was, we may fairly assume, 
near that of production, since in Shakespeare's 
case no cause for delav can easilv liave aiisen. 



1 And also why whole passages of prose are split up 
into imp<»uible verse. 

<TheCambrli1{j;e editors themselves say. "It may be that 
the M.S. of Timou was imi>erfect, aiul that the printing was 
stayed till it could 1)e complete<l by some playwright en- 
gaged for the purpose. But it is ditAcult to conceive how 
the printer came to miscalculate so widely the space to 
be left." 



INTRODUCTION. 



Nothing, however, is known, and we have no 
record of a performance of the pky as Shake- 
speare left it earlier than the present century. 
Shad well is responsible for the first adapta- 
tion of Timon that saw the light after the period 
of Puritan sway. " The History of Timon of 
Athens the Man Hater Made into a play" was 
printed in 4to in 1678, and was acted at the 
Dorset Garden Theatre probably in the same 
year. Tlie following cast is printed with the 
tragedy: — 

Timon of Athens = Mr. Betterton. 

Alcibiades, an Athenian captain = Mr. Smith. 
Apemantud, a rigid philmopher = Mr. Harris. 
Demetrius, Timon's steward = Mr. Medbamo. 
„. . \ = Mr. Standford 

^^^'^ I (shouldboSandford). 

Phaeax | = Mr. UnderhiU. 



Senators of Athens 



= Mr. Leigh. 
= Mr. Norris. 
= Mr. PercivaL 
= Mr. Gillo. 
= (no name). 
= Mr. Bowman. 
= Mr. Richards. 
= Mr. Jevon. 



£lius 

Cleon 

lunder 

Isidore 

Thrasillus 

Diphilns, Servant to Timon 

Old Man 

Poet 

Painter 

Jeweller 

Mu;dcian 

Merchant 

Erandra = Mrs. Betterton. 

Melissa = Mrs. ShadwcU. 

Chloe = Mrs. Gibbs. 

"Hiaid ^ Mistresses to Al- = Mrs. Seymour. 

Phrinias ) cibiados. = Mrs. Le-Grand. 

Strcahtty Mes$tf^riy teveitU AiattjueraderSy Soldltn. 

It is dedicated to George Duke of Bucking- 
ham, the author of The Kehearsal. With cus- 
tomary affectation of homage to Shakespeare 
Shad well says in the dedication: "I am now 
to present your Grace with this History of 
Timon, which you were pleased to tell me you 
like<l; and it is the more worthy of you, since 
it has the inimitable hand of Shakespear in it^ 
which never made more masterly strokes than 
in this." Then with arrogance no less custo- 
mary he continues: "Yet I can truly say, I 
have made it into a play." The Prologue ad- 
dressed to the Wits who sate in judgment on 
new plays contains an allusion to Shakespeare 
in which Shadwell contrives once more to puff 
himself: 



In th' art of judging you as wise are grown, 
As, in their choice, some ladies of the town: 
Your neat-shap'd Barbary Wits you will despise, 
And none but lusty sinewy writers prisse: 
Old English Shakespear-stomachs, you have still 
And judge, as our fore-fathers writ, with skill. 

In the epilogue also Shadwell shelters him- 
self behind Shakespeare: 

If there were hope that ancient solid wit 
Might please within our new fantastick pit ; 
The play might then support the criticks' shock. 
This scien {tic) grafted upon Shakespoar's stock. 

From a glance at the cast it will be seen 
what liberties have been taken with Shake- 
speare's story. The names of the characters 
and the characters themselves have been al- 
tered. In the Stuart period a piece with no 
love interest might well be regarded as outside 
conception. Shadwell has accordingly pre- 
sented Timon as faithless to his mistress, Evan- 
dra, who loves him {)a88ionately and is constant 
to the end ; and enamoured of Melissa, a mer- 
cenary creature who oscillates between him 
and Alcibiades (accordingly as their fortunes 
lise or fall. Apart from the fact that his lines 
are cacophonous and contemptible, Shadwell's 
theories are fatal to the play, (.'onstancy such 
as Evandra shows is enough to have reconciled 
Tuuon to the world, since devotion so exem- 
plary in woman might compensate for any 
amount of masculine shortcoming. The dig- 
nity and pathos of the death are lost when 
the messenger of Alcibiades returns at the 
close of the tifth act to say: 

My noble lord, I went as you conunanded 
And foimd Lord Timon dead and his Erandra 
Stab'd and just by him lying in his tomb, &c. 

It is needless to dwell ujK>n an atrocity which 
ranks with the happy termination to Lear and 
other i>erver8ions of the same epoch. Not 
more defensible is the treatment of FlaWus, 
rechristened Demetrius, and of Apemantus. 

Downes si)eaks of this play as a success. 
His words are: "Timon of Athens alter'd bv 
Mr. Shadwell; 't was very well acted, and the 
music in't well perform'd; it wonderfully 
pleiis'd the Court and City; being an excellent 
moral " (Roscius Anglicanus, p. 37). A differ- 
ent impression is conveyed in the epilogue to 

7 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



The Jew of Venice uf Creorge Gnuiville, Lord 

lAHsdowne, j>roduced twenty -three years later. 

In this, after comj)laiiiing of the bad taste of 

audiences, the writer continues: 

How was the scone forlorn, and how dcspis'd 
When Timon, without miuic, moralized ! 
Shakespeare's sublime, in vain ontic'd the throng, 
Without the charm of PurcoU's syren song. 

—Works, ed. 1752, p. 184. 

This wretched version held the sUge for near 
a centiury. Concerning the perfonuance we 
know nothing. Evandra is a sort of die-away 
cliai-acter in which Mary Betterton would be 
seen to iidvantage, Betterton woukl assumably 
be suiteil t<» Timon, and Harris, an excellent ac- 
tor, would do justice to ApemantuH. Sandfonl 
wa8 a noted stage- villain. Ann Shadwell, the 
wife of the adapter, wiis not much of an .ic- 
tress, but Melissa is not much of a ]wiit. 

Chi the 27th June, 1707, Sluidweirn Timon 
w«ia reWved by the summer comiMiny at the 
Hay market Mills was Timon, V^erbruggen 
A()eiuantUH, Booth Alcibiiules,NorriK the Poet, 
Bullock Phieax, Johnson .-Elius, Mi-s. Porter 
£van<lr.i, and Mrs. Bm<lshaw Melissii. 

Dniry Lane witnes8e<l its production on 8th 
Dec. 1720, when Booth wjia Timon, Mills \\ye' 
mantus. Walker Alcibiiides, Pinkethman the 
Pt>et, Mrs. Thurmond Evandra, jmd Mi-s. Hor- 
ton Melissa ; and Covent Garden on 1st May, 
1733, with Milwanl as Timon, Quin as Ai)e- 
mantus. Walker as Alcibiades, Mrs. Hallain 
as Evandrsi, and Mrs. Buchaiuin as Melissiu 
Milward revived it for his benefit at Drurj* 
Lane 20th March, 1740, repeating his i>erfor- 
mance of Timon. Quin was once mr»re Ai>e- 
niiuitus, Mills was Alcibiades, Wowlward the 
Poet, Mrs. Butler Evandni, and Mrs. Pritchanl 
Melissa. It was played for the last reconled 
time for Hales's benefit at (V)vent Garden 20th 
April, 1745. Quin was still Apemantus, Hip- 
pisley Phftax, Theophilus Cibl^er the Poet, 
Woodwanl Isander, Mrs. Pritchard Evandra, 
and Miss Hi})pisley Chloe. The other charac- 
ters are not given. Hides, since all sorts of 
rash ex])eriments were {lemiitted at benefits, 
was assumablv Timon. 

At Dublin ShadwelPs play was given about 
1715 at Smock Alley Theatre. Tlie cast of the 
performance, a rare thing in early Dublin 

8 



annals, is ])reserved, and as it included many 
names subsequently to become famous it may 
be given as it is supplied in Hitchcock's His- 
torical View of the Irish Stage, L 27, 28. The 
notes are our own: 



Timon 


'— 


Mr. Th. Elrington.1 


Alcibiades 


.3 


Mr. Evans. 


Apemantus 


i^ 


Mr. Ashbury.' 


Niciad 


^ 


Mr. Fra. Klrington.' 


Phawix 


— 


Mr. Thurmond.' 


Oelius {de) 


^z. 


Mr. Trofusis. 


Cleon 


:= 


Mr. Quin.* 


Isidore 


2JZ 


Mr. HalL 


Thrasillus 


zz. 


Mr. Dougherty. 


Demetrius 


^z 


Mr. Lei^h.* 


Poet 





Mr. Griffith.* 


Painter 


zz 


Mr. Gates. 


Jeweller 


^L 


Mr. Bowman. 


Miisiciim 


— 


Mr. Hallam. 


Evandrc {sic] 


Z^ 


Mrs. Thurmond. 


Mclirtsa 


^Z 


MrB. WilkiuH. 


Chloe 


■^ 


Mrs. Havwood.' 


Thai« 


1^ 


Mws Wilson. 


Pliryuia {sic) 


^^ 


Miss Schoolding. 



An adaptiition fn>m Shakei)]>eare and Shad- 
well by James Dance, I Hotter known by his 
acting name of Love, wiw published in 1768, 
and was produced near the same time by its 
author at the theatre erected by him and his 
brother in Richmond. Like Dance's other 
di*anKis, it is a \XHir compilation. Love played 
Apemantus, Aikin wjis Timon; Fawcett, Lu- 
cullus; (-'autherley, Alcibiades; and Mrs. Ste- 
phens, Evandra. liichard CumWrland was 
the next adapter of TimoiL His vei-siini 
was produced 4th December, 1771, at Drury 
Lane under Garrick's management, with 
Bjirry as Timon, Bannister as A]K'mantus, 
Packer as Flavins, PcUmer as Lucius, Hurst 
as LucuUus, Baddeley as the soldier, and ( 'rof ts 
(his tii-st ap|)earance on the stage) as Alcibi- 
ades. Mrs. Biirry was Evanthe. Cumberlan<l 

1 The Elringtuni were a family of clever acton. Thomas 
Elrington was at that time man«($er of the theatre. 

s A son. assumahly, of the late mananrer of Smock Alley, 
whose daughter Thomas Elrington marric<l 

3 A well-known actor nt Dniry Lane, tlit* husband of nu 
actress even lietter known, who playeil Kvandra. 

* The famous Quin. then a yonth of twenty-two. 

* Actor. B(»nK-writer, and dramatist 

* A Koo<l act<ir and a pleasing i)oet 

T Subseiiuently known as Mrs. Elizabeth Haywood, a 
voluminous writer introduced by Pope into the Dunciail, 
bookii. 



INTRODUCTION. 



has the grace, in his advertisement to the 
printed version (8vo, 1771), to express his wish 
that he could have brought the play upon the 
stage with less violence to its author, and to 
hope that his own errors may be overlooked 
or forgiven in the contemplation of the "many 
puisages of the first merit" which are still 
retained. He adds, "as the entire part of 
Evanthe and with very few exceptions the 
whole of Alcibiades are new, the author of 
the alteration has much to answer for" (Me- 
moir, i. 384). His aflfectiition of mo<lesty is 
siifficieDtly transparent. On the plea that the 
play is now out of print, he burdens his me- 
moirs with a long extract w^hich may figure 
among any future illustrations of bathos. 
Cumberland chronicles that " public approba- 
tion deemed to sanction the attempt at the 
first production of the play" (ib. i. 385); but 
owns that it was subsequently passed over 
with neglect It was indeed conspicuously 
unsuccessful, as appear to have been most 
alterations of Timon. Fi-ancis Gentleman, in 
his Dramatic Censor, does not include Timon 
among the plays on which he comments, and 
we are accordingly without the light which 
his criticisms cast upon the representations of 
other Shakespearean works. Genest gives a 
full description of the changes made by C^im- 
berland, and is lenient in his verdict, speaking 
of some of the shortening as judicious, and 
declaring that in the respect of making in 
the scenes from Shakespeare few alterations 
except omissions Cumberland is much superior 
to Shadwell. Genest admits that the additions 
of both coalesce badly with the original, but 
holds that lx)th have improved that part of 
the play which concerns Alcibiades" (Account 
of the English Stage, v. 319). To make, ajB 
does CHimberland, Evanthe the heroine, the 
daughter of Timon, and present her as be- 
loved by Lucius and Alcibiades, and favour- 
ing the latter, is, as has been observed, injudi- 
cious. The reckless extravagance of Timon in 
spending his money on sycophants becomes 
unpardonable when his wealth, or a portion at 
least of it, should belong to his daughter. 

Fifteen years later, at Coven t Garden, 13th 
May, 1786, yet one more alteration was tried 
with insuccess. Timon of Athens, altered 



from Shakespeare and Shadwell, is attributed 
in the Biographia Dramatica to Thomas Hull, 
a well-known actor and dramatist, for whose 
l)enefit it was given. From the same author- 
ity we learn that it was coldly received. This 
version has never l>een printed. The following 
is the cast: Timon = Holman, Apemantu8 = 
Wroughton, Alcibiades = Farren, Flavins = 
Hull, Lucullus = Quick, Lucius = Wewitzer, 
Evandra = a young lady, her first appearance, 
Melissa = Mrs. Inchbald. With the exception of 
the representative of Evandra, the foregoing 
actors constitute a strong cast. The young 
lady, according to the Theatrical Journal for 
May, 1 786, " is said to be a sister of Mrs. Kemble, 
formerly Miss Satchell." Miss Satchell, after- 
wards Mrs. Stephen Kemble, was the daughter 
of a musical-instrument maker. The debutante 
is praised for her figure, manner, and deport- 
ment, and declared to liave been "natural and 
affecting." Hull's alteration, it is said, "ought 
to be consigned to oblivion," a fate which soon 
attended it. Genest fails to chronicle who was 
the young lady playing Evandra. He says, 
however, that Flavius was quite in Hull's line, 
that Wroughton was a very good A{)emantus, 
and that Quick and Wewitzer played well and 
did not make their parts too comic (Account 
of the English Stage, vi. 402). 

A long interval elapses before Timon of 
Athens is again heard of, and it is then 
(28th October, 1816), for the first time, an- 
nounced aa in Shake8j)eare's version. Even 
now, however, some modification was found 
necessary. This was accomplished by the 
Honourable George Lamb. In the advertise- 
ment to the play the adapter says: "The 
present attempt has been to restore Shake- 
speare to the stage, with no other omissions 
than such as the refinement of manners has 
rendered necessary — the short interpolation 
in the last so^ne has been chiefly comj)iled from 
Cumberland's alteration." Genest, who gives 
an analysis of the play, praises it highly, say- 
ing that it "does Lamb considerable cre<lit, 
and a<lding, with a certain amount of hyper- 
bole, tliat "it is not only infinitely better than 
any of the former alterations, but it may serve 
as a model of the manner in which Shake- 
speare's plays should be adapted to the modem 

9 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



Stage" (Account of the English Stage, viiL 
586, 586). 

In this revival Kean made his appearance 
as Timon, the cast including Bengough as 
Apemantus, Wallack as Alcibiades, Holland 
as Flavins, Harley as Lucius, S. Penley as 
Lucullus, and Bernard as Sempronius. It 
was not a great success, and was acted seven 
times. Hazlitfs precious series of criticisms 
upon Kean's performances in Shakes])eare iloes 
not include Timon, and the ordinary organs of 
theatrical criticism pass over the representa- 
tion without notice. Procter (Barry Cornwall) 
apologizes for Kean,d eclares the play unadapted 
for representation, and says that Kean, by 
dint of his own single strengtli, was unable to 
make it ix>pular. He continues: **In fact, 
although one of the finest, it is at the same 
time one of the least dramatic works of Shake- 
Mpeare. It is more of a monodrame than a 
play" (Life of Kean, iL 163). The dialogue 
was given by Kean with prodigious effect," 
Ids retorts uyion Apemantus, and his curses on 
imgrateful Athens — 

Let mo look back upon theo. thou wall 
That girdlost in those wolves, &c. — 

were made as fierce as voice and expression 
could render them. But he did not exliibit 
the whole character. We l)eheld in him the 
bitter sceptic, but not the easy, lonlly, and 
magnificent Timon" (ib. ii. 163, 164). Mr. 
Hawkins, in his Life of Kean, i. 398, quotes 
from an unpublished letter of Mr. Harry 
Stoe Van Dyk, that Kean l^reathed the very 
soul of melancholy and tenderness in those 
impi*essive words: — 

But myself, 
Who had the world as my confoctionarj-; 
The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts of men 
At duty, more than I could frame employment; 
That numberle^ upon me stuck, as leaves 
Do on the oak, have with one winter's brush 
Fell from their bouprhs. and left me open, bare 
For every storm that blows. 

—Act iv. sc. iu. 259-266. 

He quotes also the opimon of Leigh Hunt, 
that the finest scene was that with Alcibiades. 
" We never remember the force of contrast to 
have been more truly jwithetic. Timon, dig- 
ging in the woods with his spade, hears the 

10 



approach of military music; he starts, waits 
its approach silently, and at last in comes the 
gallant Alcibiades with a train of splendid 
soldiery. Never was scene luore effectively 
managed. First you heard a sprightly quick 
march playing in the distance. Kean starteil, 
listened, and leaned in a fixed and angry 
manner on his spade, with frowning eyes and 
lijis full of the truest feeling, compressed, but 
not too much so; he seemed as if resolved not 
to be deceived, even by the charm of a thing 
inanimate; the audience wei-e silent; the 
march threw forth its gallant notes nearer and 
nearer, the Athenian standards appear, then 
the soldiers come treading on the scene with 
that air of confident progress wliich is pro- 
duced by the accx)m|)animent of music; and at 
last, while the squalid misanthrope still main- 
tains his ])osture and keeps his back to the 
strangers, in steps the young and splendid 
Alcibiades, in the flush of victorious expec- 
tation. It is the encounter of hoi)e with 
despair " (ib. 398, 399). 

Another long interA'al passed before Timon 
was again revived. Genest, indeed, chn)nicles 
no other i)erformance. 

Wiimed by previous experience, Macready 
left the character of Timon unattempted, and 
his example was followed by C^harles Kean. 
Not, indeed, until it was revived by Phelps 
is Timon traceable on the stage. 

On the 15th Septeml>er, 1851, with more 
than usual attention to the mise en sceiie, PheliM 
produced Timon at Sadlei*'s Wells. On this 
occasion the performance tnumphed over the 
defects, real or imaginary, of the play. Be- 
tween its first pnxhiction and the following 
Christuiiui it was played some forty times. 
In the Life of Phelps by W. May Phelps 
and John Forbes-Rolxirtson, the bill of this 
interesting i)erformance is given (p. 273). 
Tliough resjiectable in their <iay, the actoi-s of 
the subordinate parts are now wholly for- 
gotten. It i« not necessary accordingly to 
give more than the i)rincipal charactei's which 
were thus cast: — 



Timon = 


Mr. Phelps. 


Lucius — 


Mr. F. Robinson 


Lucullus = 


Mr. Hoskins. 


Sempronius = 


Mr. H. Mellon. 



INTRODUGTION. 



Ventidiu8 = 


Mr. Knight. 


Apcmantus — 


Mr. 6. Bennett 


Haviua = 


Mr. Graham. 


Alcibiades = 


Mr. H. Marston 


Poet = 


Mr. J. W. Ray. 


Painter = 


Mr. F. Younge. 


Phrynia = 


Mrs. Graham. 


Timandra = 


Mias Jones. 



High praise was bestowed upon the revival, 
though the encomiums upon Phelps are luke- 
warm. John Ozenf ord, one of the most capable, 
if also one of the most lenient of critics, gave 
iu The Times an elabomte analysis of the per- 
formance, dwelling especially uix>n the scenery, 
which was by Fenton. Fi-om his notice it is 
evident that some experiments, perhaps ques- 
tionable, were made with a view of adding to 
the attractions of a play tliat managers still 
regard askance. A moving picture, represent- 
iug the march of Alcibiades to Athens, was 
thus introduced, and the last scene presented 
the sea with the tomb of Timon as a conspi- 
cuous oViject. Timon, Oxenf ord declares, is one 
«i Pheljis's most effective characters. Coming 
to details, however, the critic dwells u}X)n pic- 
tiuesqueuess and the presentation of the *' in- 
herent dignity of the misanthrope." Of the 
delivery of the curse at the close of the third 
act, however, Oxenfonl s}>eaks with more 
warmth. It is said to be "gi-andly impres- 
sive." '*The feeling of wrong has kindled 
itself into a prophetic inspii-ation, and the 
parasites shrink before their awful host as 
before a sui)ematural presence" (quoted in Life 
of Phelps, p. 224). Of Marston's Apemantus 
it is said, ** With a countenance deformed by 
malignity, an abject deportment, a sharp 
spiteful glance, and a hard-hitting delivery of 
the pointed language, this ]>ersonage was a 
moiit admirable type of the worst species of 
the cynic breed" (ib.). A word of commenda- 
tion is spared for Mr. Ray's Flavins. 

On the 11th of October, 1856, Timon was 
again revived. Once more warm commen- 
dation was Yjestowed. Francis Guest Tomlins, 
secretary of the original Shakes])eare Society, 
instituted comparisons between the Shake- 
rtpearean revivals at Sadler's Wells and those 
by diaries Kean at the Princess's, wholly to 
the creilit of the former. At the head of the 



Princess's was a showman who as lavishly 
illustrate<l Pizarro as Macbeth; at that of Sad- 
ler's Wells was an artist who assigned fervour 
and genius predominance over archaeology. 
Professor Morley, with higher ])raise, says 
that Shakespeare's plays, as revived at Sadler's 
Wells, are always poems, and declares that 
Timon of Athens is wholly a i>oem to the Sad- 
lei-'s Wells audience (Journal of a London 
Playgoer, p. 154). His praise of Phelps is more 
well - meiuiing than comprehensible: "Mr. 
Pheljw in his own acting of Timon treats the 
character as an ideal, as the central figure in 
a myster}'. As the liberal Athenian lord, his 
gestui*es are large, his movements free — out 
of himself everything |)ours, towanls himself 
he will draw nothing" (ib. p. 155). With this 
representation the stage history of Timon 
ends. Two men alone liiive, so far as surviv- 
ing records attest, played the part of Shake- 
speare's 

Old Timon with the noble heart, 
That greatly loathing, greatly broke. 

Of Kean and Pheli)6 as Timon some memories 
survive. Of actors who presented Timon in 
paternal as]>ects, or as an impassioned wooer, 
enough has been said. A subject so devoid 
of feminine interest is, of coui-se, unpromis- 
ing — Timon has, accordingly, in most coun- 
tries, been "severely" left alone. Lucimi's 
dialogue has been translated into French by 
Br6court, and produced as a one-act comedy, 
played in 1684 under the title of Timon, and 
also under that of Les Flatteurs tromp^s ou 
I'emiemi des faux amis. Timon le Misanthrope, 
a three-act comedy of Delisle, produced at the 
Theatre des Italiens in 1722, is a mythoPogi- 
cal spectacle, bringing Mercury and Plutus on 
to the earth. Neither piece, it is needless to 
say, owes anything to Shakespeare. In Notes 
and Queries 7th s. iii. 40 it is recorded that 
John Honeycott, the muster of the charity 
school, Clerkenwell, had on 6th Feb. 1711, 
"with the children of the school, publicly 
acted the play called * Timon of Athens,' and 
by tickets signed by himself had invited several 
I^eople to it." For this he was called over the 
coals by the Society for Promoting Cliristian 
Knowledge, the trustees of the school. See 

11 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



also Secretan's Life of Bolx^rt Nelsou, Lond. 
1860, p. 130. Tliia performance of a play of 
Shakespeare is held to be "evidence of a con- 
siderable amount of culture in a neigh)>our- 
hood where one would scarcely expect to find 
it." The question arises, however — was the 
play Shakespeare or Shadwell ?— J. k. 

CRITICAL REMARKS. 

Timon of Athens is a study of the disastrous 
effects of a reverse of fortune upon an un- 
balanceil mind. The subject wf\s hardly ca- 
pable of being handled so effectively as those 
of the other great tragedies, and the compaiu- 
tive unpopularity of the play is easily ac- 
counteii for. But if it does not carry us 
along with the thrilling interest of a Macbeth 
or an Othello, it is by no means deficient 
either in design or execution. Although the 
dialogue becomes a little tedious here and 
there, the plot is well sustaine<l, the lea<ling 
situations are impressive, and the principal 
characters jM>werfully drawn. 

Timon's cliaracter is not hard to understand. 
He is a man of generous im])ulses but defective 
judgment. His weakness is a facile good- 
nature, which leads him to make friends in- 
discriminately with everyone; he is not at the 
pains to form any estimate of the true character 
of those who flock to enjoy his hospitality, 
but lavishes upon them his riches with an 
unwise prodigality: for he lias no thought for 
the future; with a careless magnificence he 
seeks only to gratify the momentary im])ulse 
of generosity, and although not a helpless 
victim to flattery, he is not insensible to the 
"fe{ist-won,fast-lost" popularity which follow*?. 
Thus his knowleilge of mankind is merely 
sui)erficial, his friendship does not rest upon 
those foundations which alone can render it 
permanent, he has no reserve of strength in 
his own heart to fall back upon, and it is not 
to l>e wondered at tliat when the crash comes 
he is uni>rei)ared to meet it, and that when 
his so-called friends desert him, and the false 
paradise which he has created for himself 
vanishes away, he is powerless to grapple with 
tlie stem realities which stare him in the face, 
and takes refuge in self -banishment and a 

12 



passionate and uncompromising hatred of the 
human race. 

In this, if he shows weakness, he does not 
show meamiess of character. Had he followed 
the advice of the Cynic Apemantus he would 
have acquiesced in the low morality which 
surrounded him; he would have tunie<l flat- 
terer himself and sought to thrive by that 
which had undone him. But his nature is 
too noble for that; curse he can — but never 
smile and be a villain. Not that cubing is 
a pleasure to him; he is as dissatisfied with 
himself as with the rest of the world, and 
from his intolerable bitterness of soid — a 
bitterness relievetl only by one touch of nature, 
his relenting towards his faithful steward — 
the sole release is death; yet though he dies 
with imj)recations on his lips, the play doe** 
not end without a hint that those he cursed 
have forgiven him, and remember rather his 
virtues than his faults: 

rich conceit 
Taught thoe to mako vast Neptune weep for aye 
On thy low grave, on faults forgiven. Dead 
Is noble Timon: of whoso memory 

Hereafter more. (v. 4. 77-81.) 

Where Timon failed Alcibiades succeeded. 
It has l>een remarked that the part which 
Alcibiades plays is only remotely connected 
with the main story; but it cannot be doubteii 
that he is intended to fonn a contrast to 
Timon, and })oint the moral of his fall. Like 
Timon, Alcibiades is wronged, but he does not 
unpack his heart in words and fall a cursing. 
He is a successful man of the world, who tiikes 
prompt meiisures U) right his wrongs, and his 
triumph over the offending senators forms a 
fitting sequel to the story of Timon's barren 
misanthropy. None the less it is with Timon, 
and not with Alcibiades, tliat our S}'mi>atlue8 
rest. Had Timon iK>8se88e<l the pnictical 
virtues of the victorious comiminder he wouUl 
liave been sjived from desjMiir, and the cat^is- 
trophe would have been averted; but iis we 
lament over the wreck of a noble nature, we 
feel that there are nobler things in the world 
tluui worldly prosj)erity, and that failure may 
sometimes command a deeper re^^pect than 
succesa 

Tlie character of Apemantus is a foil to 



INTRODUCTION. 



Timon^s. Timon hates men, and is mitM$rable 
in hiri hatred; Apemantus hates them too, and 
enjoys it Always a cynic and a carper, he 
uever had any faith in the goodness of the 
human heart, and cannot open his mouth ex- 
cept to give utterance to a sneer or a surly 
re]>artee. He has no wrongs to avenge; he is 
not, like Timon, smarting under a sense of the 
injustice of mankind ; he m 

a slave, whom Fortune's tender arm 
With favour never clasp'd; but bred a dog. 

(iv. 3. 250, 251.) 

He is unable to understand the righteous in- 
dignation which drove Timon to *' affect his 
Qiaiuiers." He thinks Timon must be insincere 
in his misanthropy, that it is either a iit of 
temporary' pique, or that he is recluced to it 
l)v slieer force of circumstances. He is not 

• 

himself "sick of this false world;" and when 
Timon wishes that the worM may be given 
over to the dominion of beasts, he is for put- 
ting off that catastrophe until he himself has 
quittetl it. It should l)e noticed too that 
Timon never pretends to be l)etter than others, 
and never lays claim to any special virtues ; while 
iu A])emantus we see that pride and self-com- 
placency with which such cynicism .'is his is 
always Jiccomjianied. He hugs himself hi his 
jjuperiority ti>the himian weaknesses of Timon's 
flatterers, in his abstinence from the lianquets 
in which they revelle<i, and in his utter inde- 
pendence of ;dl human ties (i. 2. <i3-70): 

Immortal gods, I crave no polf ; 
I pray for no man but myself: 
Grant I may never prove so fond. 
To trust man on his oath or bond , 
Or a harlot for her weeping; 
Or a dog, that seems a-slceping; 
Or a keeper with my freedom; 
Or my friends, if I should need 'em. 



Among the minor characters of the drama 
that of the Steward is the most prominent 
He is a faithful and attached servant of a ty])e 
which was a favourite with the later dranm- 
tists. He had that insight into human char- 
acter which his master lacked. Timon in the 
simplicity of his soul imagined tliat if he were 
ever in nee<l, the purses of his friends would 
be open to him with the same generosity that 
his was o})ened to them, but the Steward 
knew them better (ii. 2. 178-181): 

Ah, when the means are gone that buy this praise, 
The breath is gone whereof this praise is made: 
Feast- won, fast-lost; one cloud of winter showers, 
These flies are couuh'd. 

The attaclmient of his sei-vants to Timon is a 
proof of the inherenii gofnlness of his heart. 
Had he l^en a mere hanl-heartetl, selfish 
prodigal, he would never have had so devoted 
a follower as Flavins, who, although unable to 
save him, was able to wring fn)m him in his 
bitterest mood tlie confession that one honest 
man wjis left in tlie world. 

Timon of Athens is singular among Shake- 
speare's plays in the absence of any female char- 
acter, for the brace of coui-teziius can hardly 
l)e counted. It is i)erhaj)s enough to say that 
Shakes{>eare did not find any women in his 
materials, and did not aire to complicate the 
plot by the intnKiuction of any creations of 
his own. But he may also have thought that 
the subject was not one in which the female 
character couKl be displayed to any advan- 
tage. Shadwell thought otherwise, and into his 
alteration he intnxluceil two ladies — one with 
whom Timon was <hi the p(^)int of marriage, 
but who deseiia him in his adversity; and 
auotlier, whom he had himself deserted, but 
who stands by him to the last. 

13 




I 

i 




TIMON OF ATHENS. 



Scene L ArAeni. A hall in Timon'i house. 

Ealei- I'wt, Puinler, Jeiceller, JferchaiU, 

aiul other*, at tereral doort. 
Pu€t. (Jifix] ilay, sir. 

Piiii. I am glad you 're wdL 

ou luug: bow goes 



the 



I have not 
world ( 



lir, fia it grows. 

l'<-ft. Ay, that's well kuown: 

But what particular rarity? whatstrauge, 
Wtltb muiifold record not matcheaj See, 
)Ia!,'ic of bounty: all these xpirits thy {nwer 
Haihcciiijur'd toattenil. I kuowthemercluiiit. 

/'((III. I kiiow theni both ; th' other'sa jeweller. 

Jf«y. U, 't is a worthy lord. 

■'(f . Nay, that 'b most fix'd. 

Xrr. A most iuconiporable man; breath'd,' 

Tu nil uutirable and contiiiuate^ goodness: 
•/fK", I have a jewel here — 

'BnmtKd, having hmth enonab (or; or, Inured. 



Mer. O, pray, let's see't: for the Lord 

Timon, sir \ 13 

Jeip. If he will touch the estimate:' but, for 

tliftt— 
Foet. [lleciting to /(i)iiielf] "Whemtefor re- 
compaosa havo proia'il Ihe vilo, 
It stains the glorj in that happy versa 
Which aptly aingH the good. " 

Jtftr. Tiaagood form. [Lootiiii/ ut //njeael. 
■/cir. And rich: here is a water, look ye. 
I'aiii. Yon 're rairt," sir, in some work, some 
dedication 
To the great lord. 

Foet. A thing slipp'd idly from me. 

Our poesy is as a gum, which oozen !i 

From whence 'tis nourish'd: the fire i' the llint 
Shows not till it be struck; our gentle flame 
Provokes itself, and, like the current, flies 
Each bound it elinfes.— What have y,.n there? 
Faiit. A picture, sir. — When cornea your 

book forth? 
Foet. Upmi the heels of my presentment,' 



^ liapt, en^crouad. 



ACT I. Scene 1. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT I. SoeiM 1. 



Pain, T is a good piece. 

Poet. So 'tis: this comes off welP aiid excel- 
lent 29 

Pain, Indifferent. 

Poet, Admirable: how this grace 

Speaks his own standing! what a mental power 
This eye shoots forth! how big^ imagination 
Moves in this lip ! to the dumbness of the gesture 
One might interpret^ 

Pain, It is a pretty mocking of the life. 
Here is a touch; is't good? 

Poet. I will say of it, 

It tutors nature: artificial strife "^ 
Lives in these touches, livelier than life. 

Enter ccrtuin Senators^ and pass over. 

Pain. How this lord is followed I 

Poet. Tlie senators of Athens: — happy man! 

Pain. Look, muel** 4i 

Poet. You see this confluence, this great flooil 

of visitors. 

I have, in this rough work, shap'd out a man. 

Whom tliis l^eneath-world doth embrace and 

hug 
With amplest entertainment: my free drift 
Halts not particularly,^ but moves itself 
In a wide sea of wax: no levell'cF malice 
Infects one comma in the course I hold; 
But flies an eagle flight, bold, and forth on, 
Leaving no tract* behind. so 

Pain, How shall I understand vou? 
Poet. I *11 unbolt to you. 

You see how all conditions, how all minds — 
As well of glib and slipjHjry creatures as 
Of gi-ave and austere quality — tender down 
Tlieir services to Lord Timon : his large fortune. 
Upon his good and gracious natui-e hanging, 
Subdues and proi>erties' to his love and tendance 
All sorts of hearts; yea, from the ghiss-fac'd ^® 
flatterer 58 

To Apemantus, tliat few things loves better 

1 C<mi«N off icell. is a creditable piece of work, 
s Big, pregnant; or merely, powerful, mighty. 

* InUrjtrttt, play the interpreter. 

4 Artificial strife, the strife of art to emulate nature. 

* Moe, more. 

* Haiti not particularly, does not stop at any single 
person. ' LevtWd, aimed at any puticnlar person. 

* Tract, trace, track. 

* PropertieM, makes property of, appropriates. 

10 Glavhjac'd, reflecting like a mirror the looks of his 
patron. 

16 



Than to abhor himself: even he drops down 
The knee before him, and returns in peace 
Most rich in Timon's nod. 
Pain, I saw them speak together. 

Poet. Su*, 
I have ujx)n a high and pleasant hill 
Feign'd Fortune to be thron'd : the base o' the 

mount 
Is rank'd ^^ with all deserts, all kind of natures. 
That labour on the bosom of this sphere 
To propagate their states:^' amongst them all, 
Whose eyes ai-e on this sovereign lady tix'd, 
One do I personate of Lord Timon's frame. 
Whom Fortune with her ivury hand wafts to 
her: 70 

Whose present grace to present slaves and ser- 
vants 
Translates his rivals. 

Pain. Tis conceiv'd to scope.^^ 

This throne, this Fortune, and this hill, me- 

thinks, 
With one man beckon'd from the rest below, 
Bowing his head ag-ainst the steei)y mount 
To climb his happiness, would be well expres.**'d 
In our condition. 

Poet. Nav, sir, but hear me on. 

All those which were his felU)Ws but of late,— 
Some better than his value, — on the moment 
Follow his strides, his lobbies fill with tendance, 
Eain sacrificial whisperings in his ear, si 

Make sjicred even hisstirrup,and through him^* 
Di'ink the free air. 
Pain. Ay, marry, what of these? 

Poet. When Fortune, in her shift and change 
of mood. 
Spurns down her late beloved, all his depen- 
dants, 
Which lalx)ur'd after him to the mountain's top. 
Even on their knees and hands,lethimslipdown. 
Not one Jiccompanying his declining foot. 

Pain. T is common : 
A tliousand moral jmintings I can show, 90 
That shall demonstrate these quick blows of 

Fortinie's 
More pregnantly" than words. Yet you do well 



II Rank'd. covered with ranks. 

13 To propagate their states, to improve their fortouea. 

*» To itcope., to the purpose. 

i« Through him, by his leave, at his wilL 

»» Pregnantlij, clearly. 



ACT L Some 1. 



TIMON OF ATHENa 



ACT I. Scene 1. 



To show Lord Timon that mean eyes have seen 
The foot above the head 

Trumpets sound. Enter Lord Timon, address- 
ing himself courteously to every suitor; a 
Messenger from Ventidius talking with him; 
LuciLiUB and other Servants foUowing. 

Tim, Imprisoned is he, saj youl 

Yen, Sew, Ay, my good lord; five talents is 
his debt; 
His means most short, his creditors most strait:^ 
Your honourable letter he desires 
To those have shut him up; which failing, 
Periods^ his comfort 

Tim, Noble Ventidius!— Well; 

1 am not of that feather to shake off lOO 

My friend when he must need me. I do know 

him 
A gentleman that well deserves a help, — 
Which he shall have: 111 pay the debt, and 
free him. 
Yen, Serv. Your lordship ever binds him. 
Tim, Commend me to him: I will send his 
ransom; 
And, being enfranchis'd, bid him come to 

me: — 
lis not enough to help the feeble up. 
Bat to support him after. — Fare you welL 
Yen, Serv, Ail happiness to your honour! 

[Exit. 

Enter an old Athenian. 

Old Ath. Lord Timon, hear me speak. 

Tim. Freely, good father. 

(MAth, Thou hast a servant nam'd Lucilius. 

Tim. I have so: what of him? lis 

(Ad Ath. Most noble Timon, call the man 
before thee. 

Tim, Attends he here, or no? — Lucilius! 

Luc \Coming forward] Here, at your lord- 
ship's service. 

Old Ath, This fellow here, Lord Timon, this 
thy creature. 
By night frequents my house. I am a man 
That from my first have been inclin'd to thrif tr^ 
And my estate deserves an heir more raised 
Than one which holds a trencher. 

Tim, Well; what further? 



> StraU, strict. 
VOL. VIL 



1 Periods, patt a stop to. 



Old Ath. One only daughter have I, no kin 
else, 121 

On whom I may confer what I have got: 
The maid is fair, o' the youngest for a bride. 
And I have bred her at my dearest cost 
In qualities of the best. This man of thine 
Attempts her love: I prithee, noble lord, 
Join with me to forbid him her resort; 
Myself have spoke in vain. 

Tim. The man is honest 

Old Ath. Therefore he will be, Timon: 
His honesty rewards him in itself; iso 

It must not bear^ my daughter. 

Tim, Does she love him? 

Old Ath, She is young and apt: 
Our own precedent passions do instruct us 
What levity 's in youth. 

Tim, [To Lucilitui] Love you the maid? 
Luc, Ay, my good lord; and she accepts of it 
Old Ath, If in her marriage my consent be 
missing, 
I call the gods to witness, I will choose 
Mine heir from forth the beggars of the world. 
And dispossess her aU. 

Tim, How shall she be endow'd, 

If she be mated with an equal husband? 140 

Old Ath, Three talents on the present; in 

future, alL 
Tim, This gentleman of mine hath serv'd 
me long: 
To build his fortune I will strain a little, 
For 't is a bond in men. Give him thy daugh- 
ter: 
What you bestow, in him I 'U counterpoise. 
And make him weigh with her. 

Old Ath. Most noble lord. 

Pawn me to this your honour, she is his. 
Tim, My hand to thee; mine honour on my 

promise. 
Luc. Humbly I thank your lordship: never 
may 
That state or fortune fall into my keeping. 
Which is not oVd to you! i5i 

[Exeunt Lucilius and Old Athenian. 
Poet. [Presenting his poem"] Vouchsafe my 

labour, and long live your lordship! 
Tim. I thank you; you shall hear from me 
anon: 



s Bear, carry off, win. 

17 



168 



ACT L Some 1. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACTI. i 



Gro not away. — ^What have you there, my 
friend? im 

Fain, [FreserUtng his painting] A piece of 
painting, whidi I do beseech 
Your lordship to accept 

TwL Pointing is welcome. 

The painting is almost the natural man; 
For since dishonour traffics with man's nature. 
He is but outside: these pencill'd figures are 
Even such as they give out. I like your work ; 
And you shall find I like it: wait attendance 
Till you hear further from me. 
Fain. The gods preserve ye 1 

Tim. Well fare you, gentleman: give me 
your hand; 16S 

We must needs dine together. — Sir, your jewel 
Hath suffered under praise. 
Jew, What, my lord I dispraise? 

Tim, A mere satiety of commendations. 
If I should pay you for't as 'tis extoll'd, 
It would unclew^ me quite. 

Jew. My lord, 'tis rated 

As those which sell would give: but you well 

know, 
Things of like value, differing in the owners. 
Are prized by their masters:' believe 't, dear 
lord, 171 

You mend the jewel by the wearing it 
Tim. Well mock'd. 

Mer. No, my good lord; he speaks the com- 
mon tongue. 
Which all men speak with him. 

Tim. Look, who comes here: will you be 
chid? 

Enter Apemantus. 

Jew. We '11 bear,' with your lordship. 
Mer. He '11 spare none. 

Tim. Good morrow to thee, gentle Apeman- 
tus. 
Apem. Till I be gentle, stay thou for thy 
good morrow; 
When thou art Timon's dog, and these knaves 
honest^ 180 



1 Undew, unwind, i.€. undo, ruin. 

s Are priMtd by their matUrif are rated according to 
the merit of their ownen. 

s Bear, i«. the chiding of Apemantni. 

* When thou art Tinum'i dog, and thste knavn honett, 
two thinga which will ncTer be. 

18 



Tim. Why dost thou call them knaves 
know'st them not 

Apem^ Are they not Athenians? 

Tim. Yes. 

Apem. Then I repent not 

Jew. You know me, Apemantus? 

Apem, Thou know'st I do; I call'd tl 
thy name. 

Tim. Thou art proud, Apemantus. 

Apem. Of nothing so much as that I f 
like Timon. 

Tim>. Whither art going? 

Apem. To knock out an honest Ath< 
brains. 

Tim. That's a deed thou 'It die for. 

Apem. Right, if doing nothing be de; 
the law. 

Tim. How likest thou this picture, Ap 
tus? 

Apem. The best, for the innocence. 

Q Tim. Wrought he not well that p 
it? 

Apem, He wrought better that ma 
painter; and yet he's but a filthy pi 
work. 

Fain, You 're a dog. 

Apem. Thy mother's of my gen© 
what's she, if I be a dog? 

Tim. Wilt dine with me, A]>emantuc 

Apem. No; I eat not lords. 

Tim^ An thou shouldst,thou'dst anger 

Apem^ O, they eat lords; so they co 
great bellies. 

Tim. That 's a lascivious apprehensic 

Apem, So thou apprehendest it: tak< 
thy labour.] 

Tim. How dost thou like this jewel 
mantus? 

Apem, Not so well as plain-dealing, 
will not cost a man a doit 

TVm. What dost thou think 't is wor 

Apem, Not worth my thinking. — H.o^ 
poet! 

Foet, How now, philosopher ! 

ApenL Thou liest 

Foet. Art not one? 

Apem. Yes. 

Foet. Then I lie not 

Apem. Art not a poet? 

Poet. Yes. 



ACT I. 8oen« 1. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT L Soene 1. 



Apem. Then thou liest: look in thy last 
work, where thou hast feign'd him a worthy 
fellow. 

Poet, That 's not f eign'd,— he is sa 280 

Apem. Yes, he is worthy of thee, and to pay 
thee for thy labour : he that loves to be flattered 
ifl worthy o' the flatterer. Heavens, that I 
were a lord ! 

Titru What wouldst do then, Apemantus? 

Apenu E'en as Apemantus does now, — hate 
a lord with my heart 

Tim, What, thyself ? 

Apem. Ay. 

Tim, Wherefore? 240 

Apenu That I had no angry wit to be a lord. 
—Art not thou a merchant? 

Iter, Ay, Apemantus. 

Apem, Traffic confound thee, if the gods will 
not! 

Mer, If traffic do it, the gods do it 

Apem. Traffic's thy god; and thy god con- 
found thee! 

Trumpet sounds. Enter a Messenger, 

Tim. What trumi>et's that? 

Mess. Tis Alcibiades,and some twenty horse. 

All of companionship.^ 25i 

Tim. Pray, entertain them; give them guide 

to us. — [Exeu7it some Attendants. 

Toa must needs dine with me:— go not you 

hence 
Till I have thank'd you: when dinner 's done, 
9iow me this piece. I 'm joyful of your sights. 

Enter Alcibiades with the rest. 

Host welcome, sir! [They salute, 

Apem, So, so, there! — 

Ach^' contract and starve' your supple 

joints! — 
That there should be small love 'mongst these 

sweet knaves, 
And all this court'sy! The strain of man 's bred 

out 
Into baboon and monkey. 200 

Alcib. Sir, you have sav'd my longing, and 

I feed 
Host hungerly on your sight 

> Companiomkip, coming tn a body. 
* AdUi, pronounced hen, u tn t. 1. 202, like the plural 
of the name of the letter H. * Starve, paralyie. 



Tim. Kight welcome, sir! 

Ere we depart,^ we'll share a bounteous 
time 263 

In different pleasures. Pray you, let us in. 

[Exeunt all except Apemantus. 

Enter two Lords. 

First Lord. What time o' day is 't, Apeman- 
tus? 

Apem. Time to be honest. 

First Lord. That time serves still. 

Apem, The more accursed thou, that still 
omitt'st it 

Sec. Lard. Thou art going to Lord Timon's 
feast? 270 

Apem. Ay, to see meat fill knaves, and wine 
heat fools. 

Sec. Lord. Fare thee well, fare thee well. 

Apem. Thou art a fool to bid me farewell 
twice. 

Sec Lord. Why, Apemantus? 

Apem. Shouldst have kept one to thyself, 
for I mean to give thee none. 

First Lord. Hang thyself ! 

Apem. No, I will do nothing at thy bidding: 
make thy requests to thy friend. 

Sec. Lord. Away, unpeaceable dog, or I '11 
spurn thee hence! 28i 

Apem. 1 will fly, like a dog, the heels 0' the 
ass. [Exit. 

First Lord. He's opposite to humanity. — 
Come, shall we in, 
And taste Lord Timon's bounty? he out- 
goes 
The very heart of kindness. 

Sec. Lord, He pours it out; Plutus, the god 
of gold, 
Is but his steward: no meed^ but he repays 
Sevenfold above itself; no gift to him 
But breeds the giver a return exceeding 290 
All use of quittance.^ 

First Lord. The noblest mind he carries 
That ever governed man. 

Sec. Lord. Long may he live 

In fortunes! — Shall we in? 

First Lord. I '11 keep you company. 

[Exeunt. 



4 Depart, Mparate. * Meed, merit 

* Ute qf quittance, cuitomary requital 

19 



ACT I. Boeue 2. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT L Scene 2. 



Scene II. A banqueting-room in Timon^s house. 

Hautboys playing loud music. A great banquet 
served in; Flavius and others attending; 
then enter Lord Timon, Alcibiades, Lordsy 
Senators^ and Ventidius, tchich Timon re- 
deemed from prison. Then comeSy dropping 
after aUy Apemantus, discontentedly, like 
himself. 

Ven. Most honour'd Timon, 
It hath pleas'd the gods to remember my 

father's age, 
And call him to long peace. 
He is gone happy, and has left me rich: 
Then, as in grateful virtue I am bound 
To your free heart, I do return those talents, 
Doubled with thanks and service, from whose 

help 
I derived liberty. 

Tim. O, by no means. 

Honest Ventidius; you mistake my love: 
I gave it freely ever; and there 's none lo 
Can truly say he gives, if he receives: 
If our betters play at that game, we must not 

dare 
To imitate them; faults that are rich are fair. 
Ven. A noble spirit ! 

[They all stand ceremoniously looking 
on Timon, 
Tim. Nay, my lords, ceremony 

Was but devis'd at first 
To set a gloss on faint deeds, hollow welcomes, 
Becanting goodness,^ sorry ere 't is shown; 
But where there is true friendship, there needs 

none. 
Pray, sit; more welcome are ye to my fortunes 
Than my fortunes to me. [They sit. 

First Lord, My lord, we always have con- 
fessed it. 21 
Apem. Ho, ho, confessed it ! hanged it, have 

you not? 
Tim, O, Apemantus, — you are welcome. 

Apem. No; 

You shall not make me welcome: 
I come to have thee thrust me out of doors. 
Tim. Fie, thou'rt a churl; you've got a 
humour there 
Does not become a man; 'tis much to blame. — 

1 ReearUing goodntu, UndneM that is "loiTy ere 'til 
ihown." 

20 



They say, my lords, Ira furor brevis est;*hut 
yond man is ever angry. — Go, let him have 
a table by himself; for he does neither affect 
company, nor is he fit for it, indeed. si 

Apem. Let me stay at thine apperil,* Timon: 
I come to observe; I give thee warning on't. 

Tim. 1 take no heed of thee; thou'rt an 
Athenian, therefore welcome: I myself would 
have no power ;3 prithee, let my meat make 
thee silent. 

Apem. I scorn thy meat; 't would choke me, 
for I should ne'er flatter thee. — O you gods, 
what a number of men eat Timon, and he sees 
'em not ! It grieves me to see so many dip 
their meat in one man's blood; and all the 
madness is, he cheers them up too. 
I wonder men dare trust themselves with men: 
Methinks they should invite them without 

knives; 
Good for their meat, and safer for their lives. 

There's much example for't; the fellow 
that sits next him now, parts bread with him, 
pledges the breath^ of him in a divided draught, 
is the readiest man to kill him: 't has been 
proved. If I were a huge man, I should fear 
to drink at meals; 51 

Lest they should spy my windpipe's dangerous 

notes:* 
Great men should drink with harness on their 
throats. 

Tim. [To a Lord who drinks to him] My lord, 
in heart;^ and let the health go round. 

Sec Lord Let it flow this way, my good lord. 

Apem. Flow this wayl A brave fellow! he 
keeps his tides well. — Those healths will make 
thee and thy state look ill, Timon. Here 's 
that which is too weak to be a sinner, honest 
water, which ne'er left man i' the mire: co 
This and my food are equals; there 's no odds: 
Feasts are too proud to give thanks to the gods. 

Apemantu^ grace. 

Immortal goda, I cravo no polf f 
I pray for no man but myself : 
Grant I may never prove so fond, 
To trust man on his oath or bond ; 



^ Apperil, peril, danger. 

« Xo power, i.e. to make thee silent * Breath, life, 
ft Spy my windpipe's dangerous notee, and so find out 
where he&t to cut it 
« In heart, heartily. ^ Pelf, riches. 



ACT L Scene S. 



TIMON OF ATHEN& 



ACT I. Soene 2. 



{ [Or a harlot, for her weeping ; 

> Or a dc^, that seems a-sleeping; J 

Or a keeper' with my freedom; 

Or my friends, if I should need 'em. 70 

Amen. So fall to 't: 

Rich men sin, and I eat root. 

[Eats and dntihs. 
Much good dich' thj good heart, A])emantus! 

Tim, Captain Alcibiades, your heart's in the 
field now. 

Alcib. My heart is ever at your service, my 
lord. 

TVm. You had rather be at a breakfast of 
enemies than a dinner of friends. 

Alcib. So they were bleeding-new, my lord, 
there 's no meat like 'em: I could wish my best 
friend at such a feast. 81 

Apem. Would all those flatterers were thine 
enemies, then, that then thou mightst kill 'em, 
and bid me to 'em! 

First Lord, Might we but have that happi- 
ness, my lord, that you would once use our 
hearts, whereby we might express some part 
of our zeals, we should think ourselves for 
ever perfect.' 90 

Tim, O, no doubt, my good friends, but the 
gods themselves have provided that I shall 
have much help from you: how had you been 
my friends else? why have you that charitable 
title from^ thousands, did not you chiefly be- 
long to my heart? I have told more of you to 
myself than you can with modesty speak in 
your own behalf; and thus far I confirm you.* 

you gods, think I, what need we have any 
friends, if we should ne'er have need of 'em ? 
they were the most needless creatures living, 
should we ne'er have use for 'em; and would 
most resemble sweet instruments hung up in 
oases, that keeps their sounds to themselves. 
Why, I have often wish'd myself poorer, that 

1 might come nearer to you. We are bom to 
do benefits: and what better or properer can 
we call our own than the riches of our friends? 
0, what a precious comfort 't is, to have so 
many, like brothers, commanding one another's 
fortunes! O joy, e'en made away ere 't can 
be bom! Mine eyes cannot hold out^ water, 

1 Keeper, Jailer. > JHek, do it ; but see note 42. 

* Perfect, satisfied. * From, oat of, among. 

' / eon/trm you, I put yon past doabt, beliere in you. 

* Bold out, keep out. 



methinks: to forget their faults, I drink to 
you. 112 

Apem. Thou weepest to make them drink, 
Timon. 
Sec, Lord Joy had the like conception in our 
eyes, 
And, at that instant, like a babe sprung up. 
Apem, Ho, ho! I laugh to think that babe 

a bastard. 
Third Lord, I promise you, my lord, you 

mov'd me much. 
Apem, Much! [Tucket sounded within. 

Tim, What means that trump? iio 

Enter a Servant, 

How nowl 

Serv. Please you, my lord, there are certain 
ladies most desirous of admittance. 

Tim, Ladies! what are their wills? 

Serv. There comes with them a forerunner, 
my lord, which bears that office, to signify 
their pleasures. 

Tim, I pray, let them be admitted. 

Enter Cupid. 

Cup, Hail to thee, worthy Timon; — and to 
all 
That of his bounties taste ! — ^The five best senses 
Acknowledge thee their patron ; and come freely 
To gratulate^ thy plenteous bosom: th' ear. 
Taste, touch and smell, pleas'd from thy table 
rise; iss 

They only now come but to feast tliine eyes. 
7Hm. They're welcome all; let 'em have kind 
admittance: — 
Music, make their welcome! [Exit Cupid 
First Lord, You see, my lord, how ample 
you 're belov'd. 

Music, Re-enter Cupid, with a Mask of Ladies 
as Amazons with lutes in their ha7ids, dancing 
and playing. 

Apem, Hoy-day, what a sweep of vanity 
comes this way! 
They dance! they are mad women. 
Like madness is the glory of this life, 139 
As this pomp shows to a little oil and root. 
We make ourselves fools, to dis])ort ourselves; 

7 Oratulate. gratify. 
21 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



And spend our DattorieB, to drink* thoee men. 
Upon whose age we void it up agen, 143 

With poisonous spite and envj. 
Who lives, that's not depraved or depraves?' 
Who dies, that bears not one spum to their 

Of their friends' gift?* 

I should fear thoee that duice before me now 
Would oneday stamp upon me : 't has been done i 
Men shut their doors against a setting sun. 



The Lordt rite from table, tcith much adoring 
of Timon; aiid to thovi their lovei, ra«A n'n- 
glet <ntt an Amazim, aiid €dl dance; men 
■with women, a lofty ttrain or tieo to the kaut- 
hoyt, and eeaie. 

Tim. You have done our pleasures much 
grace, fair ladies, ui 

Set a fair fashion on our entertainment. 
Which was not half so beautiful and kind; 



^ 


Hifll 


pHnn^^ 




BM 


HEv|^H^^^Hb^ ^W)/Ny^^ffif<vi^ 


-^ 

^ 


H 





Yott 've added worth unto 't and lustre, 
And entertain'd me with mine own device; 
I am to thank you for 't 
Firit Lady. My lord, you take us even at 
the best.' 
( ^Apem. Faith, for the worst is filthy; and 
J would not hold taking, I doubt me.^ 

7Vm. Ladies, there is an idle banquet at- 
tends you: iw 
FleftK you to dispose yourselves. 
All Lad. Moat thankfully, my lord. 

[Exeunt Cupid attd Ladia. 
Tim. Flavins, — 

1 brink, derout, cootimia. 

> IVpraKd or dfpravu. lUiiilCKd or iluden. 

• 0/ t*tit/rlaidt' gift, glTcn them br their friead*. 

*AtOu hnt, It bat ulnnti«i. 



Flav. My lordl 

Tim. The Uttle casket bring me hither. 
Flai'. Yes, my lord.— [J«irf«] More jewels 
jet! 
There is no crossing him is 's humour; 
Else I should tell him, — well, i' hith, I 

should, — 
Wheu all 's spent, he 'd be cross'd' then, an he 

T is pity bounty had not eyes behind, 
Thatmanmigfatne'erbewretcbed for his mind. 
[Exit 
Firit Lord. Where be our men) ]n 

Serv. Here, my lord, in readiness. 
See. Lord. Our horses! 

' OsM'd, nirnlibBd with cruHh l(. moiMj. 



ACT L Scene 2 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT I. Scene 2. 



Re-enter Flatius ipitk the casket. 

Tim, O my friends, 

I've one word to say to you: — look you, my 

good lord, 
I must entreat you, honour me so much 
Ab to advance ^ this jewel ; accept it and wear it, 
Kind my lord. 

Firit Lord, I am so far already in your gifts, — 

AIL So are we alL 

Enter a Servant, 

Serv, My lord, there are certain nobles of 
the senate iso 

Newly alighted, and come to visit you. 
Tim, They *re fcirly* welcome. 
Flav. I beseech your honour. 

Vouchsafe me a word ; it does concern you near. 
ftwL Near! why, then, another time I'll 
hear thee: 
I prithee, let 's be provided to show them en- 
tertainment. 
Flav, [Aside'] I scarce know how. 

Enter a second Servant. 

Sec. Serv. May it please your honour. Lord 
Lucius, 
Oat of his free love, hath presented to you 
Four milk-white horses, trapp'd in silver. 
Tim. I shall accept them fairly: let the pre- 
sents 190 
Be worthily entertained.' 

Enter a third Servant. 

How now! what news? 
Third Serv. Please you, my lord, that hon- 
ourable gentleman. Lord LucuUus, entreats 
your company to-morrow to himt with him; 
and has sent your honour two brace of grey- 
hounds. 
Tim, 1 11 hunt with him; and let them be 
received. 
Not without fair reward. 

Flav. [Aside"] What will this come to? 

He commands us to provide, and give great 

gifts. 
And all out of an empty coffer: 199 

> Advance, promote, nlie to hononr. 

s Fairly, kindly. 

* JbUertain*d, recdred. 



Nor will he know his purse; or yield me this,^ 
To show him what a beggar his heart is, 
Being of no power to make his wishes good 
His promises fly so beyond his state. 
That what he speaks is all in debt; he owes 
For every word: he's so kind, that he now 
Pays interest for 't ; his land 's put to their 

books. 
Well, would I were gently put out of office, 
Before I were forc'd out! 
Happier is he that has no friend to feed 
Than such that do e'en enemies exceed. 210 
I bleed inwardly for my lord. [Exit, 

Tim. You do youselves 

Much wrong, you bate too much of your own 

merits: — 
Here, my lord, a trifle of our love. 

Sec. Lord. With more than common thanks 
I will receive it. 

Third Lord, O, he 's the very soul of bounty ! 

Tim. And now I remember, my lord, you 
gave 
Qood words the other day of a bay courser 
I rode on: it is yours, because you lik'd it 

First Lord. O, I beseech you, pardon me, 
my lord, in that. 

Tim. You may take my word, my lord; I 
know, no man 220 

Can justly praise but what he does affect: 
I weigh my friend's affection with mine own; 
I 'U tell you true. — I 'U call to you.* 

AU Lords. O, none so welcome. 

Tim, I take all and your several visitations 
So kind to heart, 't is not enough to give; 
Methinks,! could deal kingdoms to my friends, 
And ne'er be weary. — Alcibiades, 
Thou art a soldier, therefore seldom rich; 
It comes in charity to thee: for all thy living 
Is 'mongst the dead ; and all the lands thou 
hast 280 

Lie in a pitch'd field. 

Alcib. Ay, defil'd land, my lord. 

First Lord We are so virtuously bound — 

Tim. And so 

Am I to you. 

Sec Lord. So infinitely endear'd — 

Tim, All to you. — Lights, more lights! 



* Yield me thit, give me this permission. 
^ I'll eall to jfou, appeal to yon for assistance. 

23 



ACT I. Scene 2. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT II. Soene 1. 



First Lord, The best of happiness, 

Honour, and fortunes, keep with you, Lord 
Timonl 
Tim, Ready for his friends. 

[Exeunt all but Apemantiu and Timan, 

Apet}i, What a coil* 's here! 

I (^Serving of becks,' and jutting-out of bums! 

; I doubt whether their legs be worth the sums 

:That are given for 'em.] Friendship 's full of 

dregs: 
Methinks, false hearts should never have sound 
legs. 240 

Thus honest fools lay out their wealth on 
courtesies. 
Tim. Now, Apemantus, if thou wert not 
sullen, 
I would be good to thee. 



Apem. No, I'll nothing; for if I should be 
brib'd too, there would be none left to rail 
upon thee; and then thou wouldst sin the 
faster. Thou givest so long, Timon, I fear me 
thou wilt give away thyself in paper' shortly: 
what needs these feasts, pomps, and vain- 
glories? ^4Si 

Tim, Nay, an you begin to rail on society 
once, I am sworn not to give regard to you. 
Farewell ; and come with better music 

[ExiL 

Apem. So; 
Thou wilt not hear me now ; thou shalt not 

then: 
I *11 lock thy heaven* from thee. 
O that men's ears should b^ 
To counsel deaf, but not to flattery! [Exit. 



ACT 11. 



Scene I. Athens. A Senator's hotue. 

Enter Senator, with papers in his hand. 

Seju And late, five thousand ; — to Varro and 

to Isidore 
He owes nine thousand; — besides my former 

siun, 
Which makes it five-and- twenty. — Still in 

motion 
Of raging waste? It cannot hold; it will not. 
If I want gold, steal but a beggar's dog. 
And give it Timon, why, the dog coins gold: 
If I would sell my horse, and buy twenty moe 
Better than he, why, give my horse to Timon, 
Ask nothing, give it him, it foals me, straight, 
And able horses: no porter at his gate; 10 
But rather one that smiles, and still invites 
All that pass by. It cannot hold; no reason 
Can found his state in safety. — Caphis, ho! 
Caphis, I say! 

Enter CAPHia 

Caph. Here, sir; what is your pleasure? 
Sen. Get on your cloak, and haste you to 
Lord Timon; 
Importune him for my moneys; be not ceas'd 



I Coil, fUM. 



* JBedrt, nodi, u a aign of command. 
24 



With slight denial; nor then silenc'd when — 
"Commend me to your master" — and the cap 
Plays in the right hand, thus: — but tell him. 
My uses* cry to me, I must serve my turn 
Out of mine own; his days and times are past, 
And my reliances on his fracted^ dates 23 
Have smit my credit: I love and honour him; 
But must not break my back to heal his finger: 
Immediate are my needs; and my relief 
Must not be toss'd and tum'd to me in words, 
But find supply immediate. Get you gone: 
Put on a most importunate aspect, 
A visage of demand; for, I do fear, 29 

When every feather sticks in his own wing. 
Lord Timon will be left a naked gull,^ 
Which flashes now a phoenix. Get you gone. 

Caph. I go, sir. 

Sen, "I go sir I" Take the bonds along 
witli you, 
And have the dates in compt.^ 

Caph, I will, sir. 

Sen, Go. [Exeunt. 



* In paper, in paper securities or bonds. 

* Thy heaven, good advice. 

* U$ee, necessities. 
Fraeted, broken. 

7 Naked gull, unfle<iged nesting. 

8 In eompt, in account 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



A hatt in Timon'i 



r Flavius, with many biltt in hit hand. 



Flav. No a 






of ex- 



That he will oeitherknowhowto maintain it, 

Not cease bis flow of riot: takes no occouut 
How things go from him, nor resumeH* no care 
Of what is to continue: never miiid 
Wu to be BO unwise, to be ao kind. 
What shaU be done! be wiU not bear, till feel; 
I most be round with him, now hecomesfrom 
hunting. s 

Fie, fi«, fie, fie! 



Capk. Good even, Varro: what, 

Yon come for money! 
Tor. Serv. la't not your buainesa too! 

Caph. It is; — and yours too, Isidore! 
Itid. Serv. It is sa 

Caph. Would we were all dischai^d I * 
Tor. Sen). I fear it' 

Caph. Here comes the lord. 

Enter TmoH, Alcibiades, atut Lordt, Ac 

Tvm. So soon aa dinner's done we'll forth 
igain, 
MfAlcibiades. — With tnol what is your will) 

Ca^. My lord, here is a note of certain dues. 

7^ Dues! Whence are you! 

KifA. Of Athens here, my lord. 

Tik. Go to my Hteward. 

dpA. Please it your lordship, he hath put 
me off i» 

To the succession of new days this month: 
Uf Diaster is awak'd by groat occasion 
To all upon hia own ; and humbly prays you, 
TIttt with your other noble parts you '11 suit* 
In giving him his right. 

Tim. Mine honest friend, 

I prithee, but repair to me next morning. 

fii/iA. Nay, good my lord, — 

Tim. Contain thyself, good friend 

1 Xftumo. tskn. ■ muftargA. pild. 

■ I Star it, 1 hsve 1117 tun abant it. 

• Fw'U «tt«, jon nrUl act rawUtwitlx wIUl 



Vof. Serv. One Varro's servant, my good 

loid,— 
Itid. Serv. From Isidore; 
He humbly prays you speedy payment, — 
Caph. If you did know, my lord, my mas- 
ter's wants, — 




For. iServ. T was due on forfeiture, my lord. 

And past, — 
Itid. Serv. Your steward puts me off, my 
loirlj 
And I am sent expressly to your lordahipL 

Tim. Give me breath,— 
I do beseech you, good my lords, keep onj* 
I'll wait upon you instantly. 

[Erennt Alcibiade* and Lord*. 
{To Flaviu»\ Come hither: pray you. 
How goea the world, that I am thus encoun- 
ter-d 

> £hp on, procmd, go in. 



ACT IL Scene 2. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT IL Scene 2. 



With clamorous demands of date-broke bonds, 
And the detention^ of long-since-due debts, 
Against my honour? 

Flav, Please you, gentlemen. 

The time is unagreeable to this business: 4i 
Your importunacy cease till after dinner; 
That I may make his lordship understand 
Wherefore you are not paid. 

Tim, Do so, my friends. — 

See them well entertained. \Exit, 

FUiv. Pray, draw near. \Exit. 

Enter Apemantus and Fool. 

Caph, Stay, stay, here comes the fool with 
Apemantus: let 's ha' some sport with 'em. 

Var. Serv. Hang him, he '11 abuse us. 

Jnd, Serv, A plague upon him, dog ! 50 

Var. Serv. How dost, fool? 

Apem. Dost dialogue with thy shadow? 

Var. Serv. I speak not to thee. 

Apem. No, 'tis to thyself. — [To the Fool] 
Come away. 

Ind. Serv. There 's the fool hangs on your 
back already. 

Apem. No, thou stand'st single, thou 'rt not 
on him yet 

Caph. Where 's the fool now? 

Apem. He last ask'd the question. — Poor 
'rogues, and usurers' men! [bawds between 
> gold and want ! ^ 61 

All Serv. What are we, Apemantus? 

Apem, Asses. 

All Serv. Why? 

Apem. That you ask me what you are, and 
do not know yourselves. — Speak to 'em, fooL 

Fool. How do you, gentlemen? 

All Serv, Gramercies, good fool : [how does 
[your mistress? 70 

Fool, She 's e'en setting on water to scald 
isuch chickens as you are. Would we could 
•see you at Corinth !] 

Apem, Good! gramercy. 

Fool, Look you, here comes my mistress' 
page. 

Enter Page. 

Page, [To the Foci] Why, how now, captain! 
what do you in this wise company? — How 
dost thou, Apemantus? 

1 Detention, withholding. 
26 



Apem. Would I had a rod in my mouth, 
that I might answer thee profitably ! 80 

Page. Prithee, Apemantus, read me the 
superscription of these letters: I know not 
which is which. 

Apem, Canst not read? 

Page, No. 

Apem,, There will little learning die, then, 
that day thou art hang'd. This is to Lord 
Timon; this to Alcibiades. Gro; [thou wast 
bom a bastard, and thou 'It die a bawd. 

Page, Thou wast whelp'd a dog, and thou 
shalt famish a dog's death. ^ Answer not, I^ 
am gone. [Exit. 

Apem, E'en so thou outrunn'st grace. Fool, 
I will go with you to Lord Timon's. 

Fool, Will you leave me there? 

Apem, If Timon stay at home. — You three 
serve three usurers? 

All Serv. Ay; would they serv'd us! 

Apem, So would I, — as good a trick as ever 
hangman serv'd thief. lOO 

Fool. Are you three usurers' men? 

All Serv. Ay, fooL 

[ Fool. I think no usurer but has a fool to his 
servant: my mistress is one, and I am her fool. 
When men come to borrow of your masters, 
they approach sadly, and go away merry; but 
they enter my mistress' house merrily, and go 
away sadly: the reason of this? 

Var. Serv. I could render one. 109 

Apem, Do it, then, that we may account 
thee a whoremaster and a knave; which not- 
withstanding, thou shalt be no less es- 
teemed. 

Var. Serv. What is a whoremaster, fool? 

Fool. A fool in good clothes, and something 
like thee. 'TIS a spirit: sometime 't appears ( 
like a lord; sometime like a lawyer; sometime 
like a philosopher, with two stones moe than 
's artificial one:' he is very often like a knight; 
and, generally, in all shapes that man goes up 
and down in from fourscore to thirteen, this 
spirit walks in.^ iso} 

Var. Serv. Thou art not altogether a fooL 

Fool. Nor thou altogether a wise man: as 
much foolery as I have, so much wit thou 
lack'st 

1 '« art\/Uial one, the philosopher^! itoiie. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 
might have become 



Apem. That 
Apemantua. 
Ail Serv. Aside, aside; here comes Lord 

Re-enter TiMos and Flaviub, 
Apem, Come with me, fool, come. 



Fool. I do not alwftj'B follow lover, elder 

brother,andwomau; sometime thephiloBOpher. 

[ExeaiU Apernantu* and fool. 

Flav. Pray you, walk near: I '11 Bi)eak with 

you aiiou. [Exeunt Servantt. 

Tim. You make me marvel; wherefore ere 

this time 




Had yon not fully laid my state before me; 
Tlat I mig^t so have rated my expense 
As I had leave of meansl 

Flat. You would not hear me, 

At many leisures I propos'd. 

Tim. Goto: 

Perchance some single vantages you took, 
Vfhea my indispoeitiou' put you back; 
And that anaptness made your minister,' ito 
Tiros to eicuae yourself. 

Ftav. my good lord, 

At many times I brought in my accounts, 
Itfid them before you ; you would throw them 



ttat aiiwtDaH jonr mlnliUr (IniCnuoent). 



And say, you found them in mine honesty. 
When, for some trifling present, you have bid 

Hetum^ 80 much, I've shook my head and 

Yea, 'gainst th' authority of manners, pray'd 

you 
To hold your hand more close: I did eudtire 
Not seldom, nor no slight checks, when I have 
Prompted you, in the ebb of your estate, iso 
And your great flow of debta. My lov'd lord, 
Though you hear now — too late — yet now 'a a 

The greatest of your having lacks a half 
To pay your present debts. 

> itcfum, give In, m*ke > return o[. 



JkCT II. Soeno 2. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT II. Soeoe 2. 



Tim, Let all my land be sold. 

Flav, T is all eogag'd, some forfeited and 
gone; 

And what remains will hardly stop the mouth 

Of present dues:^ the future comes ajiace: 

What shall defend the interim? and at length 

How goes our reckoning? 159 

Tim, To Lacedsemon did my land extend. 
Flav, O my good lord, the world is but a 
word: 

Were it all yours to give it in a breath, 

How quickly were it gone! 

Tim, You tell me true. 

Flav, If you suspect my husbandry or false- 
hood,* 

*Gall me before th' exactest auditors. 

And set me on the proof. So the gods bless me, 

When all our offices' have been oppress'd 

With riotous feeders;^ when our vaults have 
wept 

With drunken spilth* of wine; when every 
room 

Hath blaz'd with lights and bray'd with min- 
strelsy; 170 

I have retired me to a wasteful cock, 

And set mine eyes at flow. 

Tim, Prithee, no more. 

Flav. Heavens, have I said, the bounty of 
this lord ! 

How many prodigal bits have slaves and 
peasants 

This night englutted !• Who is not Timon's? 

What heart, head, sword, force, means, but is 
Lord Timon's? 

Oreat Timon, noble, worthy, royal Timon! 

Ah, when the means are gone that buy this 
praise. 

The breath is gone whereof this praise is made: 

Feast -won, fast -lost; one cloud of winter 
showers, I80 

These flies are couch'd. 

Tim, Come, sermon me no further: 

No viUanous bounty yet hath pass'd my heart; 

Unwisely, not ignobly, have I given. 

Why dost thou weep? Canst thou the con- 
science lack, 

1 Dues, debts. * Faluhood, diahouesty. 

* OJHeei, various domestic apartments. 

4 Feeder*, parasites. * Spilth, effusion, waste. 

* Englutted, swallowed up. 

28 



To think I shall lack friends? Secure thy 

heart;^ 
If I would broach the vessels of my love, 
And try the argument ® of hearts by borrovring. 
Men and men's fortunes could I frankly use 
As I can bid thee speak. 
Flav, Assurance bless your thoughts! 

Tim, And, in some sort, these wants of mine 
are crown'd, iw 

That I account them blessings; for by these 
Shall I try friends: you shall perceive how you 
Mistake my fortunes; I am wealthy in my 

friends. — 
Within there! Flaminius! Servilius! 

ErUer Flaminius, Servilius, and other 

Servants, 

Servants, My lord? my lord? — 
Tim, I will dispatch you severally: — [to Ser- 
vilius] you to Lord Lucius;— [^0 Flaminius] to 
Lord Lucullus you; I himted with his honour 
to-day; — [to another Servant] you to Sempro- 
nius: commend me to their loves; and, I am 
proud, say, that my occasions have found time 
to use 'em toward a supply of money: let the 
request be fifty talents. 201 

Flam, As you have said, my lord. 

[Exit icith Servilius and another Servant, 
Flav. [Aside] Lord Lucius and Lucullus? 

hum! 
Tim, [To another Servaiit] Go you, sir, to the 
senators, — 
Of whom, even to the state's best health, I have 
Deserv'd this hearing; bid 'em send o' th' in- 
stant 
A thousand talents to me. [Exit Servant, 

Flav, 1 have been bold — 

For that I knew it the most general^ way — 
To them to use your signet and your name; 
But they do shake their heads, and I am here 
No richer in return. 

Tim, Is 't true ? can 't be ? 

Flav. They answer, in a joint and corporate 
voice, 213 

That now they are at fall,^^ want treasure, can- 
not 

7 Secure thy heart, free thy heart from care. 

* Arffument, contents. 

• General, common, ordinary. 
10 At /all, at the ebb. 



ACT II. Scene 2. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT! III. Soem 1. 



Do what they would; are sony — you are hon- 
ourable — 
But yet they could have wish'd — they know 

not — 
Something hath been amiss — a noble nature 
>Iay catch a wrench — would all were well — 

'tis pity; — 
And so, intending^ other serious' matters, 
After distasteful looks^ and these hard frac- 
tions,^ 220 
With certain half-caps and cold-moving nods 
They froze me into silence. 

Ttm, You gods, reward them! — 

Prithee, man, look cheerly. These old fellows 
Have their ingratitude in them hereditary:* 
Their blood is cak^d, 'tis cold, it seldom flows; 
T is lack of kindly warmth they are not kind; 
And nature, as it grows again toward earth, 
Is fashion'd for the journey, dull and heavy. — 
[To another Sen?a)U] Gro to Ventidius, — [to 
Flavius] Prithee, be not sad, 229 



Thou art true and honest; ingeniously^ I speak. 
No blame belongs to thee: — [to the same Ser- 
vant] Ventidius lately 231 
Buried his father; by whose death he's stepp'd 
Into a great estate: when he was poor, 
Imprison'd, and in scarcity of friends, 
I clear'd him with five talents: greet him from 

me; 
Bid him suppose some good necessity 
Touches his friend, which craves to be re- 

member'd 
With those five talents. [Exit Servant. 

[To Flavius] That had, give 't these fellows 
To whom 'tis instant due. Ne'er speak, or 

think, 
That Timon's fortunes 'mong his friends can 

sink. 240 

Flav. I would I could not think it: that 

thought is bounty's foe: 
Being free^ itself, it thinks all others so. 

[Exeunt. 



ACT III. 



Scene I. A room in LuculUt^ house. 

Flamixius waiting. Enter a Servant to him. 

Serr. I have told my lord of you; he is 
coming down to yoiL 
Flam. I thank you, sir. 

Enter Lucullus. 

Serv. Here 's my lord. 

Lucul. [Aside] One of Lord Timon's men? a 
gift, I warrant. Why, this hits right; I dreamt 
of a silver basin and ewer to-night — Flaminius, 
honest Flaminius; you are very respectively^ 
welcome, sir. — Fill me some wine. [Exit Ser- 
vant] — And how does that honourable, com- 
plete, free-hearted gentleman of Athens, thy 
very bountiful good lord and master? 11 

Flam. His health is well, sir. 



1 Intending, pretending. 

* DUtatteful looks, looks of diaUke. 
s Fraeticnt, broken hints. 

* Hereditary, inherent, natnnd. 

* Ingeniously, from the heart. * Free, liberal. 
7 Reepectively, with all proper attention. 



Lucul. I am right glad that his health is 
well, sir: and what hast thou there under thy 
cloak, pretty Flaminius? 

Flam. Faith, nothing but an empty box, sir; 
which, in my lord's behalf, I come to entreat 
your honour to supply; who, having great and 
instant occasion to use fifty talents, hath sent 
to your lordship to furnish him, nothing doubt- 
ing your present assistance therein. 21 

Lucul. La, la, la, la, — "nothing doubting," 
says he? Alas, good lord! a noble gentleman 
'tis, if he would not keep so good a house. 
Many a time and often I ha' din'd with him, 
and told him on 't; and come again to supper 
to him, of purpose to have him spend less; and 
yet he would embrace no counsel, take no war- 
ning by my coming. Every man has his fault, 
and honesty^ is his: I ha' told him on't, but 
I could ne'er get him from 't 31 

Re-enter Servant^ icith wi)ie. 
Serv. Please your lordship, here is the wine. 

s Honesty, the conduct of a gentleman; here, generosity. 

29 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT III. s 



[Drinii, and then giva Aim inM. 

Flam. Your lordship speaks your pleasure. 

Lucul. I have observed thee aiwaya for a 
towaidly' prompt spirit, — give thee thy due, — 
nnd one tb.it kuows what belongs to reason; 



and canst use the time well, if the time use 
thee well: good parts in thee. — [To Serratii] 
Get you gone, sirraL [Sxti ServanL]—Dniw 
nearer, honest Flaminius. Thy lord 'b a bounti- 
ful gentleman: but thou art wise; and thou 
know'st well enough, although thou com'at to 
me, that this is no time to lend money; espe- 




cially upon bare friendship, without security. 
Here 's three aolidarea for thee : good boy, wink 
at me, and say thou saw'st me not Fare thee 
well. 
Flam. Is't possible the world should so mut^ 
differ. 
And we alive that liv'd?' Fly, damned base- 
To him that worships theel 

[Throwing the numey bad. 

Luctd. Ha! now I see thou art a fool, and 

fit for thy master. [jEW. 

Flam. May these add to the number that 

may scald thee! 

I Tevardly. doclls 

> Ani m alitt tiat Ii'c'd, i.t. Id u atiort ■ time. 



Let molten cam be thy damnation, 
Thou disease of a friend, and not liimaelf '. 
Has friendship such a faint and milky heart. 
It turns in less than two nights? you 

gods, 
I feel my master's passion! This slave, w 
Unto his honour, has my lord's meat in him: 
Why shoald it thrive, and turn to uutri- 

When he is tum'd to poison) 

O, may diseases only work upon 't ! 

Aud, wlieu he 'a sick to death, let not that part 

of nature 
Which my lord paid for, be of any power 
To ex{>el sickness, but prolong his hour! 

[ExiL 



ACT HI. SoeiM 2. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT III. Scene 2. 



Scene IL A public place. 

Eater Lucius, vnth three Strangers. 

Luc. Who, the Lord Timon? he is my very 
good friend, and an honourable gentleman. 

I'ifdt Stran. We know him for no less, though 
we are but strangers to him. But I can tell 
you one thing, my lord, and which I hear from 
common rumours, — now Lord Timon's happy 
houTB are done and past, and his estate shrinks 
from him. 

Luc Fie, no, do not believe it; he cannot 
want for money. lo 

See. Stran. But believe you this, my lord, 
that^ not long ago, one of his men was with 
the Lord Lucullus to borrow so many talents; 
najy mg'd extremely for % and showed what 
neoeasity belong'd to % and yet was denied. 

Lue, How! 

See. JS^ran, I tell you, deni'd, my lord. 

Lue. What a strange case was that! now, 
befofe the gods, I am asham'd on X Denied 
that honourable man! there was very little 
honour showed in 't For my own part, I must 
needs confess, I have received some little 
kindnesses from him, as money, plate, jewels, 
and such-like trifles, nothing comparing to his; 
yet, had he mistook him, and sent to me,^ I 
should ne'er have denied his occasion so many 
talents. 

Enter Servilius. 

Servil. See, by good hap, yonder 's my lord ; 
I have sweat to see his honour. — [To Lucius] 
My honoured lord, — 29 

Luc Servilius! you are kindly met, sir. Fare 
thee well: commend me to thy honourable 
Tirtuous lord, my very exquisite friend. 

Servil. "Maj it please your honour, my lord 
bath sent — 

Luc Ha! what has he sent? I am so much 
endeared to that lord; he 's ever sending: how 
shall I thank him, think'st thou? And what 
has he sent now? 

ServiL Has only sent his present occasion 
now, my lord; requesting your lordship to 
supply his instant use with so many talents. 

1 Had he mistook him, and sent to me, had he sent to 
me by mistake. 



Luc, I know his lordship is but merry with 
me; 
He cannot want fifty five hundred talents. 

Servil. But in the mean time he wants less, 
my lord. 
If his occasion were not virtuous, 
I should not urge it half so faithfully.^ 46 

Luc Dost thou speak seriously, Servilius? 

Servil. Upon my soul, 't is true, sir. 

Luc What a wicked beast was I to disfur- 
nish myself against such a good time, when I 
might ha' shown myself honourable! how im- 
luckily it happened, that I should purchase the 
day before for a little part, and undo a great 
deal of honour! — Servilius, now, before the 
gods, I am not able to do, — the more beast, I 
say: — I was sending to use Lord Timon my- 
self, these gentlemen can witness; but I would 
not, for the wealth of Athens, I had done 't 
now. Commend me bountifully to his good 
lordship; and I hope his honour will conceive 
the fairest of me, because I have no power to 
be kind : — and tell him this from me, I count 
it one of my greatest afflictions, say, that I 
cannot pleasure such an honourable gentleman. 
Grood Servilius, will you befriend me so far, as 
to use mine own words to him? 

Servil. Yes, sir, I shalL 

Luc. I '11 look you out a good turn, Servilius. 

[Exit Servilius. 
True, as you said, Timon is shrunk indeed; 
And he that 's once deni'd will hardly speed. 

[Exit. 

First Stran. Did you observe this, Hostilius? 

Sec Stran. Ay, too well. 

First Stran. Why, this is the world's soul; 
and just of the same piece 
Is every flatterer's spirit. Who can call him 
His friend that dips in the same dish? for, in 
My knowing, Timon has been this lord's father, 
And kept his credit with his purse; 
Supported his estate; nay, Timon's money 
Has paid his men their wages: he ne'er drinks, 
But Timon's silver treads upon his lip; 
And yet — O, see the monstrousness of man 
When he looks out in an ungrateful shape! — 
He does deny him, in respect of his,^ 81 

What charitable men aflbrd to beggars. 

> PaiihfuUy, earnestly. 

* In respect qf his, in proportion to hit own fortune. 

31 



ACT III. Scene 8. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT III. Scene 4. 



Third Stran. Beligion groans at it 
First Straru For miDe own part, 

I never tasted Timon in my life, 
Nor came any of his bounties over me, 
To mark me for his friend; yet, I protest, 
For his right noble mind, illustrious virtue, 
And honourable carriage. 
Had his necessity made use of me, 89 

I would have put my wealth into donation, 
And the best half should have returned to him,^ 
So much I love his heart: but I perceive 
Men must learn now with pity to dispense; 
For policy^ sits above conscience. [Exeunt. 

Scene III. A room in Sempronitu^ hoiue. 

Enter Sempronius, and a Servant o/Timo^b, 

Sem, Must he needs trouble me in % — hum! 

— *bove all others? 
He might have tried Lord Lucius or Lucullus; 
And now Ventidius is wealthy too. 
Whom he redeemed from prison: all these 
Owes their estates unto him. 

Serv, My lord, 

They have all been touch'd, and found base 

metal; for 
They have all deni'd him. 

Sent. How! have they deni'd him? 

Has Ventidius and Lucullus deni'd him? 
And does he send to me? Three? hum! — 
It shows but little love or judgment in him: 
Must I be his last refuge? His friends, like 

physicians, ii 

Thrive, give him over: must I take the cure 

upon me? 
Has much disgraced me in 't ; I 'm angry at him. 
That might have known my place: I see no 

sense for% 
But his occasions might have wooed me first ; 
For, in my conscience, I was the first man 
That e'er received gift from him: 
And does he think so backwardly of me now. 
That 1 11 requite it last? No: 
So it may prove an argument of laughter 20 
To the rest, and 'mongst lords I be thought a 

fooL 
I 'd rather than the worth of thrice the sum, 



1 Return' d to him, fallen to hl« share. 
> Policy, selfish prudence. 

32 



Had sent to me first, but for my mind's sake; 
I 'd such a courage ^ to do him good. But now 

return. 
And with their faint reply this answer join: 
Who bates* mine honour shall not know my 

coin. [EanU 

Serv, Excellent! Your lordship 's a goodly 
villain. The devil knew not what he did when 
he made man politic,^ — he crossed himself by 't: 
and I cannot think but, in the end, the villa- 
nies of man will set him clear. How fairly 
this lord strives to appear foul! takes virtuous 
copies to be wicked; like those that, under hot 
ardent zeal, would set whole realms on fire: 
Of such a nature is his politic love. 
This was my lord's best hope; now all are fled. 
Save only the gods: now his friends are dead. 
Doors, that were ne'er acquainted with their 

wards® 
Many a bounteous year, must be employ'd 
Now to guard sure their master. 40 

And this is all a liberal course allows; 
Who cannot 'keep his wealth must keep his 

house. [Exit. 

Scene IV. The same. A hall in Timon*s 

house. 

Enter tico Servants o^ Varro, and the Servant 
of Lucius, meeting Titus, Hortensius, and 
other Servants of TiMoy's creditors^ xcaiting 
his coming out. 

First Var, Serv. Well met; good morrow, 
Titus and Hortensius. 

Tit. The like to you, kind Varro. 

Mor. Lucius ! 

What, do we meet together? 

Lue. Serv. Ay, and I think 

One business does command us all; for mine 
Is money. 

Tit. So is theirs and ours. 

Enter Philotus. 

Luc. Serv. And Sir Philotus too! 

Phi. Good day at once. 
Luc. Serv. Welcome, good brother. 

What do you think the hour ? 

> Courage, ardour, eager desire. * Batet, diminishes. 
s Politic, canning, selfishly prudent 
« Ward9, bolts. 



ACT IIL Scene 4. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT III. Soene 4. 



PkL Labouring for nine. 

Luc. Serv. So much ? 
Phi. Is not my lord seen yet? 

Luc. Serv. Not yet. 

Pki I wonder on 't; he was wont to shine 
at seven. lo 

Lac. Serv. Ay, but the days are wax'd 
shorter with him: 
You must consider that a prodigal course 
Is Like the sun's; but not, like his, recoverable. 
I fear 'tis deepest winter in Lord Timon's 

purse; 
That is, one may reach deep enough, ar.d yet 
Find little. 
PhL I am of your fear for that 

Tit. I '11 show you how t' observe a strange 
event. 
Your lord sends now for money. 
Hor. Most true, he does. 

Tit. And he wears jewels now of Timon's 
gift. 
For which I wait for money. 20 

Jlor. It is against my heart. 
Luc. Serv. Mark, how strange it shows, 
Timon in this should pay more than he owes; 
And e'en as if your lonl should wear rich jewels. 
And send for money for 'em. 

J/or. I 'm weary of this charge,^ the gods 

can witness: 

I know my lord hath spent of Timon's wealth. 

And now ingratitude makes it worse than 

stealth. 

First Var. Serv. Yes, mine 's three thousand 

crowns: what 's yours ? 
Luc. Serv. Five thousand mine. 
First Var. Serv. 'TIS much deep: and it 
should seem by the sum so 

Your master^s contidence was above mine; 
Else, surely, his^ had equalled. 

Enter FLAMixiua 

Tit. One of Lord Timon's men. 

Luc. Serv. Flaminius! — Sir, a word: pray, 
in my lord ready to come forth? 

Flam. No, indeed, he is not. 

Tit. We attend his lordship; pray, signify 
so much. 88 



1 Charge, commistion, office, 
s Hi$; It, my maiter'a. 
VOL. VII. 



Flam. I need not tell him that; he knows 
you are too diligent. [Eivit. 

Filter Flavius in a cloak, muffled. 

Luc. Serv. Ha! is not that his steward 
muffled so? 
He goes away in a cloud: call him, call him. 

Tit. Do you hear, sir ? 

Sec. Var. Serv. By your leave, sir, — 

Flav. What do ye ask of me, my friend ? 

Tit. We wait for certain money here, sir. 

Flav. Ay, 

If money were as certain as your waiting, 
T were sure enough. 48 

Why then pref err'd you not your sums and bills 
When your false masters eat of my lord's meat? 
Then they could smile, and fawn upon his debts. 
And take down th' interest into their glutton- 
ous maws. 
You do yourselves but wrong to stir me up; 
Let me pass quietly: 

Believe 't, my lord and I have made an end; 
I have no more to reckon, he to spend. 

Luc. Serv. A v, but this answer will not serve. 

Flav. If 't will not serve, 'tis not so base as 
you; 
For you serve knaves. [Exit. 

First Var. Serv. How! what does his 
cashier'd worship mutter ] eo 

Sec. Var. Serv. No matter what; he 'spoor, 
and that 's revenge enough. Who can speak 
broader^ than he that has no house to put his 
head in? such may rail against great buildings. 

Enter Servilics. 

Tit. 0, here 's Servilius; now we shall know 
some answer. 

Servil. If I might beseech you, gentlemen, 
to repair some other hour, I should derive 
much from 't; for, take 't of my soul, my loixl 
leans wondrously to discontent: his comfort- 
able temper has forsook him ; he 's much out 
of health, and keeps his chamber. 73 

Luc. Serv. Many do keep their chambers 
are not sick: 
And, if it be so far beyond his health, 
Methinks he should the sooner |)ay his debt^, 
And make a clear way to the gods. 



* Broader, more freely. 
33 



169 



Ta. We cannot take this for : 
Mam. [ Withia] Servilius, help!— My lord! 
my lord ! 

Enter TiHOH, in a rage; FhAMinifja foUomng. 

Tim. What, are my doors oppoe'd against 

my passage! so 



TIMON OF ATHENS. act ill. So«» s 

Good gods! I Have I beeu ever free, and must my house 



Be my retentive enemy, my gaol ! 

The place which I have feaat«d, does it 

Like all maukiud, show me an iron hearti 
Lac. Sem. Put in now, Titua. 
Tit. My lord, here is my bilL 
Lue. Serv. Here 'a mine. 




ffor. And mine, my lord. 

Both V<v. S«rv. And own, my lord. 

Phi. All our bills. w) 

Tim. Knock me down with 'em: cleave me 

to the girdle. 
Luc Serv. Alas, my lord, — 
7\m. Cut my heart in sums. 
Tit. Mme, fifty talents. 
Tim. Tell out my blood. 
Luc. Sere. Five tliotisaiiil crowns, my lord. 
Tim. Five thousand drojia i)ay8 that— What 

yours?— and yoursl 
Firtt Var. Setv'. My lord,— 
See, Var. Serv. My lord,— at 



Tirn. Tear me, take me, and the gods fall 
u])on youl [firir. 

/for. Faith, 1 perceive our masters may 
tlimw their CiL])H at their money: these debtM 
may well be call'd desperate ones, for a mad- 
man owes 'em. [£xeu»t. 

Re-tDter Tivon and Flavicb. 
Tim. They have e'en put my breath from 
me, the slaven. Creili torsi— devils. 
Flai: My dear lonl,— 
Tim. Wliat if it should be so! 
Flar. My lord,— 
Tim. I '11 have it so. — My steward ! 



ACT III. Scene 5. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT III. 8ceike 5. 



/7a P. Here, my lord. no 

Tim. So fitly? Go, bid all my friends again, 
Lucius, Lucullus, and Sempronius: 
All, sirrah, all: 
I '11 once more feast the rascala 

/?«!?. O my lord. 

You only speak from your distracted soul; 
There is not so much left to furnish out 
A moderate table. 

Titn. Be 't not in thy care; go, 

I charge thee, invite them all: let in the tide 
Of knaves once more; my cook and I '11 pro- 
vide. [Exeunt, 

Scene V. The same. The senate-house. 

The Senate sitting. 

First Sen. My lord, you have my voice to it; 
the fault 's 
Bloody; 'tis necessary he should die: 
Nothing emboldens sin so much as mercy. 
Sec. Sen. Most true; the law shall bruise 
him. 

Enter Alcibiades, attended. 

Alcib. Honour, health, and compassion to 
the senate! 

Eirst Sen. Now, captain? 

A !cib. I am an humble suitor to your virtues ; 
For pity is the virtue of the law. 
Ami none but tyrants use it cruelly. 
It pleases time and fortune to lie heavy lo 
Upon a friend of mine, who, in hot blood. 
Hath stepped into the law, which is pa^ depth 
To those that, without heed, do plunge into 't 
He is a man, setting his fate^ aside, 
<Jf comely virtues: 

Nor did he soil the fact* with cowardice. 
An honour in him which buys out his fault; 
But with a noble fury and fair spirit, 
Seeing his reputation touched to death. 
He did oppose his foe: 20 

And with such sober and unnoted^ passion 
He did behave* his anger, ere 't was spent,* 
As if he had but prov'd an argument 

First Sen. You undergo' too strict^ a [)aradox. 



1 Hi* fate, his evil destiny. 
3 Unnoted, imperceptible. 
* Spent, Tented, indulged. 
^ UndergOy undertake. 



2 F(iet, crime. 
^ Behave, manage. 

t Strict, difficult. 



Striving to make an ugly deed look fair: 
Your wonls have took such pains, as if they 

labour'd 
To bring manslaughter into form, and set 

quarrelling 
Upon the head of valour; which indeed 
Is valour niisbegot, and came into the world 
When sects and factions were newly boni : 
He 's truly valiant that can wisely suffer si 
Tlie worst tliat man can breathe; and make 

his wrongs 
His outsides, — to wear them like his raiment, 

carelessly; 
And ne'er prefer^ his injuries to his heart. 
To bring it into danger. 
If wrongs be evils, and enforce us kill. 
What folly 't is to hazard life for ill ! 
Alcib. My lord, — 
First Sen. You cannot make gross sins 

look cle<ir: 
To revenge is no valour, but to Ijear. 

Alcib. My lords, then, under favour, pardon 

me, 40 

If I 8[)eak like a ca])tain : — 
Why do fond men expose themselves to 

battle. 
And not endure all threat*- ! sleep upon 't. 
And let the foes quietly cut their throats. 
Without repugnancy ? If there be 
Such valour in the bearing, what make we 
Abroad ? why, then, women are more valiant 
That stay at home, if bearing carry it; 
And the ass more ca{)tain than the lion; the 

felon 
Loaden with irons wiser than the judge, so 
If wisdom be in suffering. O my lords. 
As you are great, be pitifully good: 
Who cannot con<lemn nishness in cold blood? 
To kill, I grant, is sin's extreniest gust;^ 
But, in defence, 1>y mercy, *^ 't is most just. 
To be in Jinger is impiety; 
But who is man that is not anofrv? 
Weigh but the crime with this. 
Sec. S(^n. You breathe in vain. 
Alcib. In vain I his service done 

At Lacedtemon and Byzantium 60 

Were a sufficient briber for his life. 



« Prefer, present. » Gmt, fnry. 

10 By mercy, by ydur mercy, by your leave. 

36 



ACT III. Scene 6. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT III. Scene 6. 



First Seiu What 's that ? «2 

Alcib. Why, say, my lords, he has done fair 
service, 
And slain in fight many of your enemies: 
.How full of valour did he bear himself 
In the last conflict, and made plenteous wounds! 

Sec. Setu He has made too much plenty 
with *em; 
He 's a sworn^ rioter: he has a sin that often 
Drowns him, and takes his valour prisoner: 
If there were no foes, that were enough 70 
To overcome him: in that beastly fury 
He has been known to commit outrages 
And cherish factions: 'tis inferr'd' to us 
His days are foul, and his drink^ dangerous. 

First iSen. He dies. 

Alcib, Hard fate! he might have died 

in war. 
My lords, if not for any parts in him, — 
Though his right arm might purchase his own 

time,* 
And be in debt to none, — ^yet, more to move 

you, 
Take my deserts to his, and join 'em both: 
And, for I know your reverend ages love 80 
Security, I '11 pawn my victories, all 
My honours to you, uix)n liis good returns.* 
If by this crime he owes the law his life. 
Why, let the war receive 't in valiant gore; 
For law is strict, and war is nothing more. 

First Sen. We are for law, — he dies; urge it 
no more, 
On height of our displeasure : friend or brother. 
He forfeits his own blood that spills another.^ 

Alcib. Must it be so? it must not be. My 
lords, 
I do beseech you, know me. 90 

Sec. Sen. Howl 

Al^nb. Call me to your remembrances. 

Third Sen. Wliat I 

Alcib. I cannot think but your age has for- 
got me; 
It could not else be I should prove so base 
To sue, and be denied such conmicm grace: 
My wounds ake" at you. 

1 Sufom, i.e. inveterate. * Inferr'd, alleged, 

s Hi* drink, his drinking, carousing. 

* Tiinr, life. * Rttunut. re<iiiital. 

* Another, i.e. another blooil thnn his own. 

7 Ake, the spelling of the Folio. Bee note 31. 

36 



First Sen. Do you dare our anger? 

'Tis in few words, but spacious m effect; 
We banish thee for ever. 

Alcib. Banish me! 

Banish your dotage; banish usury, 
That makes the senate ugly. loo 

First Sen. If after two davs' shine Athens 
contain thee, 
Attend^ our weightier judgment And, not 

to swell® our spirit. 
He shall be executed presently. 

[Exeunt Senators. 

Alcib. Now the gods keep you old enough; 
that you may live 
Only in bone, that none may look on you ! 
I 'm worse than mad : I liave kept back their 

foes, 
Wldle they have told their money, and let out 
Their coin upon large interest; I myself 108 
Rich only in large hurts; — all those for this? 
Is tins the balsam that the usuring senate 
Pours into captains' wounds? Banishment! 
It comes not ill; I hate not to be banish'd; 
It is a ciiuse worthy my spleen and fury, 
That I may strike at Athens. I '11 cheer up 
My discontented troops, and lay for hearts.*^ 
'TIS honour with most lands to be at odds; 
Soldiers should brook as little wrongs as god.n. 

Scene VI. The same. A banqueting-room in 
Tinion^s house. 

Music. Tables set out: Servants attending. 
Enter divers Lords^ Se^iators, and others, at 
several doors. 

First Lord. The good time of day to you, sir. 

Sec. Lord. I also wish it to you. I think 
this honourable lord did but try us this other 
day. 

First Lord. Upon that were my thoughts 
tiring ^^ when we encounter'd: I hope it is not 
so low with him as he made it seem in the 
trial of his seveml friends. 

Sec. Lord. It should not be, l)y the ])er8ua- 
sion of his new feasting. » 

' Attend, exiiect. * SirtU, i.e. with anger. 

10 Lay for heart k, lay baits for them, strive to enlist 
them; or, lay myself out for them. 

11 Tiring, eagerly feeding, like a hawk. 



ACT IIL » 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT III. E 



Pint Lord. I should tbink so: he luith sent 
me an earnest inviting, which msxiy my uear 
occasions did urge me t« put off; but he hath 
conjur'd me beyond them, and I must needs 

Ste. Lord. In like m&nner waa I iu debt to 
m; importanate business, but he would not 



hear my exciist:. I am sorry, when he sent to 
borrow of me, that my prorisiou was out. 

Firtt Lord. I am sick of that grief too, as I 
understand how all things go. x 

Sec. Lord. Every man here's bo. What 
would he have borrowed of you? 

Firti Lord. A thousand pieces. 




Src. Lord. A thousand pieces! 
First Lord. What of you? 
Stc. Lord. He sent to me, sii 



Enia- Tmos and AtCeadantt. 

Tint. With all my heart, gentlemen both:— 
and how fare you? 

FirtI Lini. Ever at the best, hearing well 
of your lordship. so 

fSec. Lord. The swallow follows not summer 
more willing than we your lordship. 

TV/a- [Atidel Nor more willingly leaves win- 
ter; such sammer-birds are men.— Ceiitleroeii, 
our dinner will not recompense this long stay: 
feast your ears with the music awhile, if they 
will fare so harshly o' the trumjiet's soumi ; we 
shall to 't preaently. 



Firil Lord. I hope it remains not unkindly 
with your lordship, that I retum'd you an 
empty messenger. 40 

Tim. O, sir, let it not trouble you. 

Sec. Lord. My noble lord, — 

Tiin. Ah, my good friend,— what cheer! 

Sec. Lord. My most honourable lord, I am 
e'en sick of shame, that, when your lordship 
this other day sent to me, I was so unfortunate 
a beggar. 

Tim. Think not on 't, sir. 

Sec. Lord. If you had sent but two hours 

Tim. Let it not cumber your better remem- 
brance. —[7*A« iKinqael brought in.] Ctome, 
bring in nil tjigetlier. 

.'fee. Lord. All cover'd dishes! 

First Lord. Royal cheer, I warrant you. 
37 



ACT III. Scene 6. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT III. Soene 6. 



Third Lord. Doubt not that, if money and 
the season can yield it. 

First Lord. How do you? What's the news? 

Third Lord. Alcibiades is banish'd: hear you 
of it? eo 

First and Sec. Lord. Alcibiades banish'd! 

Third Lord. T is so, be sure of it 

First Lord. Howl how! 

Sec. Lord. I pray you, upon what? 

Tim. My worthy friends, will you draw near? 

Third Lord. I'll tell you more anon. Here's 
a noble feast toward. 

Sec. Jjord. This is the old man stilL 

Third Lord. Will 't hold ? will 't hold ? 70 

Sec. Lord. It does: but time will — and so — 

Third Lord. I do conceive. 

Tim. Each man to his stool, with that spur 
as he would to the lip of his mistress: your diet 
shall be in all places alike. Make not a city 
feast of it, to let the meat cool ere we can agree 
upon the first place: sit, sit The gods require 
our thanks. — 

You great benefactors, sprinkle our society 
with thankfulness. For your own gifts, make 
yourselves prais'd: but reserve still to give, lest 
your deities be despised. Lend to each man 
enough, that one need not lend to another; for, 
were your godheads to borrow of men, men 
would forsake the gods. Make the meat be 
l)eloved more than the man who gives it. Let 
no assembly of twenty be without a score of 
villains: if there sit twelve women at the table, 
let a dozen of them be — as they are. The rest 
of your fees, O gods, — the senators of Athens, 
together with the common lag of people, — 
what is amiss in them, you gods, make suit- 
able for destruction. For tliese my present 
friends, — as they are to me nothing, so in no- 
thing bless them, and to nothing are they wel- 
come. — 

Uncover, dogs, and lap. 

\The dishes are uticovered, and seen 
to l)efuU of warm water. 
Some speak. What does his lordship mean ? 
Some other. I know not 
Tim. May you a better feast never behold, 

38 



You knot of mouth-friends! smoke and luke- 
warm water oo 
Is your perfection.^ Tliis is Timon's last; 
Who, stuck and spangled with your flatteries. 
Washes it off, and sprinkles in your faces 

[Throwing the \cater in their faces. 
Your reeking villany. Live loath'd, and long. 
Most smiling, smooth, detested parasites. 
Courteous destroyers, affable wolves, meek 

bears. 
You fools of fortune, trencher-friends, time's 

flies. 
Cap and knee slaves, vapours, and minute- 
jacks!* 
Of man and be^ist the infinite malady 
Crust you quite o'er! — What, dost thou go? 
Soft! take thy physic first, — ^thou too, — and 
thou; — 110 

Stay, I will lend thee money, born>w none. — 
[Pelts them with stones^ ami drives them out. 
What, all in motion? Henceforth be no feast 
Whereat a villain *s not a welcome guest 
Burn, house! sink, Athens! henceforth hated 

l)e 
Of Timoii man and all humanity! [Ejtnt. 

lie-enter the Lords, Senators, <tc. 

First Lord. How now, my lords! 

Sec. Lord. Know yon the quality of Lord 
Timons fury? 

Third Ijord. Push!^ did you see my cap? 

Fourth JA)rd. I have lost my gown. i*jo 

First Lord. He 's but a mad loixl, iuid naught 
but humour sways him. He gave me a jewel 
th* other day, and now he ht'ts beat it out of 
my hat: — did you see my jewel? 

Third Lord. Did you see my cap? 

Sec. Lord. Here 't is. 

Fourth I^rd. Here lies my gown. 

First Lord. Ijct 's make no stiy. 

Sec. Lord. Lord Timon 's mad. 

Third Lord. I feel 't upon my bones. 

Fourth Lord. One day he gives us diamonds, 
next day stones. [Kreunt. 

1 Your perfection, your Bum-total, all yoa amount to. 
s Minute-jcLck*, fickle time-Mnren. 
^ Piuh! pish! 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ScexbI. Without the vniU of Atheiu. 



Tint. Let me look back upon thee. O thou 
wall, 
TImtgirdlest in those wolves, dive in the earth, 
5Aiii] fence nut Athens! [Matrons, turn iiiciin- 

Obedience fail in children! slaves and foola, 
Pluck the grave wrinkled senate from the 

' Ami minister in their ateudri I [tiigeneral filths' 
' C'-ouvert' o' th' instant, green virginity, — 
^Do't in your pareuta' eyes!] bankrupts, hold 
fast; 
Bather than render back, out with your knives, 
Andcut your trusters' throats! bound servants. 

Large- Linded robbers your grave masters are, 
; And {>ilP bylaw: [maid, to thy master's bed,— 
Thy mistress iso' the brothel! J son of sixteen. 
Pluck the lin'd* crutch from thy old limping 

With it boat out his brains! piety, and fear, 
Religion to the gods, j)eace, justice, truth, 
iMuieHtic awe, night-reat, and neighbourhood, 
Instruction, manneni, mysteries,' and trades, 
l>egrei»i, observances, customs, and laws, 
l>ecliue to your confoumliug contraries, so 
And let confusion live 1— Plagues incident to 

Your {>otent and infectious fevers heap 
(hi Athens, ripe for stroke! thou cold sciatica, 
(Vipple our senators, that their limbs may halt 
As lamely as their manners! lust and liberty" 
(Veep in the minds a:id uuirrows of our youth. 
That 'gainst the stream of virtue they may 

And drown tlieniflelves iu riot! itches, blains, 
Sow all th' Athenian boeoms; and their crop 
Be general leprosy! breath infect breath; 50 
That their society, as their friendship, may 

I OmrratfilOit. cnmninn pnatltnlM. 

1 Omeiri, chuiga jniorHlFei, 

' PiO. pillage. • LJn'd, (tuned. p«dd«d. 

• Mififtnet. ollingi. pi 

• LAtrln, llomiUsiuDH 



Be merely poisonl Nothing I'll bear from 

But nakedness, thou detestable town! 
Take thou that too, with multiplying bans! 
Timon will to the woods; where he shall find 




Th' unkindest beast more kinder than man- 
kind. 

The gods confound — hear me, you gooti gods 
all— 

Th' Athenians both within and out that wall ! 

And grant, as Timon grows, his hate may 
grow ss 

To the whole race of mankind, high and low ! 

Amen. [£xil. 

ScEN^ II. Jt&eTU. A room in Timon'* house. 

Enter Flavivs, v^fi tieo or three ServaitU. 

Finl Serv. Hear you, master st«ward, — 

where 'fl our manter? 

Are we undone? castotTI nothing remaining? 



ACT IV. Scene 2. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT IV. Scene 3. 



Fluv, Alack, my fellows, what should I say 
to you ? 
Let me be recorded by the righteous gods, 
I am as poor as you. 

First Serv. Such a house broke! 

So noble a master fallen! All gone! and not 
One friend to take his fortune by the arm, 
And go along with him! 

Sec. Serv. As we do turn our backs 

From our companion thrown into his grave, 
So his familiars to his buried fortunes lo 

Slink all away; leave their false vows with 

him, 
Like empty purses pick'd; and his jKX)r self, 
A dedicated beggar to the air, 
With his disease of all-shuim'd poverty. 
Walks, like contem])t, alone. — More of our 
fellows. 

Enter other Servants. 

Flav. All broken implements of a ruin'd 

house. 
Third Serv. Yet do our hearts wear Timon^s 

livery, — 
That see I by our faces; we ai*e fellows still, 
Serving alike in sorrow: leak'd is our bark; 
And we, poor mates, stand on the dying 

deck, 20 

Hearing the surges threat: we must all part 
Into this sea of air. 

Fluv. Good fellows all, 

The latest of my wealth I'll sliare amongst 

you. 
Wherever we shall meet, for Tinion's sake, 
Let 's yet be fellows; let 's shake our heads, 

and say. 
As 'twere a knell unto our master's fortunes, 
"We have seen better days." Let each take 

some; [(riving theni money. 

Nay, j)ut out all your hands. Not one word 

more: 28 

Thus part we rich in sorrow, parting jrioor. 

[Servants emhracey and part several \oaifs. 
O the fierce wretchedness that glory brings us! 
Who would not wish to be from wealth exempt. 
Since riches point to misery and contempt? 
Who'd be so mock'd with glor\'? or to live^ 
But in a dream of friendship ? 

I Or to Uve, ie. or wish to live. 
40 



To have his pomp, and all what state com- 
pounds,^ 
But only painted, like his vamish'd friends f 
Poor honest lord, brought low by his own 

heart. 
Undone by goodness! Strange, unusual blood,' 
When man's worst sin is, he does too much 
good! 39 

Who, then, dares to be half so kind agen? 
For bounty, that makes gods, does stiU mar 

men. 
My dearest lord, — blest, to be most accurst. 
Rich, only to be wretched, — thy great fortuuefl 
Are made thy chief afflictions. Alas, kind 

lord! 
He 's flung in rage from this ingratef ul seat 
Of monstrous friends; nor has he with him Ut 
Supply his life, or that which can command it. 
I '11 follow, and inquire him out: 4S 

I '11 ever serve his mind with mv best will : 
Whilst I have gold, I '11 be his steward still. 

[Exit. 

Scene III. Woods and cave, near the 
sea-sfvore. 

Enter TiMON,/row the care. 

Tim. O blessed breeding sun, dmw fix>m the 

earth 
Botteu humidity; below thy sistei^'s orb 
Infect the air! Twiim'd brothers of one 

womb, — 
Whose procreation, residence, and birth. 
Scarce is dividant, — touch them with several 

fortunes. 
The greater scorns the lesser: not nature. 
To whom all sores lay siege, can bear great 

fortune. 
But by contempt of nature. 
Baise me this beggar, and deny 't* that lord; 
The senator shall bear contempt hereditary*, 
The l^gg^ir native honour. u 

It is the pasture lards the rother's* sides. 
The want that makes him lean. Who dares, 

wlio dares. 
In purity of manhood stand upright. 
And say, ** This man 's a flatterer?" if one be, 

s What ttate eompoutuU, that which compoaes state. 

s Blood, disposition, temper 

* T, te. elevation. * Bother, an ox. 



So are they all; for every grise' of fortune 
Is anioiith'd' by that below: the learned 

Ducks to the golden foul: all in oblique; 
There's nothing level* in our cursed naturcH, 
But direct villfuiy. Therefore, be abhorr'd 
All feasts, societies, and throngs of men! a 
His HembUble, yea, himself, Timon disdains; 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 

Deatmctiriti fang* mankimi 



ACT IV. Sotaa 3. 



Earth, yielil me 

Who seeks for better of thee, sauce his palnte 
With thy most operant poisou 1 — What is 

here? 
Gold ? yellow, glittering, precious gold I No, 

goda, 
I am no idle votarist: roots, you clear heavens! 



wt 


^^tt 


shP^ ^ 


^fl|^^^n]| 




wi 






Thns much of this will make black, while; 

foul, fair; 
Wrong, right; base, noble; old, young; coward, 

valiant 
Ha-yougodsl wbytbisi what this, you gods? 

Why, this 30 

Will lug your priests and servants from your 

Pluck stout men's pillows from below their 

TliiM yellow slave 

Will knit and break religions; bless th' ac- 

cun'd; 
Make the hoar leprosy ador'd; place thieves. 
And give them title, knee, and approbation. 



I Smrwih'd. flitWrod. 



With seuattirs on the bench: C-'''* '* '* ', 

That makes the wiippen'U' widow wed again;^ 
She, whom the spital- house and ulcerous sores \ 
Would cast the gorge" at, this embalms and' 
spices w ') 

To th' April day again. Come, damned earth, I 
Thou common whore of mankind, that putt'st ', 

Among the rout' of nations, I will make thee; 
Dothyrightuature.>-[J/<ircA«/aro/] Ha! a; 

drum?— Tliou'rt quick. 
But yet I'll bury thee: thou 'It go, strong 

thief. 
When gouty keepers of thee cannot stand:— 
Nay, stay thou out for i^amest. 

[Keejniiff tome ffold. 



ACT IV. Scene 3. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT IV. Scene 8. 



Enter Alcibiades, rcith drum and fife^ in war- 
like manner; Phrynia and Timandba. 

Alcib, What art thou there 1 

Speak. 

Tim. A beast, as thou art. The canker 
gnaw thy heart, 
For showing me again the eyes of man! fio 
Alcib, What is thy name? Is man co hate- 
ful to thee, 
That art thyself a man? 

Tim^ I am Mi9anthropo9y and hate mankind. 
For thy part, I do wish thou wert a dog. 
That I might love thee something. 

.1^1*6. I know thee well; 

But in thy fortunes am unlearn'd and strange. 

Tim. I know thee too; and more than that 

I know thee, 

I not desire to know. Follow thy drum; 

With man's blood paint the ground, gules, 

gules: 
Religious canons, civil laws are cruel; 60 

Tlien what should war be? This fell whore of 

tliine 
Hath in her more destruction tlian thy sword. 
For all her chorubin look. 

) C ^f^n/' Thy lips rot off! 

[ Tim. I w il 1 not kiss thee ; then the rot returns 
iTo thine own lips again.] 

Al<:ih. How came the noble Timon to this 

change i 
Tim. As the moon does, by wanting light 
to give: 67 

But then renew I could not, like the moon; 
There were no suns to borrow of. 

Alcib. Noble Timon, 

What friendship may I do thee? 

Tim. None, but to 

Maintain my opinion. 

A Icib. What is it, Timon ? 

Tim. Promise me friendship, but perform 
none: if thou wilt not promise, the gods plague 
thee, for thou art a man! if thou dost i)erform, 
confound thee, for thou art a man! 

Alcib, I 've heard in some sort of thy 

miseries. 
TVm. Thou saVst them, when I had pro- 
sperity. 
Alcib. I see them now; then was a blesse<l 
time. 

42 



Tim. As thine is now, held with a brace of 

harlots. 
Timan. Is this th' Athenian minion,^ whom 
the world 80 

Voic'd so regardfuUy? 

Tim. Art thou Timandra ? 

Timan. Yes. 

Tim. [ Be a whore still: they love thee not 
that use thee; 
Give them diseases, leaving with thee their 

lust. ] 
Make use of thy salt hours: season the slaves 
For tubs and baths; bring down rose-cheek'd 

vouth to 
The tub-fiist and the diet 

Timan. Hang thee, monster! 

AlciJb. Pardon him, sweet Timandra; for his 
wits 
Are drown'd and lost in his calamities. — 
I have but little gold of late, brave Timon, 90 
Tlie want whereof doth daily make i-evolt 
In my i)enuriou8* band : I Ve heaixl, and 

giiev'd. 
How cursed Athens, mindless of thy worth, 
Forgetting thy great deeds, when neighbour 

states. 
But for thy sword and fortune, trod upon 
them, — 
Tim. I i)iithee, beat thy drum, and get thee 

gone. 
Alcib. I am thy friend, and pity thee, dear 

Timon. 
Tim. How dost thou pity him whom thou 
dost trouble? 
I had rather be alone. 

Alcib. Why, fare thee well: 

Here 's some gold for thee. 

Tim. Keep % I cannot eat it 

Alcib. When I have laid proud Athens on 
a heap,— lOi 

Tim. Warr^st thou 'gainst Athens? 
Alcib. Ay, Timon, and have cause. 

Tim. The gods confound them all in thy 
conquest ; 
And thee after, when thou 'st conquei-'dl 
Alcib. Why me, Timon ? 
Tim. That, by killing of villains, 

Thou wast bom to conquer my country. 



1 Minion, favourite. 



s PtnurUmSt dettitate. 



ACT IV. Scene 3. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT IV. Scene S. 



Put up thy gold: go ou, — here ^s gold, — go on; 
Be as a planetary* plague, when Jove 
Will o'er some high-vic'd city hang his poison 
In the sick air: let not thy sword skip one: 
Pity not honour'd age for his white beard, — 
lie is an usurer: strike me the counterfeit 
matron, — 112 

It is her habit only that is honest, 
;[ Herself 's a bawd: let not the virgin's cheek 
Make soft thy trenchant sword; for those milk- 

paps, 
That through the window-bars * bore at men's 

eyes, 
Are not within the leaf of pity writ, 
But set them down horrible tiuitora : ] spare not 

the babe. 
Whose dimpled smiles from fools exhaust their 

mercv; 
[Think it a bastard, whom the oracle 120 
Hath doubtfully^ pronounc'd thy throat shall 

cut, 
And mince it sans remorse:*] swear against 

objects;* 
Put armour on thine ears and on thine eyes; 
AVhose proof, nor yells of mothers, maids, nor 

balies. 
Nor sight of priests in holy vestments bleeding, 
Shall pierce a jot. Tliere 's gold to jMiy thy 

soldiers: 
Make large confusion; and, thy fury spent. 
Confounded be thyself I S])eak not, be gone. 
Alcib. Hast thou gold yet ? I '11 take the 

gold thou giv'st me, 
Not all thy counsel. iso 

Tim. Dost thou, or dost thou not, heaven's 

curse upon thee! 
Q Phr. and Tinian. Give us some gold, good 

Timon: hast thou more? 
Tim. Enough to make a whore forswear her 

trade, 
And to make whores, a bawd. Hold up, you 

sluts, 
Your aprons moun tant :® you are not oathable, — 
Although, I know, you '11 swear, terribly swear, 
' Into strong shudders and to heavenly agues, 

1 Planetary, prodnced by a planet 

> Window4>ar9. the lattice-woric of the bodice. 

* DoHb^uUy, ambignoosly. * Retnorte, pity. 

* Object*, i.e. objects of compassion. 

* Mcnntani, raised to receive the gold. 



Th' immortal gods that hear you,— spare your 

oaths, 
I '11 trust to your conditions :7 be whores still; 
And he whose pious breath seeks to convert 

you, 140 

Be strong in whore, allure him, bum him up; 
Let your close® fire predominate his smoke, 
And be no turncoats: yet may your pains, six 

months, 
Be quite contrary: and thatch your i)oor thin 

roofs 
With burdens of the dead; — some that were 

liang'd. 
No matter: — wear them, betray with them: 

whore still; 
Paint till a horse may mire^ upon your face: 
A pox of wrinkles! 

Phr. and Timan. Well, more gold: — what 

then ? — 149 

Believe 't, that we '11 do any thing for gold. 

Tiin.'^ Consumptions sow 
In hollow bones of man; strike theirsharpshins, 
And mar men's sjmrring. Crack the lawyer's 

voice. 
That he may never more false title plead, 
Norsoundhi8quillets^*^8hrilly:hoar^Hheflamen, 
Tliat scolds against the quality of flesh, ^'^ 
And not believes himself: down with the nose, 
Down with it flat; take the bridge quite away 
Of him that, his particular to foresee,^^ 
Smells from^* the general weal: make curl'd- 

pate ruffians bald; I60 

[ And let the miscarr'd braggarts of the war 
Derive some pain from you: plague all; 
That your activity may defeat and quell 
The source of all erection.] — There 's more 

gold: — 
Do you damn others, and let this damn you. 
And ditches grave ^^ you all ! 

P/ir. and Timan. More counsel with more 

money, bounteous Timon. 
Tim. More whore, more mischief first; I 've 

given you earnest. 

f Cotiditiom, characters, dispositions. 

< Clotte, secret. ' Mire, sink in the mud. 

10 QfiilUU, subtleties. n Hoar, make rotten. 

IS The quality of jleeh, that wliich flesh essentially is. 
x.e. sensual 

i« n\» particular to /oretee, to provide for his private 
interest. 

14 From, away from. 1* Grave, entomb. 

43 



ACT IV. Scene 3. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT IV. Soeoe S. 



Alcib. Strike up the drum towards Athens! 
— Farewell, Timon: 
If I thrive well, I '11 visit thee again. 170 

Tim. If I hope well, 1 '11 never see thee more. 
Alcib. I never did thee harm. 
THm. Yes, thou spok'st well of me. 
A Icib, Call'st thou that harm ? 

Tinu Men daily find it Get thee away, and 
take 
Thy beagles with thee. 

Alcih. We but offend him. — Strike! 

[Drum heats. ExeuiU AlcibiadeSj Phrynia^ 

and Timandra. 
Tim. That uatui-e, being sick of man's un- 
kindness. 
Should yet be hungry ! — Common mother, thou, 

[Digging. 
Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast. 
Teems, and feeds all; whose self -same mettle, 
Whereof thy proud child, arrogant man, is 
putf'd, 180 

Engenders the black toad and adder blue. 
The gilded newt and eyeless venom'd worm. 
With all th' abhorred births below crisp^ heaven 
Whereon Hyperion's quickening fire doth shine ; 
Yield him, who all thy human sons doth liate. 
From forth thy plenteous bosom, one \yooY root! 
>[Ensear thy fertile and conceptions womb, 
' Let it no more bring out ingrateful man! ] 
Go great with tigers, dragons, wolves, and bears ; 
Teem with new monsters, whom thy upward 
face 190 

Hath to the marbled mansion all above 
Never pi*esented! — O, a root, — dear^ thanks! — 
Dry up thy marrows, vines, and plough-torn 

leas; 
Whereof ingrateful man, with liquorish 

draughts 
And morsels unctious, greases his pure mind. 
That from it all consideration slips! — 

EfUer ApEMANTua 

More man \ plague, plague! 

A pern. I was directed hither: men report 
Thou doet affect my manners, and dost use them. 

Tim, 'T is, then, because thou dost not keep 

a dog, 200 

Whom I would imitate : consumption catch thee ! 



> Cri^t curled (from the clouds). 

44 



3 Dear, heartfelt 



Apem. This is in thee a nature but infected,*^ 
A poor unmaidy melancholy sprung 
From change of fortune. Why this spade? 

this place? 
This slave- like habit 1 and these looks of care ? 
Thy flatterers yet wear silk, drink wine, lie soft ; 
Hug their diseased perfumes,* and have foigot 
That ever Timon was. Shame not these woods, 
By putting on the cuiming of a carper.* 209 
Be thou a flatterer now, and seek to thrive 
By that which has imdone thee: hinge thy knee. 
And let his very breath, whom thou 'It observe,* 
Blowotf thy cap; praise his most vicious strain,* 
And call it excellent: thou wast told thus; 
Thou gav'st thine ears like tapsters that bade 

welcome 
To knaves and all approachers: 't is most just 
That thou turn rascal; hadst thou wealth agaiu, 
Kascals should have 't. Do not assume my like- 
ness. 
Tim. Were I like thee, I 'd throw away my- 
self. 
Apem. Thou 'st cast away thyself, being like 
thyself; 220 

A madman so long, now a fool. What, think'st 
That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain, 
Will put thy shirt on warm? will these moist 

trees, 
That have outliv'd the eagle, page thy heels, 
And skip where thou poiufst out? will the 

cold brook. 
Candied with ice, caudle thy morning taste, 
To cure thy o'er -night's surfeit? Call the 

creatures, — 
Whose naked natures live in all the spite 
Of wreakful heaven; whose bare unhouseil 

trunks. 
To the conflicting elements expos'd, 2S0 

Answer mere nature, — bid them fliitter thee; 
O, thou shalt find — 

Tim. A fool of thee, dejiart 

Apem. I love thee better now tlian e'er I did. 

Tim. I hate thee worse. 

Apem. Why ? 

Tim. Tliou flatter'st misery. 

Apem. I flatter not; but say thou art a caitiff. 



> Ii\fected, morbid. 

* Per/umeit, i.e. i>erfumed mistresaefl. 

» Carper, a caviller. 

« Observe, pay respect to. ' Strain, impulse. 



ACT IV. tSoene S. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT IV. Scene S. 



Tim. Why dost thou seek nie out? 
Apem. To vex thee. 

Tim. Alwavs a villain's office or a fool'a 
Doet please thyself iu't? 
Apem. Ay. 

Tim. What I a knave too? 

Apem. If thou didst put this sour-cold habit 

OU 239 

To castigate thy pride, 't were well: but thou 
Dost it enforcedly: thou'dst courtier be again, 
Wert thou not beggar. Willing misery 
Outlives incertiiin pomp, is crown'd^ before: 
The one is filling still, never complete; 
ITif other, at high wish : best state, conteutless. 
Hath a distracted and most wretched being, 
Worse tlian the worst, content. 
Thou shouldst desire to die, being miserable. 
Tim. Not by his breath- that is moi*e miser- 
able. 249 
Thou art a slave, whom Fortune's tender arm 
With favour never clasp'd; but bred a dog. 
liadst thou, like us from our firet swath,^ pro- 
ceeded 
The sweet degrees* that this brief world 

affords 
To such as may the passive drugs of it 
Freely command, thou wouklst have plung'd 

thyself 
In general riot; melted down thy youth 
[Indifferent beds of lust;] and never leam'd 
The icy precepts of respect,* but follow'd 
The sugard game before thee. But myself, 
^Vho had the world as mv confectionarv;^ 
The mouths, the tongues, the eyes, and hearts 
of men 2«J1 

At duty, more than I could frame employ- 
ment;'^ 
That numberless upon me stuck, as leaves 
Do on the oak, have with one winter's brush 
Fell* from their boughs, and left me open, 

bare 
For every storm that blows; — I, to bear this. 
That never knew but better, is some burthen: 

> /« erotm'd, arrires at the completion of iU wishes. 

* Brtatk, voice, sentence. 

' Smith, swaddling-clothes. 

* Degrees, steps, stages. 

^ Rupect. deliberation, prudence. 

< Confectionary, storehouse of sweetmeats. 

' Frame emploffment, i.e. frame employment for. 

* FeU. fallen. 



Thy nature did commence in sufferance, time 
Hath made thee hard in 't. Why shouldst 

thou hate men ? 
They never flattered thee: what hast thou 
given ? 270 

If thou wilt curse, — thy father, that poor rag, 
Must be thy subject; who, in spite, put stuff 
To some she-beggar, and compounded thee 
Poor rogue hereditary. Hence, be gone! — 
K thou hadst not been born the worst of 

men. 
Thou hadst been a knave and flatterer. 

Apem. Art thou proud yet? 

Tim. Ay, that I am not thee. 

Apem. I, that I was 

No prodigal. 

Tim. I, that I am one now: 

Were all the wealth I have shut up in thee, 
I'd give thee leave to hang it. Gret thee 
gone. — 280 

That the whole life of Athens were in this I 
Thus would I eat it [Eating a root, 

Apem. Here; I'll mend thy feast 

[Offering him something. 

Tim. First mend my company, take away 
thyself. 

Apem. So I shall mend mine own, by the 
lack of thine. 

Tim. Tis not well mended so, it is but 
botch'd ; 
If not, I would it were. 

Apem. What wouldst thou have to Athens? 

Tim. Thee thither in a whirlwind. If thou 
wilt, 288 

Tell them there I have gold; look, so I have. 

Aj^em. Here is no use for gohl. 

Tim. The best and truest; 

For here it sleeps, and does no hired harm. 

Apem. Where ly'st o' nights, Timon ? 

Tim. Under that 's alx)ve me. 

Where feed'st thou o' days, Apemantus? 

Apem. Where my stomach finds meat; or, 
rather, where I eat it 

Tim. Would poison were o])edient, and 
knew mv mind ! 

^^jotw. Where wouldst thou send it? 

Tim. To sauce tliy dishes. 29i> 

Apem. The middle of humanity thou never 
knewest, but the extremity of both ends: when 
thou wast in thy gilt and thy j)erfume they 

46 



^ 



ACT lY. Scene 8. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT lY. Scene 3. 



mock'd thee for too much curiosity;^ in thy 
mgs thou know'st none, but art despis'd for 
the contrary. There *8 a medlar for thee ; eat it 

Tim. On what I hate I feed not. 

Apein, Dost hate a medlar? 

Tim, Ay, though it look like thee. 

A pern. An th' hadst hated meddlers sooner, 
thou shouldst have loved thyself better now. 
What man didst thou ever know unthrift^ 
that was beloved after his means ?^ 311 

Tim, Who, without those means thou talkest 
of, didst thou ever know belov'd ? 

Apem. Myself. 

Tim. I understand thee; thou hadst some 
means to keep a dog. 

Apem. What things in the world canst thou 
nearest com})are to thy flatterers ? 319 

Tim. Women nearest; but men, men are 
the things themselves. What wouldst thou 
do with the world, Apemantus, if it lay in 
thy power? 

Apem. Give it the beasts, to be rid of the 
men. 

Tim. Wouldst thou have thyself fall in the 
confusion^ of men, and remain a beast with 
the beiists? 

Apem, Ay, Timon. 

Tim. A beiistly ambition, which the gods 
grant thee t' attiiin to! If thou wert the lion, 
the fox would beguile thee: if thou wert the 
lamb, the fox would eat thee: if thou wert the 
fox, the lion would susj^ct thee, when, per- 
ad venture, thou wert accused bv the a.ss: if 
thou wert the Jtas, thv dulness would torment 
thee; and still thou liv'dst but as a breakfast 
to the wolf: if thou wert the wolf, thy greedi- 
ness would atflict thee, and oft thou shouldst 
hazard thy life for thy dinner: wert thou the 
unicorn, pride and wrath would confound thee, 
and nuike thine own self the conquest of thy 
fury : wert thou a bear, thou wouldst be kill'd 
by the hoi-se: wert thou a hoi*se, thou wouldst 
be wiz'd by the leopard: wert thou a leopanl, 
thou wert german' to the lion, and the sjKits 
of thy kindred were jurors on thy life: all thy 



1 CurwKity, nicety, delicacy. 

i Unthrsft, proiligaL 

s After hi* mean*, ie. after they were gone. 

* Confution, ruin, destruction. 

* Otrman, aUn. 

46 



safety were remotion,^ and thy defence absence. 
What beast couldst thou be, that were not 
subject to a beast? and what a beast art thou 
already, that seest not thy loss in transforma- 
tion! 349 

Apem. If thou couldst please me with speak- 
ing to me, thou mightst have hit upon it here: 
the commonwealth of Athens is become a forest 
of beasts. 

Tim, How has the ass broke the wall, that 
thou art out of the city ? 

Apem. Yonder comes a poet and a painter: 
the plague of company light upon thee I I will 
fear to catch it, and give way : when I know 
not what else to do, I '11 see thee again. 359 

Tim. When there is nothing living but thee, 
thou shalt be welcome. I had rather be a 
beggar's dog than A|>emantu8. 

Apem. Tliou art the cap' of all the fools 
alive. 

Tim. Would thou wert clean enough to spit 
ui>on! 

Apem. A plague on thee, thou art too bad 
to curse! 

Tim. All villains that do stand by thee are 
pure. 

Apem. There is no leprosy but what thou 
speak'st. 

Tim. If I name thee. — 368 

I '11 beat thee, but I should infect my hands. 

Apem. I would my tongue could rot them off ! 

Tim. Away, thou issue of a mangy dog ! 
Choler does kill me that thou art alive; 
I swound* to see thee. 

Apem. Would thou wouldst bursti 

Titn. Away, 

Thou tedious rogue I I *m sorry I shall lose 
A stone by thee. [T/iroics a stone at him, 

Apem. Beast! 

Tim. Slave! 

Apem, Toad ! 

Tim. Rogue, n)gue, rogue! 

[A}yemantM retreats Imckicard, as going. 

I'm sick of this false world; and will love 

naught 
But even the mere necessities upon 't 377 

Then, Timon, presently prei>!ire thy grave; 
Lie where the light foam of the sea may beat 



« Remotion, removal. T Cap, top. • Swound, twoon 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT IV. 8( 



Tly grave-atone daily; make thine epitaph, 
That Jeath iu me at others' lives may laugh. 
thoii sweet king- killer, and dear divorce 

[Looiinff on the gold. 
Twiit natural son and aire! thou bright defiler 
Uf Hymen's purest bed ! thou valiant Mars: 
Thou ever young, fresh, lov'd, and delicate 



Whoae blush doth thaw the consecrated snow 
That lies on Diaii's lap! thou visible god, 
That aoldertt close impossibilities. 
And mak'st them kiss! that speak'at with 
every tongue, sm 

To every puiTXiee! O thou touch' of hearts! 
Thmk, thy skvenmn rebels; andby thy virtue 
Set them into confounding odds, tiiat beasts 




Maj have the world iu empire! 
■iptui. [Coming foncard\ Would 'twere 

But uoc till I am dead.— T 'II say tbou 'st gold: 
Thoa wilt be throng'd to shortly. 
n«, Throng'd U>! 

■iptia. Ay. 

Tint. Thy back, I prithee. 
Apem. Live, and love thy miserj'! 

Tint. Long live so, and so die! [Exit Ape- 
MoiifM.] I am quiL' — 
Moe things like men ! — Eat, Timon, and abhor 

> Taidt, lonchitODf . ' lam quit, 1 un rid ol rou. 



£mer Bamlitti. 

FirH Ban. Wliereiihrmid he have this gold? 
It is i«iuie poor fragment, some slender ort' of 
his remniixlei': the mere want of gold, and the 
falling-fnim of liia friends, drove him into this 
melanclKily. Ms 

iScc. Bnii. It is nois'd he hatti a mass of 
treasure. 

Third Bait. Let us make the iuway ujmn 
him: if he enre not for 't, he will supply us 
easily; if he covetously reserve it, how hIuUI 's 
get it? 



ACT IV. Soone 8. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT IV. Scene 3. 



Sec, Ban. True; for he bears it not about 
him, 't is hid. 
First Ban, Is not this he? 4io 

Banditti. Where V 
Sec. Ban. T is his description. 
Third Ban. He; I know him. 
Banditti, Save thee, Timon. 
Tim, Now, thieves? 
Banditti, Soldiers, not thieves. 
Tim, Both too; and women's sons. 

Banditti, We are not thieves, but men that 

much do want. 
Tim. Your greatest w^ant is, you want much 
of meat.^ 
Whv should vou want? Behold, the earth 
hath roots; 420 

Within this mile break forth a hmidred springs; 
Tlie oaks bear mast, the briers scarlet hips; 
The bounteous housewife, nature, on each 

bush 
Lays her full mesa before you. Want ! why 
want? 
Fint Ban. We cannot live on grass, on ber- 
ries, water. 
As beasts and birds and fishes. 

Tim. Nor on the l)ea8ts themselves, the 
birds, and iishes; 
You must eat men. Yet thanks I must you 

con. 
That you are thieves profess'd ; that you work 

not 429 

In holier shapes: for there is boundless theft 
In limited- pi'ofessions. Bascal thieves. 
Here 's gold. Go, suck the subtle blood o' the 

gi-ape, 
Till the high fever seethe your blood to froth, 
And so scH{>e lianging: trust not the physician; 
His antidotes are poison, and he slays 
Moe tlian you rob: take wealth and lives to- 

ijether; 
Do villany, do, since you protest to do % 
Like workmen. I 'II example ycai with thievery : 
Tlie sun's a thief, and with his great attrac- 
tion 
Boljs the vast sea: the moon 's an arrant thief. 
And her {Kile fire she snatches from the sun: 
The sea's a thief, whose liquid surge resolves 



I Meat, food. 

> Limited, under aome restraint, ostensibly honest. 

48 



The moon into salt tears: the earth 's a thief, 
That feeds and breeds by a composture^ stol'n 
From general excrement: each thing's a thief: 
The laws, your curb and whip, in their rough 

power 
Have uncheck'd theft Love not yourselves: 

away, 
Bob one another. There's more gold. Cut 

throats; 
All that you meet are thieves. To Athens go. 
Break open shops; nothing can you steal, 450 
But thieves do lose it: steal no less for this 
I give you; and gold confound you howsoe'erl 
Amen. [Timon retires to Ids cave. 

Third Ban, Has almost charm'd me from 
my profession, by |)ersuading me to it. 

First Ban. 'Tis in the malice of* mankind 
that he thus advises us; not to have us thrive 
in our mystery. 

Sec. Ban. I '11 believe him as an enemy, and 
give over my trade. 4<J0 

First Ban, Let us first see peace in Athens: 
there is no time so miserable but a man may 
be true.* [Exeunt Banditti, 

Enter FLAviua 

Flav. O you gods! 
Is yond despis'd and ruinous man my lord ? 
Full of decay and failing? O monument 
And wonder of good lieeds evilly bestow'd ! 
Wlmt an alteration of honour 
Has desperate want made! 409 

What viler thing upon the earth than friends 
Who can bring noblest minds to basest ends! 
How rarely® does it meet with this time's guise, 
When man was wish'd to love his enemies! 
(ii-ant I may ever love, and rather woo 
Those that would mischief me than those that 

do!— 
Has caught me in his eye: I will present 
My honest grief unto him; and, as my lord. 
Still serve him with my life. 

Timon comes foncard from his cave. 

My dearest master! 
Tim. Away! what art thou? 
Flav. Have you forgot me, sir? 



3 Compoitture, manure. 
3 True, honest. 



4 Malice of, hatred ta 
< Rarely, excellently. 



:., 



ACT IV. Soena 8. 



TIMON OF ATHENa 



ACT IV. Scene 8. 



Tim. Why dost ask that? I have forgot all 
men; 480 

Then, if thou granf st thou 'rt a man, I have 
forgot thee. 

Flav. An honest poor servant of yours. 

Tim, Then I know thee not: 
I ne'er had honest man about me, I; all 
I kept were knaves, to serve in meat to villaina 

/Tar. The gods are witness, 
Ne'er did poor steward wear a truer grief 
For his undone lord than mine eyes for you. 

Tim, What, dost thou weep? — come nearer; 
— then I love thee, 489 

Because thou art a woman, and disclaim'st 
Flinty mankind; whose eyes do never give^ 
But thorough lust and laughter. Pity's sleeping : 
Strange times, that weep with laughing, not 
with weeping ! 

Flav. I beg of you to know me, good my lord, 
T* accept my grief, and, whilst this poor wealth 

lasts, 
To entertain me as your steward still. 

Tim. Had I a steward 
So true, so just, and now so comfortable?^ 
It almost turns my dangerous nature wild.^ 
Let me behold thy face. Surely, this man 
Was bom of woman. — 60i 

Forgive my general and exceptless^ rashness. 
You perpetual sober ^ gods! I do proclaim 
One honest man, — mistake me not, — but one; 
No more, I pray, — and he *8 a steward. — 
How fain would I have hated all mankind ! 
And thou redeem'st thyself: but all, save thee, 
I fell with cursea 

Methinks thou art more honest now than wise; 
For, by oppressing and betraying me, 5io 
Thou mightst have sooner got another service: 
For many so arrive at second masters, 
Upon their first lord's neck. But tell me true, — 
For I must ever doubt, though ne'er so sure, — 
Is not thy kindness subtle, covetous, 

I Give, g^ve way. * ComfcrtaXAe, comforting, 

s WUd, frantic. « ExeeptUtt^ making no exception. 
* PerpUwd tober, perpetnally sober, ever aerene. 

VOL. VII. 



If not a usuring kindness, and, as rich men 

deal gifts, 
Expecting in return twenty for one? 
Flav. No, my most worthy master; in whose 

breast 
Doubt and suspect, alas, are plac'd too late: 
You should have fear'd false times when you 

did feast: 520 

Suspect^ still comes where an estate is least. 
That which I show, heaven knows, is merely 

love, 
Duty and zeal to your unmatched mind. 
Care of your food and living; and, believe it, 
My most honour'd lord, 
For any benefit that points to me, 
Either in hope or present, I 'd exchange 
For this one wish, — that you had power and 

wealth 
To requite me, by making rich yourself. 
Tim. Look thee, 'tis so! — ^Thou singly honest 

man, 580 

Here, take: — the gods, out of my misery. 
Have sent thee treasure. Go, live rich and 

happy, 
But thus conditioned: — thou shalt build from^ 

men; 
Hate all, curse all; show charity to none; 
But let the famish'd flesh slide from the bone, 
Ere thou relieve the beggar: give to dogs 
What thou deny^st to men; let prisons swallow 

'em, 
Debts wither 'em to nothing: be men like 

blasted woods, 538 

And may diseases lick up their false bloods! 
And so, farewell, and thrive. 

Flav. O, let me stay, 

And comfort you, my master. 

Tim. If thou hat'st curses, 

Stay not; fly, whilst thou 'rt blest and free: 
Ne'er see thou man, and let me ne'er see thee. 

[Ejdt Flavius. Timon retires to his cave. 



* Sutpect, suspicion. 
7 From, away ttom. 

49 



170 



TIUON OF ATHENa 



Scene I. The voodt. Before Timon'i cave. 

Eater Poet and Painter; Tiuon watching them 
from hit oave. 

Pain. Aa I took note of the place, it cannot 
be fat where he abides. 

Poet. What's to be thought of him? does 
the rumour hold for true, that he 'a so full of 
gold? 

Pain. Certain: Alcibiadeareportait; Phtynia 
and Timandia had gold of him: he likewise 
enrich'd poor straggling soldiers with great 
quantity: 'tie said he gave unto his Bteward 
a mighty sura. 

Poet. Then this breaking of his has been 
but a try' for his friends. ii 

Pain. Nothing else : jou shall see him a palm 
in Athene again, and flourish with the high- 
est. Therefore 't is not amiss we tender our 
loves to him, in this suppoe'd distreBa of his: 
it will show honestly in usj and is very likely 
to load our purposes witii what they travail 
for, if it be a just and true report that goes of 
his having. 

Poet. What have you now to present unto 
faimi 

Pain. Nothing at this time but my visita- 
tion : only I will promise him an excellent 

Poel. I must serve him so too, — tell him of 
an intent that's coming toward him. 

Pain, Good as the best Promising is the 
very air o' the time; it opens the eyes of ex- 
pectation: performance la ever the didler for 
bis act; and, but in the plainer and simpler 
kind of people, the deed of saying* is quite out 
of use. To promise is most courtly and fashion- 
able: perfomiance is a kind of will or teata- 
ment which argues a great sickness in bis 
judgment that makes it. so 

[Timon comet from hit oave, behind. 

Tim. [J«uJe]£xcellentworkmantthou canst 
not paint a man so bad as is thyself. 

Poet. I am thinking what I ^all say I have 



provided for him: it must be a personating' 
of himself; a satire against the softaess of 
prosperity, with a discovery* of the infinite 
flatteries tliat follow youth and opulent?. 

Titn. [Atide] Uost thou needs stand for a 
villain in thine own workl wilt thou whip 




thine own faults in other men ! Do so, I have 
gold for thee. 41 

Poet. Nay, let's seek him: 
Then do we sin against our own estate. 
When we may profit meet, and come too late. 

Pain. True; 
When the day serves, before black-comer'd 

night, 
Find whatthou want'st l^free and offer'd light 
Come. 



> Ptnntaling. TapnaBHtatloiL 



ACT ▼. Seene 1. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT V. Soene 1. 



Tim. [Ande] I '11 meet you at the turn. — 
What a god 's gold, 50 

That he is worshipped in a baser temple 
Than where swine feed! 
Tis thou tliat rigg'st the bark and plough'st 

the foam; 
Settlest admired reverence in a slave: 
To thee be worship! and thy saints for aye 
Be crown'd with plagues, that thee alone obey! 
—Fit I meet them. [Comes forward. 

Poet, Hail, worthy Timon! 
Pain. Our late noble master! 

Tim, Have I once liv'd to see two honest 

men? 
Poet, Sir, so 

Having often of your open bounty tasted. 
Hearing you were retired, your friends f alPn off, 
Whoee thankless natures — O abhorred 

spirits! — 
Not all the whips of heaven are large enough — 
What! to you, 

^oee star-like nobleness gave life and influ- 
ence 
To their whole being ! — I 'm rapt, and cannot 

cover 
"^e monstrous bulk of this ingratitude 
With any size of words. 
Tim, Let it go naked, men may see 't the 
hetter: 70 

You that are honesty by being what you are, 
Hake them best seen and known. 

Paw. He and myself 

Ha?e travail'd in the great shower of your 

gifts, 
-^d sweetly felt it 
Tim, Ay, you *re honest men. 

Pain, We 're hither come to offer you our 

service. 
Titn. Most honest men! Why, how shall I 
requite you? 
Om you eat roots, and drink cold water? no. 
Both, What we can do, we '11 do, to do you 

service. 
Tim, Ye 're honest men: ye've heard that 
I have gold; 
I'm sore you have: speak truth; ye 're honest 
men. so 

Pain, So it is said, my noble lord : but there- 
fore 
Game not my friend nor L 



Tvn, Good honest men! — Thou draw'st a 
counterfeit^ 
Best in all Athens: thou'rt, indeed, the best; 
Thou counterfeit'st most lively. 

Pain, So, so, my lord. 

Tim, E'en so, sir, as I say. — And, for thy 
fiction. 
Why, thy verse swells with stuff so fine and 

smooth. 
That thou art even natural in thine art — 
But, for all this, my honest-natur'd friends, 
I must needs say you have a little fault: 90 
Marry, 't is not monstrous in you ; neither wish I 
You take much pains to mend. 

Both. Beseech your honour 

To make it known to us. 

Tim, You '11 take it ilL 

BotL Most thankfully, my lord. 
Tim, Will you, indeed? 

Both, Doubt it not, worthy lord. 
Ti7n, There 's ne'er a one of you but trusts 
a knave. 
That mightily deceives you. 

Both, Do we, my lord? 

Tim. Ay, and you heai* him cog,* see him 

dissemble, 

Know his gross patchery,^ love him, feed him. 

Keep in your bosom: yet remain assur'd lOO 

That he's a made-up^ villain. 

Fain. I know none such, mv loni. 
Poet. Nor I. 

Tim. Look you, I love you well; I '11 give 
you gold. 
Rid me these vilkins from your companies: 
Hang them or stab them, drown them in a 

draught,* 
Confound them by some course, and come tome, 
I '11 give you gold enough. 

Both. Name them, my lord, let's know 

them. 
Tim, You that way, and you this, — but two 
in company: 
Each man apart, all single and alone, iio 

Yet an arch- villain keeps him company. 
[To the Painter] If, where thou art, two vil- 
lains shall not he, 

1 Counterfeit^ the word meant a portrait as well as a 
pretence. * Cofft cheat 

* Patehery, clumsy hypocrisy. 
4 Made-upt complete, perfect • Jhaught, Jakes. 

51 



ACT V. Scene 1. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT V. Soena 1. 



Come not near him. — [To the Poet] If thou 

wouldst not reside 
But where one vilhiin is, then him abandon. — 
Hence, pack! there's gold, — ^you came for gold, 

ye slaves: 
You have work for me, there's payment: 

hence! — 
[To the Poet] You are an alchemist, make gold 

of that: — 
Out, rascal dogs! 
[Beats them out, and then retires to his cave. 

Enter Flavius and two Senators. 

Flav. It is in vain that you would speak 

with Timon; 
For he is set 80 only to himself, 120 

That nothing but himself, which looks like 

man, 
Is friendly with him. 

First Sen. Bring us to his cave: 

It is our part and promise to th' Athenians 
To speak with Timon. 

Sec. Sen. At all times alike 

Men are not still the same: 'twas time and 

griefs 
That fram'd him thus: time, with his fairer 

hand. 
Offering the fortunes of his former days, 
The former man may make him. Bring us to 

him. 
And chance it as it may. 

Flav. Here is his cave.— 

Peace and content be here! Lord Timon! 

Timon ! iso 

Look out, and speak to friends: th' Athenians, 
By two of their most reverend senate, greet 

thee: 
Speak to them, noble Timon. 

Timon comes from his cave. 

Tim. Thou sun, that comfort'st, bum! — 
Speak, and be hang'd: 
For each true word, a blister! and each false 
Be as a cantherizing^ to the root 0' the tongue, 
Consuming it with speaking ! 
First Sen. Worthy Timon, — 

Tim. Of none but such as you, and you of 
Timon. 



1 CarUherizing, cauteiitiDg: 
52 



First Sen. The senators of Athens greet thee, 

Timon. 
Tiin. I thank them; and would send them 

back the plague, 140 

Could I but catch it for them. 

First Sen. O, forget 

What we are sorry for ourselves in thee. 
The senators with one consent of love 
Entreat thee back to Athens; who have 

thought 
On special dignities, which vacant lie 
For thy best use and wearing. 

Sec. Sen. They confess 

Towards thee forgetfulness too general, gross: 
Which now the public body, — which doth 

seldom 
Play the recanter, — feeling in itself 14» 

A lack of Timon's aid, hath sense withal 
Of it own fall,* restraining' aid to Timon; 
And send forth us, to make their sorrowed 

render,* 
Together with a recompense more fruitful 
Than their offence can weigh down by the 

dram; 
Ay, even such heaps and sums of love and 

wealth 
As shall to thee blot out what wrongs were 

theirs. 
And write in thee the figures of their love, 
Ever to read them thine. 

Tim. You witch me in it; 

Surprise me to the very brink of tears: 159 
Lend me a fool's heart and a woman's eyes, 
And I '11 beweep these comforts, worthy sena- 
tors. 
First Sen, Therefore, so please thee to return 

with us, 
And of our Athens — ^thine and ours — to take 
The captainship, thou shalt be met with thanks, 
Allow'd* with absolute power, and thy good 

name 
Live with authority: — so soon we shall drive 

back 
Of Alcibiades th' approaches wild; 
Who, like a boar too savage, doth root up 
His country's peace. 



^ It oum/allf iU own fault 

* Rettraining, withholding. 

« Render, sUtement, confeuion. 

• AlUno'dt trusted, inretted. 



ACT V. Scene 1. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT V. Scene 2. 



Sec Sen. And shakes his threatening 

sword 169 

Against the walls of Athens. 
First Sen, Therefore, Timon, — 

Tim, Well, sir, I will; therefore, I will, sir; 
thus: — 
If Alcibiades kill my countrymen, 
Let Alcibiades know this of Timon, 
That Timon cares not But if he sack fair 

Athens, 
And take our goodly aged men by the beards. 
Giving our holy virgins to the stain 
Of contumelious, beastly, mad-brain'd war, 
Then let him know, — and tell him Timon 

speaks it. 
In pity of our aged and our youth, 179 

I cannot choose but tell him that I care not, 
And let him take 't at worst; for their knives 

care not, 
While you have throats to answer: for myself. 
There 's not a whittle^ in th' unruly camp 
But I do prize it at my love,* before 
The reverend'st throat in Athens. So I leave 

you 
To the protection of the prosperous^ gods. 
As thieves to keepers. 
Hav, Stay not, all 's in vain. 

Tim, Why, I was writing of my epitaph; 
It will be seen to-morrow: my long sickness 
Of health and living now begins to mend. 
And nothing brings me all things. Go, live 
still; 191 

Be Alcibiades your plague, you his. 
And last so long enough! 
First Sen. We speak in vain. 

Tim, But yet I love my country; and am not 
One that rejoices in the common wrack,^ 
As common bruit ^ doth put it 
First Sen. That 's well spoke. 

Tim, Commend me to my loving country- 
men, — 
First Sen. These words become your lips as 

they pass thorough them. 
Sec. Sen. And enter in our ears like great 
triiimphers 199 

In their applauding gates. 

1 WkiUU, a iniAll clasp-knife. 
*Atmff late, %.€. worth my lore. 

* FrotperouMt propitioiu, favoonble. 

* Wraek, roio. • Bruit, nimonr. 



Tim, Commend me to them; 

And tell them that, to ease them of their griefs, 
Their fears of hostile strokes, their ach5s, losses. 
Their pangs of love, with other incident throes 
That nature's fnigile vessel doth sustain 
In life's uncertain voyage, I will some kindness 

do them, — 
I'll teach them to prevent wild Alcibiades* 
wrath. 
First Sen, I like this well: he will return 

again. 
Tim. 1 have a tree, which grows here in 
my close. 
That mine own use invites me to cut down. 
And shortly must I fell it: tell my friends. 
Tell Athens, in the sequence of degree, 211 
From high to low throughout, that whoso please 
To stop affliction, let him take his haste. 
Come hither, ere my tree hath felt the axe. 
And hang himself: — I prayyou,domy greeting. 
Flav. Trouble him no further; thus you 

still shall find him. 
Tim. Come not to me again: but say to 
Athens, 
Timon hath made his everlasting mansion 
Upon the beached verge of the salt flood; 
Who once a day with his embossed froth 2S0 
The turbulent surge shall cover: thither come. 
And let my grave-stone be your oracle. — 
Lips, let sour words go by, and language end: 
What is amiss, plague and infection mend ! 
Graves only be men's works, and death their 

gain! 
Sun, hide thy beams! Timon hath done his 
reign. [Retires to his cave. 

First Sen, His discontents are unremovably 
Coupled to nature. 

Sec. Sen. Our hope in him is dead: let us 
return, 229 

And strain what other means is left unto us 
In our dear peril 
First Sen. It requires swift foot 

[Exeunt, 

Scene IL Before the walls of Athem, 

Enter two Se^iators and a Messenger, 

First Sen, Thou'st painfully discovered: are 
his files 
As full as thy report? 

53 



ACT V, a. 



TIMON OF ATHENa 



Meu. I 've apoke the leaet; 

BtsideH, his expedition promiaeB 
Present approach. 

Sec. Sen. We atand much haz.ird, if the}' 
bring not Tiinon. 

Mat. I met a courier, one mine ancient 




Whom, though in general jmrt' we were op- 
Yet our old love made ii particular force,* 
And made lu upeak like friends: — this nmn 

wns riding 
From Alcibiadea to Timon's cavi^, lo 

With letters of entreaty, which im[x>rted 
His fellowship i' the cause against your city. 
In part for hia sake mov'd. 

ftnl Sea. Here come our brothers. 



Enitr the Senator* from TiiiON. 

Third Sea. No talk of Timon, nothing of 
him eipect. — 
The enemies' drum is heard, and fearful scour- 
ing 
Dothcboke the air with dust: in, and prepare: 
Ours ia the fall, I fear; our foes the suare. 

\ExmrU. 

ScKHB IIL The woodt. Timon'$ cave, and 
a rude tomb teen. 

Eater a Soldier, teeking Tihon. 
Sold. By all description this should be the 

Who 's here? speak, hoi — No answer? — What 

isthis? 
\Read»\ "Timon u dead, nho hath Qutstretcb'd hii 

Some beast road thisi there di>es not livs a man." 
Dead, sure; and this hia gt&ve. — What's on 

thia tomb 
I cannot read ; the character I '11 take with wax : 
Our capt^n hath in every figure skill, 
An ag'd interpreter, though young in days: 
Before proud Athens he 's set down by this, 
Whose fall the mark of hia ambition is. 

[ExiL 

ScEHS IV. Before the waltt o/Athent. 

Trvmpet$ tound. Enter Alcibiadeb wifA hit 

poaert. 

AUib, Sound to this coward and luciTiona 

town 

Our t«rrible approach. [A parley tounded. 

Enter Senatort on the walit. 
Till now you have gone on, and fill'd the time 
With all licentious measure, making your wills 
The scope* of justice ; till now, myself,and auch 
As slept within the shadow of your power. 
Have wander'd with our tra^vera'd* arms, and 

hreath'd 
Our suffemnce vainly: now the time is flush,* 
Whencrouchingmarrow, in the bearer strong, 

■ Sivpt, bounds IlntU. 

• rnwn'it, cnxMd, toldcd. 

■ FlvA, In tull Ttgonr. 



ACT V. Boene 4. 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT V. Scene 4. 



Cries, of itself, "No more:" now breathless 

wrong 10 

Shall sit and pant in your great chairs of 

ease; 
And pursy insolence shall break lus wind 
With fear and horrid flight. 

Firtt Sen, Noble and young, 

When thy first griefs* were but a mere conceit. 
Ere thou hadst power, or we had cause of 

fear, 
We sent to thee; to give thy rages balm, 
To wipe out our ingratitude with loves 
Above their quantity. 

<S'ec. Sen, So did we woo 

Transformed Timon to our city's love 19 

By humble message and by promised means: 
We were not all unkind, nor all deserve 
The common stroke of war. 

FirU Sen. These walls of ours 

Were not erected by their hands from whom 
You have received your griefs; nor are they 

such 
That these great towers, trophies, and schools 

should fall 
for private faults in them. 

Sec Sen. Nor are they living 

^0 were the motives* that you first went 

out; 
Shame that they wanted cunning,' in excess 
Hath broke their hearts. March, noble lord, 
hito our city with thy banners spread: so 
By decimation, and a tithed death, — 
If thy revenges hunger for that food, 
^ndeh nature loathes, — take thou the destin'd 

tenth; 
^ by the hazard of the spotted die 
I^t die the spotted. 

Fint Sen, All have not offended; 

For those that were, it is not square^ to take 
On those that are, revenges: crimes, like lands. 
Are not inherited. Then, dear countryman. 
Bring in thy ranks, but leave without thy 

rage: 
Spare thy Athenian cradle, and those kin^ 40 
Which, in the bluster of thy wrath, must 

fall 
With those that have offended: like a shepherd, 

1 Orit/$^ grierancM. * Motivet, authon, movers. 

* Oaming, forethongbt. * Square^ Joit. 

• Km, aJda, reUted (to yoa). 



Approach the fold, and cull th' infected forth, 
But kill not all together. 

Sec. Sen. What thou wilt. 

Thou rather shalt enforce it with thy smile 
Than hew to't with thy sword. 

First Sen. Set but thy foot 

Against our rampir'd^ gates, and they shall 

ope; 
So thou wilt send thy gentle heart before. 
To say thou It enter friendly. 

Sec. Sen. Throw thy glove, 

Or any token of thine honour else, 60 

That thou wilt use the wars as thy redress. 
And not as our confusion, all thy powers 
Shall make their harbour in our town, till we 
Have seal'd thy full desire. 

Alcib. Then there 's my glove; 

Descend, and open your imcharged ports :^ 
Those enemies of Timon's, and mine own, 
Whom you yourselves shall set out for re- 
proof, 
Fall, and no more: and — to atone® your fears 
With my more noble meaning — not a man 
Shall pass his quarter,^ or offend the stream 
Of regular justice in your city's bounds, 61 
But shall be rendered to your public laws 
At heaviest answer. 

Senators. T is most nobly spoken. 

Alcib. Descend, and keep your words. 
[The Senators descendy and open the gates. 

Enter Soldier. 

Sold. My noble general, Timon is dead; 

Entombed upon the very hem o' the sea; 

And on his grave-stone this insculpture, 
which 

With wax I brought away, whose soft impres- 
sion 

I 

Interprets for my poor ignorance. 

Alcib. [Reads the epitaph] "Here lies a 

wretched corse, of wretched soul bereft: 70 

Seek not my name: a plague consume you wicked 

caitiffs left! 
Here lie I, Timon; who, alive, all living men did hate: 
Pass by, and curse thy fill; but pass, and stay not 

here thy gait." 



* Rampir^d, barricaded. 

7 Uncharged ports, unaaiailed gates. 
> Atcne, reconcile. 

• Past his quarter, leave his quarters. 

55 



TIMON OF ATHENS. 



These well express in thee thy latter spirita: 
Though thou abhoir'dst in us our huuan griefs, 
Scom'dst our brains' flow,' and those our drop- 

leta which 
From niggard nature fall, ;et rich conceit 
Tau^t thee to tnakevast Neptune weep foraye 
On thy low grave, on faults forgiven. Dead 

1 Our braint' JIbic, tern. 



Is noble Timon: of whoee memory w 

Hereafter more. — Bring me into your city, 
And I will use the olive with my aword : 
Make war breed peace; maJie peace stint -war; 

make each 
Prescribe to other, as each other's leech. — 
[Let our drums strike.] [SxeuiU. 

' Stint, cbsck. Mop. 





NOTES TO TIMON OF ATHENS. 



DRAMATIS PERSOX.E. 

1 Taos. At ■ hlitorial penonige IllUe or nothing 
ktuonolTUiHUibejoDdwhilPluUrchUUiiu. Cloufh 
bi I DDla lo bit tniuUtlon of PluUrch uri: " Two pu- 
■Na in eiUnt In tbs Comed[H ol Arlitophanei Id which 
TImi b meutionnl— tbe IHetli of the BIrdg. Id which 
FnaeUieu imIi blmicU a Tlmon, a toti ol god-mltan- 
ttnft imoug ths dsltlo, ud Udh gOS-SSO of the lyalt 
tnta. vhen hli loUtuT. mui-hiUng llTe li brleflr ds- 
(Met Flilo the comic pMtwuanoEhercoatcmponiT. 
Sttluvu Fhrrnlciu, ■ tngaitot of whom, detcrlblng 
Vam't hiUti, ii pnacrred bj > gnnunulWD. Bnt It 
•mm to ban tmn In Uw neit centnrj bj Antlpbuei, 
oMoI (be two gnit Isulenot the Hcond or Middle Attic 
CmmiIj . . . that TlmoD wm BlenCed to be tbe Ideal of 



nliu, c SSI 

i. TraiNDHA, mentloaed by Plutinh In hla life oC 
AJclbladee u a coDcubloe ot hla. She waa living with bim 
at the time ol hli awuaiDitlos, and "went and took hla 
bod;, which ahe wrapped up Id the beat linen ihe had, 
and burled him aa hononrably u ihe could poHlble, with 
anch tblngi at abe had and could get togetber" (Xortb). 

ACT I. Sc-ESE I. 





A Msit iaaiinparablr man; bheitu'd, u il teen, 






TiKiiL" Itlaaald tbatbl>fathe^'inaInewaa£checra■ 


To brtatlie a hone la to eierclM Um^ to here the mean- 


Hda ol the demoa of C01]ittna. and that he died In con- 


ing la probablj, aa Jobnaon •uggoiled. Innred by prac- 


acqaence of refuaing to allow a inigeon to come to him 


tice. It may, boweyer, merely be bartng enough breath 


and let a broken limb. 


tor. Compare Love'a Labour'! LoaLr. 2 <»».aei): 




A mvi B IrMltJ. ihit uiuln he .«ild tthi ft 
Fnmun.iUli.Hthi. 


Btjoai the fact that he waa banlahed tnim Atbena and 




7. Une li: Ht poiaei.— Eiceedi all bonnda. Compare 


heplaiatntUadnuuL 


Merry wives, 1. i. aiO; "the women hare » cried and 




ahrtok-d at It [the bear], that It paH'il. ' 








B. Unea 11.22: 




Oiirpwm i» m o gum. ^hich wzh 


m WW much Ilka of bit natar* and condlUoiit, and alu 


Fnm bA«b« '1 it nouriM'J. 



ACT I. Soene 1. 



NOTES TO TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT L Scene 1. 



The Folio has "a Gowne, which Tiei." Oum ii doe to 
Pope, who printed **a gam which iaiiiei;" ooze$ to John- 
son. 

9. Linei24,26: 

and, like the current, JUee 

Each bound it eha/ee. 

The Folio has ckatet. Chafee is Theobald's collection. 
Schmidt^ compaiiDg Jallus Ciesar, L 2. 101: 

Tbe tronbled Tiber ekalH£ with her shores, 
suggests '*each bound it chafes with." Henley well ob- 
serves that the Jumble of images in this speech are put 
into the mouth of the Poetaster to give us a taste of his 
talents. 

10. Lines SO, 81: 

how this ffrace 

Speakt his oum standing ! 

The commentators have been much exercised by this 
passage, and are not very happy in their explanations; 
Steevens, for iostance, paraphrasing: "how the graceful 
attitude of this figure proclaims that it stands firm on its 
own centre, or gives evidence in favour of its own flxure." 
The plain meaning seems to be. How lifeUke is this grace- 
ful attitude, how truly it represents its original I The pic- 
ture was surely a portrait of Timon. It is true that below, 
line 19tf. Apemantus, when asked his opinion of the pic- 
ture, says he Ukes it best for the innocence, but by this 
he may merely mean its simplicity, naiveU. 

11. lines 33, 34: 

to the dumbness qf the gesture 

One might interpret. 

Such expressive gestures, though necessarily dumb^ seem 

to speak.— One might easily supply the appropriate wordi. 

Boswell compares Cymbeline, ii. 4. 82, 88: 

never saw I figures 
So likely to report themsehres. 

Bolfe thinks there is an allusion to the interpreter in the 
puppet-shows of the time, whose office it waa to explain 
the action. 

12. Lines 87, 88: 

arti//eial strife 

Lives in these touches, livelier than l\fe. 

Malone apUy compares Venus and Adonis, 289-292 : 

Look, when a painter would surpass the Bfo 
Id linmlng out a well-proportioa'd steed. 
His art with nature's workmanship at strife. 
As if the dead the IlTinf should exceed. 

13. Line 40: The senators of Athens:— happy man!— So 
Theobald. The Folio has **happu men," "which," says 
Dyce, "the whole context proclaims to be wrong." 

14. Line 41: Look, nwe.'^Moe or mo (a distinct word 
from more, which comes from the Anglo-Saxon mdra, 
greater in sizeX is from the Anglo-Saxon md, nrare in 
number, and occurs very frequently in the Folia By 
modem editors, and sometimes in the later Folios, it is 
printed more. 

1& Lines 46. 47: 

but moves itsef/ 
In a wide sea of wax. 

The old explanation of this passage, that it alludes to the 

58 



ancient practice of writing with a style on tablets covered 
with wax, is probably the correct one. The expression is 
no doubt singular; but the studied affectation of the Poet's 
language must be remembered. Bolfe prefers Ingleby'a 
suggestion that it might be an affected and pedantic mode 
of indicating a sea that widens (waxes) with the ilood. 

la Lines 00-02: 

even he drops down 

The knee before hirn^ and returns in peace 

Most rich in Timon's nod. 

Steevens thought that Shakespeare either meant to put 
a falsehood into the mouth of his Poet, or had not yet 
thoroughly planned the character of Apemantus; but 
Bitson remarks rightly that the Poet, seeing that Ape- 
mantus paid frequent visits to Timon, naturally con- 
cluded that he was equally courteous with his other 
guests, and this is what we are given to understand by 
the cautious rejoinder of the Painter, who merely ob- 
serves, " I saw them speak together." 

17. Lines 78-77: 

This throne, this Fortune, and this hiU, methinks, . . . 

would be well express'd 

In our CONDITION. 

Warburton explained condition here to mean art, anil 
evidently understood the Painter to say that this scene 
which the Poet has Just described would be a good sub- 
ject for a picture, and so Staunton; but it is questionable 
whether the word oonOtion will bear this interpretation, 
and Schmidt explains, "would find a striking parallel in 
our stata" That is, this favouritism of Fortune mi^t 
be well exemplified among the professors of literature 
and art like ourselves. 

1& Line 81: Rain saeriftcial whisperings in his ear.— 
Whisperings made as if to a god to whom they were offer- 
ing sacrifice— not, as Warburton elaborately fancied, whis- 
perings which sacrificed the reputation of the great man'a 
enemies I 

19. Line 87: Even on their knees and HANDS, let him 
SLIP down.— F. 1 has hand; hands is the reading of F. 2. 
sup is Bowe's correction for sit of the Folios. 

20. Lines 98, 90: 

whi^ failing. 

Periods his contort 
So F. 1. F. 2 has "which failing to him." 

21. Line 101: My friend when he XUST nbkd hm.— So- 
F. 1 (must needs). F. 8 has most needs. 

22. Line 100: All happiness to ycmrAonour/— According 
to Steevens this was the conunon address to a lord fa 
Shakespeare's time, being used indifferently with your 
lordship. 

28. Lines 128, 129: 

Tim. The man is honest. 

Old Ath. Ther^ore he will be, Timon. 

Therefore he will continue to be honest, and his honesty 

will be sufficient reward in itself without my daui^ter to 

boot 

24. Line 184: What lbyitt '8 in youtA.— Spelt Uwitie^ 
in F. 1 and F. 2; levUy '« in F. 8 and F. 4. 



ACT I. Bone L 



NOTES TO TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT I. Scene 2. 



2S. lines 149-151: 

never may 

That etate or fortune fall into my hoping. 

Which it not oto'd to youl 

Let me nerer henceforth consider anything that I poasesi, 
bat u meed or due to yon; held for your dispoial (John- 
Km). Malone compares Macbeth, L 6. 25-28: 

Your servants ever 
Have theirs, themselves, and what is theirs, in compt. 
To make their audit at your highness' pleasure, 
StiD to return your own. 

tt. Lines 164. 165: 

Sir, your jewel 

Hath tuffefd under praue. 

Jew. What, my lord! ditpraisef 

The Jeweller, as Rolfe points out, understands Timon to 
tt7 underpraise, which Steevens printed in his ed. of 1773. 

27. Line 199: The beet, for the innocence.— See note 10 on 
line SO of this scene. 

tti Lines 216, 217: Xot so toell ae plain-dealing, which 
viU not COST a man a doiL— So F.Z. F. 1 and 2 have eott. 
Steerens remariu that the allusion is to the proverb: 
"Pltin^lealingis a Jewel, but they that use it die beggars." 

S. Line 241: That I had no angry vrit to be a lord.— 
Tbii expression has greatly perplexed the commentators. 
P^hsps after all it merely means. That I had no angry 
^t to be a lord with,— in order to be a true lord, im- 
plying a sneer at lords as noted for a hasty petulant 
tcaper, which a philosopher would be sure to lack even 
tf he were a lord. Malone suggests that the passage 
ahoQld be printed thus: " That I had no angry wit— To 
be 1 lord!" ie. that I had no wit in my anger, but was 
ihraid enough to wish myself a lord. He then exclaims 
with indignation— To be a lord I Mr. B. O. Klnnear 
(Ooces Shakespearianae, p. S42X comparing Love's La- 
boar'iLost,L 2.95: 

Armada. He sorely affected her for her wit. 
Moth. It was so sir; for she bad a K^een wit: 

vmild read "That I had 80 green a wit to be a lord." The 
OloU marin the line ai corrupt 

n. Line 254: Titt i have thantd you: when dinner't 
^^.-F. Lhas ** when dinners done." F. 2 has **an<l when 
d^Boers done." In this play the Folio has many metri- 
etOy defecUve lines, but I have thought it better to leave 
t^ as they stand, rather than piece them oat from the 
^T Folios or editorial conjectures. 

n. Lines 256, 257: 

So, to, therein 

ACHts contract and starve your tupple jointt ! 

1U« is Capell's reading (who punctuates, "lo, so; 
tlMre!"-X F. 1 has printed as prose, "So, so; their 
Aches contract, and sterue," &,c. The substantive ache 
it always so spelt in the Folio, and its pronunciation is 
evident from the pun in Much Ado, UL 4. 53-65: 

Btat. By my troth, I am ezceeding ill:— heighJio ! 
Uarg. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband? 
Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H. 

On the other hand the verb (spelt ake in iii. 5. 96), rhymes 
vith hrake ( Venos and Adonis, 875) and with take (Comedy 
<f Errors, iiL 1.68). 



32. Line 263 : Ere we depart, we 'U thare a bounteout 

time.—Ete we part. Compare Cymbeline, i. 1. 106-108: 

Should we be takii^r leave 
As loag a term as yet we have to live, 
The loathncss to eUpart would grow. 

33. Lhie 269: The more aeeurted thou, that ttiU omitt'tt 
if.— So Hanmer. F. 1 has "The most accursed." 

34. Lhie 293: First Lord.— Omitted in F. L 

ACT I. Scene 2. 

35. Line 22: Ho, ho, cof\fets'd it! hang'd it, have you 
not;— Malone points out that this is an allusion to a 
common proverb of Shakespeare's time : "Confess and be 
hanged." 

8& Line 28: btU yond man it ever angry.— ^ Kowe. 
The Folios have "verie angrie." 

37. Line 35: / myself woxild have no power; prithee, let 
my meat make thee tilent.—I m^elf would have no power 
to make thee silent, but I wish thou wouldst let my meat 
make thee silent ! Timon, like a polite landlord, disclaims 
all power over the meanest or most troublesome of his 
guests (Tyrwhitt). 

38. Line 38: / scorn thy meat; 't would choke me, for 
1 should ne'er flatter tA^e. — Capell says that this "is 
founded upon a trite vulgar saying— that grudg'd meat 
choalcs the person that eats of it" Timon's meat, ac- 
cording to Apemantus, is only given willingly to those who 
could flatter in return for it 

39. Line 40: what a number <^ men EAT Tiinon.— So 
Rowe. F. 1 has eats. 

40. Line 41: It grieves me to see so many dip their meat 
in one man's blood; and all the madness is, he cheers them 
up too.— The allusion is to a pack of hounds trained to pur- 
suit by being gratlfled with the blood of an animal which 
they kill, and the wonder is that the animal on which 
they are feeding cheers them to the chase (Johnson). 

41. Line 46: Methinkt they should invUe them without 
knivet.—li wai the custom in our author's time for every 
guest to bring his own knife, which he occasionally 
whetted on a stone that hung behind the door (Bitson). 

42. Line 73: Much good DICH thy good heart, Apeman- 
tut!— In The Merry Wives of Windsor, L 1. 82, 83, we 
find, '* Master Page, I am glad to see you: much good 
do it your good heart I" and the word dich here has gen- 
erally been supposed to be a corruption of do it. There 
is, however, an Anglo-Saxon verb dyttan, later form dutten, 
signifying to shut up, close— of which dich may be a sur- 
vival The meaning will then be ' ' much good close or fill 
thy heart" The following provincialisms instanced by Sir 
Philip Perring (Hard Knots in Shakespeare, ed. 1886, p. 
840), perhaps contain the same word:— "his face is diched 
(covered) with dirt;" and "the thighs of the bees are 
dithed (laden) with honey." 

43. Line 89: we thould think ourtelvet for ever perfect; 
ie. completely happy. Compare Macbeth, iii. 4. 21, 22: 

Then comes my fit again : I had else been ptrfect; 
Whole as the marble, founded as.the rock. 

59 



ACT I. Scene 2. 



NOTES TO TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT I. Eksene 2. 



41 Line 94: why have you that charitable title from 
ihousandg, did not you chiefly belong to my heart} — Why 
are you distinguished from thousands by that title of en- 
dearment; was there not a particular connection and in- 
tercourse of tenderness between you and me? (Johnson). 
For this use of /rom= from among, compare All's Well, 
iL 1. 130, 131: 

Humbly entreatin|;/fVM your royal thoughts 

A modest one, to bear me back again. 

46. line 98: and thut far I confirm you.— Schmidt in- 
terprets : " to that extent I am past doubt concerning 
you; my belief in you goes the length of what I told my- 
self about you." 

46. Line 104: that KEEPS their tounds.—¥. 1 keepet; 
F. 2 keep. 

47. Line 111 : joy, e'en made away ere 't can be bom! 
—The joy is made away, because it is turned to tear»— 
the emblem of grief. Joy is Rowe's correction. The Folios 
have ioyes. 

48. Line 113: Hiou weepett to make them drink, Timon, 
—A sneer: thou weepest at making them drink. An in- 
stance of the common gerundive use of the infinitive. 
Compare Merchant of Venice, i. 1. 126, 127: 

Nor do I now make moan to be abridg'd 

From such a noble rate ; (i.e. at being abridged). 

49. Lines 116. IIC: 

Joy had the like conception in our eyee, 
Andf at that inetarit, like a babe sprung up. 
These lines, as Rolfe says, besides carrying on Timon's 
metaphor, seem to glance at the idea of " looking babies 
in the eyes," i.e. seeing the miniature reflection of your- 
■self in another person's eyes. 

60. Lines 131-133: 

To gratulate thy plenteous bosom: th' ear 
Taste f touch and smell, pleas'd/rom thy table rise; 
They only now come but to /east thine eyes. 
This (with pleased for pleas' d) is the reading and arrange- 
ment of the Globe. The Folio, which prints the speech down 
to bosom as prose, has the two next lines as verse, thus : 

There tast, touch all pleas'd from thy Table rise : 
They onely now come but to Feast thine eies. 

Theobald (1733) printed, on the suggestion of Warburton: 

Th' Ear. Taste, Touch, Smell, pleas'd from thy Table rise. 

Malone reads: 

To t^atulate thy plenteous bosom ; The ear 
Taste, touch, smell, all pleas'd from thy table rise. 

Warburton 's emendation, which Theobald styles "in- 
-comparable," is supported by the fact that " the five best 
senses" have just before been mentioned, four of which 
had been feasted at Timon's table, and the fifth, viz. 
sight, was now to be gratified by the mastiue. 

61. Line 136: First Lord. You see, my lord, how ample 
you 're beloto'd.—The Folio prefixes Luc to this speech, 
and Ruwe. followed by all the editors till Capell, called 
the two lords Lucius and Lucullus throughout this scene, 
while, in order to avoid the awkwardness of their being 
present when their gifts to Timon arrive (see line 187 ft.), 
they insert {E*. Lucius and LueuUus after line 179, "So 
Are we alL" 

60 



62. Lines 189, 140: 
Like madneu is the glory of this life. 
As this pomp shows to a little oil and root. 

The second of these lines is an illustration of the dictum 
in the first When we contrast all this magnificence with 
all that a philosopher finds necessary, a little oil and 
root, we see how much madness there is in the lavish ex- 
penditure of the wealthy. This is substantially Johnson's 
interpretation. 

63. Lines 142-144: 
A fid spend our flatteries, to drink those men. 
Upon whose age we void it up agen. 
With poisonous spite and envy. 

We flatter the great and wealthy in order to devour all 
the good things they have to bestow; but in their old age 
we make them an envious and spiteful requital, and as it 
were vomit up their favours. 

61 Line 145: Who lives, Uiat 's not depraved or DX- 
PRAVES?— Here and in Much Ado, v. 1. 95: 

That lie. and cog. and ftout. dt/rave, and slander.— 

to deprave is to detract, slander. In Lear, IL 4. 138, 139: 

thou 'It not believe 
Of how defrav'd a quality. — 

depraved has its ordinary sense. 

66. Line 154: You've added worth unto 't and lustre.— 
F. 2, followed by most editors, reads *' and lively lustre." 

66. Line 157: First Lady. My lord, you take us. &c.— 
F. 1 prefixes, 1 Lord to this line. The change is Johnson's. 

67. Lhies lOG-168: 
There is no crossing him in 's humour; 
Else I should tell him,— well, € faith, I should,— 
When aU 's spent, he 'd be CROSS'D then, an he could. 

That is, he would be furnished with money, if he could; 
many coins, as is well known, having been marked with 
a cross on one side. The pun seems to have been a fa- 
vourite one; so As You Like It, ii. 4. 12: "I should bear 
no cross, if I did bear you ;" and II. Henry IV. L 2. S5S: 
"Not a penny, not a penny: you are too impatient to 
\M9iX crosses." 

68. Line 223: I'll call to you.— I will call upon you for 
assistance some day should I want it Compare Titus 
Andronicus, Ui. 1. 209, 210: 

If any power pities wretched tears. 
To that I caill 

69. Lines 230. 231: 
and aU the lands thou hast 

Lie in a PITCH.' D field. 
Alcib. Ay, DSFIL'D land, my lord. 

Alcibiades is told that "his estote lies in tkpitch'd field." 
Now pit4^, as Falstaff says, doth defile. Alcibiades there- 
fore replies that his estate lies in defiled land (Johnson). 
Rolfe says: "Crosby thinks there may be also a play on 
defiled in the sense of marching in defiles, or ranks; and 
perhaps on 'd<';Ue«= mountain-passes, valueless except to 
march through.' " The editor of F. 2 changed the "I, de- 
I fll'd Land " of F. 1 into "I defy Land." 



ACT II. 8oene 1. 



NOTES TO TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT XL Scene 2^ 



60. Lines 288, 280: 

/ doubt vhsther their lbqs be worth the tum$ 
That are given for 'em. 

He plajs upon the word leg, as it lignifles a 2im6, and a 
^ or act <tf obeieance ( Johnion). 

ACT II. Scene 1. 



it/oalt 9/M, straight. 



a. Lines 9, 10: 

And <tifle horse*. 
It itndghtway produces me colts, and able ones too. 



e. Lines 12, 13: 

It cannot hold; no reason 

Can F0V5D his state in safety. 

The Folio has soumf with the long s. The correction is 
Hanmer's. Johnson explains: "Season cannot find his 
fortune to hare any safe or solid foundation." 

O. Line 31: Lord Tinum wUl be left a naked OULL.— 
I belieTe that in some parts of the country an unfledged 
biid is still called a guU. The only other passage in which 
Sbskespeare uses the word in this sense is I. Henry IV. 
▼. L 60-61: 

And being fed by ns you us'd ut to 

As that ungentle guU, the cuckoo's bird, 

Useth the sparrow. 

In the present instance the senator probably has also in 
bis mind that other sense of guU, a dupe. 

61 Lines 33-35: 

Caph. 1 go, sir. 

Sen. "I go, sir ! " Take the bonds along wUh you, 
And have the dates in eompt. 

The Folio prints: 

Ca. I go sir. 

Sen. I go art 
Take the Bonds along with yoa. 
And haoe the dates in. Come. 

In eompt is Theobald's emendation; he observes: "Cer- 
tainly, erer since Bonds were given, the Date was put in 
when the Bond was enter'd into: And these Bonds Timon 
had already given, and the Time limited for their pay- 
ment was laps'd. The Senator^s charge to his Servant 
most be to the Tenour as I have amended the Text; viz. 
Take good Notice of the Dates, for the better Compu- 
tation of the Interest due upon them." But it is very 
likely that dates may be a misprint for debts. On the 
Mme page in the Folio we find d^t misprinted for date— 
"clamorous demands of debt, broken (date-broke) Bonds" 
(iL 1 38); if so, "have the debts in. Come," will be, get 
in the debts, come.— Such a misprint occurs every day, 
the printer altering the types at the wrong place in the 
I«<e. 

ACT II. Scene 2. 

6Su Lines 4-«: 

nor bbsuxeb no ears 

Of tehat is to eontinue: never n%ind 

Woe TO BE to untoise, to be so kind. 

Bo Rowe; F. 1 has "nor resume no care." To resume 
seems here to mean no more than to assume, take. 



Schmidt compares the use of rebate for bate, redeliver for 
deliver, regreet for greet, Ac. The following words pro- 
bably mean, as Bolfe explains them, "never was any 
mind doomed or destined to be so unwise by being so 
kind," another instance of the gerundive infinitive; but 
one would be tempted to read, "was ever so unwise, to be 
soUnd." 

66. line 9: Stage-direction: Enter Caphis, and the Ser- 
vants of Isidore and Yarro.— F. 1 has Enter Caphis, Isidore, . 
and Varro. Here, and again in act iii. scene 4, the ser- 
vants are addressed by their masters* names. 

67. Lines 30, 81: 

'TuHU due on FORFEITURE, my lord, six weeks 
And past 

The only other play in which the word forfeiture occurs 
is The Merchant of Venice, where it occurs eight times. 
Schmidt distinguishes two meanings: (1) that which is lost 
on an engagement; and (2) the falling due of a debt, under 
which latter head he sets the present passage: but the 
idea of liability to penal seizure of goods underlies all the 
instances, and seems to be all that is required. 

68. Line 38: With damorous demands ef l»ATE-BROEE. 
&<md«.— This is Steevens' improvement of Malone's con- 
jecture, who printed ** date-broken bonds." The Folios 
have: 

With clamorous demands of debt, broken Bonds. 

against which reading there is both the metre and the 
occurrence of the word debts in the next line. 

69. Lines 71-73: She '« e'en setting on water to scald such 
chickens as you are. Would we could see you at Corinth!' 
— An allusion to the cure for the disease caught at such 
places as the Fool here styles Corinth, which was, as 
Warburton notes, " a cant name for a bawdy-house." The 
patient was put into a tub of hot water and parboiled. 
Henley explains the use of the word chickens, by referring 
to an old custom of scalding off the feathers of poultry 
instead of plucking them. 

70. Line 76: Look yo%i, here comes my MISTRESS' page. 
—Here, and in line 107, "my mistress^ house," the Folia 
has Masters. Theobald prints mistress's in both places. 
Malone says: ** Master was frequently printed in the old 
copy instead of mistress, and vice versa, from the ancient 
mode of writing a M. only, which stood in the MSS. of 
Shakespeare's time either for the one or the other: and 
the copyist or printer completed the word without attend- 
ing to the context" 

71. Line 94: I wHl go with you to Lord Timon's.—A» 
they are already in "a hall in Timon's house." this must 
mean into the inner part of the house where Timon then 
waa. Perhaps, however, this scene should be placed 
b<ifore Timon's house. No localities are assigned to the 
scenes in the Folios, and Bowe, who places this scene in 
" Timon's haU," was the first to assign theuL 

72. Line 137: At many leisures I propos'd.— So F. S; F. 1 
has '* I propose." 

78. line 144: And say, you found them in mine honesty^ 
—So Bowe. F. 1 has "sound them." See note 62. 

61 



ACT II. Soene 2. 



NOTES TO TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACTIIL I 



74. LinMl52-lM: 
Though ycu hear noto— too late— yet noio't a (fiiM, 
The greatett qf your having ladtt a half 
To pay your pretent debti. 

No satisfactory explanation has been giren of the first 
line of this passage, and the Olobe editors mark it as cor- 
rupt. All that can be affirmed with any certainty is that 
the steward wishes to give Timon to understand that it 
was now too late to listen to his remonstrances, and that 
his debts exceeded his assets by one-half. The difficulty 
lies in the words "yet now's a time." Warburton ex- 
plained them to mean a time to prerent ruin by the assis- 
tance of your friends; but from what follows it is clear 
that the steward had very little reliance on thera; see 
especially the two concluding lines of the scene. Eitson: 
a time for yon to hear what I have to tell you. Malone. 
connecting them with the followLug line: a time at which 
the whole of your remaining fortune will scarce pay half 
your debts. Hanmer, followed by Johnson and Capell, 
printed: 

Thou(;h you hear now, yet now 's too late a time. 

This is a very probable conjecture, for the words "too 
late " may have been inserted above the line in the MS. 
and slipped into the wrong place by the printer. 

76. Line 164: 1/ you tutpeet my hutbandry OR faUehood. 
— Schmidt, s. v. FaUehood, reads in this line "o/falsehood," 
which, if not an accidental misquotation (for he does not 
mention the reading of the Folio), is a rather happy con- 
jecture. 

76. Line 168: With rioUmt FEEDERS.— Compare Antony 

and Cleopatra, iii. 13. 108, 109, where Antony is in a rage 

with Cleopatra for having suffered a feeder^ as he caUs 

Thy reus, to kiss her hand: 

to be abus'd 

By one that looks cn/ettUrs. 

According to Schmidt feeden are parasites. Steevens 
says: "eervante whose low debaucheries are practised in 
the ojleee of a house." 

77. Lines 171, 172: 

/ have retired me to a WASTEFUL COCK, 
And eet mine eye* at flow. 

The steward's mind is so full of this scene of wasteful 
riot, with its lavish consumption of food, and drunken 
heedlessness, which sets the wine -casks abroach and 
leaves them running without turning off the tap, that 
before he is aware of it he uses these images to describe 
his own tearful grief at witnessing such scenes; he meant 
only to say that he retired to weep in private, but he 
makes his own eyes the ''wasteful cock" which set his 
tears "at flow." Thus the general idea seems dear; but 
the construction must not be pressed too literally. Staun- 
ton— who justly observes that everybody who reads the 
context must feel instinctively that " a toatt^ul eoek" 
i.e. the tap of a wine-butt turned on to waste, is an image 
peculiarly suitable in the steward's picture of profligate 
dissipation— proposed to read: 

I have retir'd (me TOO a wtut^i eocJt.) 
And Mt mine eyes at flow. 

Of other emendations the happiest is that of Swynfen 
Jervis (I860), via. wakeifid couch. This is adopted by Bolf e, 

62 



who says: *'wakt/ul is favoured by the fact thai 
compositor's 'case' the type for tt (one chancte 
old style) and for the k were in contiguous hosm, 
' distributing ' type an tt might sometimes get in 
box by mistake. As Dr. Ingleby (Shakes. Hermane 
118) adds: ' Not improbably unkijidl in the *co\ 
gested cock to the mind of the workman instead o 
by the power of association; the barn-cock beix 
called the toakiful bird or the toak^ul cock."* 

78. Line 180: F«a«e-iMm,/(tM(4offt.— Won by feast 
by fasting. It must be remembered that in Shake 
day fcatt was pronounced faitt (ea like a in fade) 
pun will then be intelligible. 

79. Lhies 182, 183: 

No villanotte bounty yet hath pate'd my het 
Unwisely f not ignobly, have I given. 

Timon, although beggared through want of pi 
consoles himself with the reflection that his ruin 
brought on by the pursuit of guilty pleasures (Sti 

80. UneW'.AndtrytheASLQVKEJiTqfhearttby 
ing.—Thtit is. flnd out what they have in them. 1 
mary of contents prefixed to a poem or treatise wi 
the argument; Shakespeare has prefixed one to 1 
of Lucrece. 

81. Line 194: Within there! Flaminiue! SernKi 
Folios have Flauittt. As Malone says, the error ] 
arose from Fla. only being set down in the 3J 
stage-direction following this line is Rowe's; tl 
has Enter three Seruants; but unleM the steward 
is to go to the senators and to Ventidius. more 
are wanted. 

82. Line 219: And to, iNTENDlNa other terioue 
—For this sense of intend (= pretend) compare Ti 
the Shrew, iv. 1. 206, 207: 

Ay. and amid this hurly I itUend 
That all is done in reverent care of her. 

83. Lines 2S0. 231: 

Thou art true and honett; DIOENIOUSLT / 1, 
No blame belongs to thee. 

1 speak sincerely, from the heart The adjectiv* 
out, in its literal sense, signifies dwelling in tt 
and so heartfelt, conscious; so Lear, iv. 6. 2S6-28 

how miff is my vik sense. 
That I stand up. and have in^tnious feeling 
Of my huf^e sonrows ! 

84. Lines 230, 237: 

Bid him suppose some good necessity 
Touches his friend. 

Some honest need. Steevens aptly quotes the i 
Servilius (iii. 2. 45. 4C) in pressing his master's re 
If his occasion were not virtuous, 
I should not urge it half so faithfully. 

ACrr III. Scene 1. 

86. Stage-direction.— The Folio has, Flaminitu 
to speaks wUh a Lord from his Master, enters a 
to him. 



ACT UL Soene 1. 



NOTES TO TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT in. Boone 4. 



M. Line 8: ycu are very EBPlcnyiLT wdeomet eir. — 
The idJectiTe reepeetive meent haring cmre or regerd lor, 
ai Herdumt of Venice, t. 1. IM: 

Yoa ihould have been rts/tttwe, and have kept it (the ting) ; 

tad Borneo and JoUet, iiL 1. 128: 

Away to heaTcn, re ^/ te tiv t lenity. 
And fire«y'd fury be my conduct now i 

The adJectiTe reepe^ful^ which has acquired a rather 

narrower meaning, doea not occur in Shaketpeare. 

87. Line 48: Here't three solidarks /or thee.— Then 
vppean to be no other mention of the coin tolidaret and 
Steerena beliered it waa "from the mint of the poet;" 
but however thia may be, there waa a coin in the time of 
the Roman emperora called tolidut^ from which word waa 
fomed the Low Latin eoidumt pay, and from thia «o2- 
deriuej one who receired pay, a aoldier. According to 
Narea. who drawa hia information from Da Cange, there 
wu alao a word eolidata aignifying pay, and eoUdare, a 
terb expreaaing the act of paying. 

88. Linea 54, 65: 

May theee add to the number that may ecald thee ! 

Let mollen coin he thy damnation. 
Tbere aeems to have been an old belief that in hell the 
aTarldona were pnniahed by being dipped into caldrona 
of molten metal, and to thia the text probably alludea. 
Steerena aaya: "In The Shepherd'a Calendar [a medley of 
proae and yerae tranalated from a French original of the 
lame name circa 1480], Lazarua declarea himaelf to have 
tea in hell, 'a great number of wide cauldrona and 
kettlea, fall of boyling lead and oyle, with other hot metala 
molten, in the which were planged and dipped the 
coTetoaa men and women, for to fulfill and repleniah 
tbem of their inaatiate coTetiae.'" 

ACT IIL Scene 2. 

89. linea 12, IS: not Umg ago, one qf hit men wae with 
tit Lord LueuUuM to borrow eo many talente. —Here and 
in Uues 25 and 41, where the aame ezpreaaion "ao many 
talenU" occara, Theobald and moat eighteenth century 
editora read "fifty talents; " and perhapa with reaaon, 
for, aa Lettaom remarlca (note on Walker'a Critical ExanL 
ToL iiL p. 232X " The aame worda, three timee occurring, 
dtow that a definite aum waa the aubject of conreraation, 
and it la clear from thia and the two preceding acenea, 
that that definite aum weM fifty talenU" 

90. Linea 24-26: yet, had he mietook him, and eent to me, 
I Aould ne'er have denied hit oeeaiion to many talente. —It 
vonld haTe been a kind of miatake in Timon to apply to 
a peraon who had receiyed auch trifling faToara from him, 
in preference to Lucnllua, who had recdTed much greater 
(Monck MaaonX 

91. Line 43: He cannot itKVt fifty Jive hundred talenU. 
-The Globe editora mark thia line aa corrupt The fol- 
lowing ia an attempt to make aenae of it, which may go 
for what it ia worth. Senrilioa, we may aaaume (aee the 
pnriooa noteX had Joit aaked Laciua for fifty talenta. 
What! repliea Locina, he mnat be Joking. I know he 
cannot want, i.e. be without, fifty fire hundred talenta. 
flenriUua understanding the word want to mean deaire to 
kafe, rejoina that he wants much leea. 



98. linea 51-54: how unluckily it happen'd, that 1 thould 
pttrehate the daybeforefor a little part, and undo a great 
deal qf honourl—Oow unlucky it waa that I ahould have 
made a bargain by which I gained a little honour, and 
loat the chance of gaining a great deaL 

88. Linea 71, 72: 

andjutt of the tame piece 

It every fiattereft 8PIRIT. 

Thia ia Theobald'a emendation. The Folios hare Flat- 
tererttport. 

94. Linea 89-81: 

Had hit necettity made ute of me, 

I would have put my wealth into donation. 

And the beet half thould hate returh 'D to him. 

If he had aent to borrow of me, I would have treated my 
wealth aa a fund aet apart for donation, i.e. giving away, 
and the larger portion ahould have been Timon'a ahare. 
For return in thia aenae— to fall to, become the ahare of — 
compare Hamlet, L 1. 90-05: 

Against the which, a moiety competent 

Was gnged by our king; which had rtturH'd 

To the hiheritance of Fortinbras, 

Had he been vanquisher; as, by the same covenant, . . . 

His fell to Hamlet. 

Thua the idea ia not of aomethiug going back where it waa 
before, a aenae which the word return usually impliea, 
but of aomething going where it ia due, to ita proper 
place. 

ACT III. Scene 8. 

95. line 5: Owet their ettatet.—So F. 1; F. 2 haa Owe. 

9& Linea 11, 12: 

Hitfriendt, like phyticiant. 

Thrive, give him over. 

Hia frienda are like phyaiciana. who give up all hope of 
their patients while they continue to fiouriah themaelvea. 
Johnaon proposed Thrice for Thrive, an emendation 
which is adopted by Dyce and other modem editors, al- 
though without much point 

97. Line 21: and 'monget lordt I be thought afooL—Y. 1 
omits /; inserted by F. 2. Staunton suggested that the 
original reading was that of F. 1 with / for i< in the pre- 
vious line: "ao 1 may prove," <S:c. 

96. Linea 28-31: The devil knew not what he did when 
he made man politic,— he crotted himteJf by 't: and I 
cannot think but, in the end, the villaniet of man will tet 
him elear.—The devil, in making man crafty, defeated hia 
own purpoMs, for in the long run the villaniea of man will 
aet him clear from the power of the devil, who will be 
beaten at hia own trade. The commentatora have been 
aorely perplexed by thia paaaage. Only Warburton and 
Bitaon underatood it properly. 

99. Line 42: ITAo cannot keep hit wealth mutt keep hit 
houte; i.e. keep within doora for fear of duna (JohnaonX 

ACT III. Scene 4. 

100. Stage-direction.— The Folio haa Enter Varro't man, 
meeting othert. All Timont Creditort to wait for hit com- 
nUng out Then enter Luciut and Hortentiut. 

63 



ACT III. Scene 4. 



NOTES TO TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT III. Scene 8u 



101. lineB 21-24: 

Luc. Senr. Mark, how ttrange U tftoiot, 

Timon in thit should pay more than he owes; 
And e'en as \f your lord should wear rich jewels. 
And send /or money for 'em. 

HortenduB, argues the servant of Lucius, should forbear 
to press Timon for payment of his debt in consideration 
of the Jewels which he has received from him as a gift 

101 Lines 88. 89: 

Hor. And mine, my lord. 

Both Var. Senr. And ourst m^ lord. 

The Folio prefixes 1 Var. and 2 Var. to these speeches. 
Capell made the change, which explains itseU. 

103. line 01: Knock me down with 'em: deave me to the 
girdle.— Timon. is punning on the two words, biU a weapon, 
and bill a paper. 

104. Linea 112, 113: 

Lucius, LucuUus, andSemprontut: 
All, sirrah, all. 

This is the reading of the Globe. F. 1 has: 

Lucius, Lucuilus, and Sem/roniux VUcrxa: All. 
F. 2: 

Lucius, LucuUus, add Stmprovius: AIL 

F. 8: 

Lucius, Lucuilus, and Scmpronius; aU. 

For VUotxa Collier conjecttired " all, look, sir," or " Sem- 
pronius— Ftop. Alack, sir;" Sidney Walker, "Valerius, 
aU;" Cowden Clarke and Grant White independently, 
"Yentidius;" Fleay, "all luxors:" luxorsiy.e. luxurious, 
lustful persons) being a favourite word of Cyril Toumeur, 
whom at one time he conjectured to be the second 
author concerned in the play. Dyce follows F. 8. The 
word is undoubtedly a corruption, and has been, as 
Schmidt observes, a whetstone to the sagacity of emen- 
dators. From the fact that the line scans equally well 
with either Sempronius or VUorxa Dr. Brinsley Nichol- 
son concludes that VUorza represents a substitute word 
for Sempronius, which was written over it in the MS., 
but was by the compositor printed t^fter it Mr. B. G. 
Kinnear says: "The transcriber appears to have caught 
and written the first two words of the next line, lie once, 
and immediately finding his mistake, to have imperfectly 
cancelled them; in this form the compositor took them 
for VUorxa." 

ACT III. Scene 5. 

106. Stage-direction.— The Folio has Enter three Sena- 
tars at one doore, Aldbiades meeting them, with Attend- 
ants. 

10& Line 4: the law shall l»ruise HIM.— The Folio has 

"bruise 'em." The correction is Hanmer'a 

« 

107. Line 17: Ax honour in him which buys out his 

fault — ¥. 1 reads "And honour." The correction is 
Johnson's. 

10& Line 22: He did BEHAVE his anger.— F. 1 has "be- 
hooue his anger." The correction is Rowe's. Shake- 
speare does not elsewhere use the verb behave in a tran- 
sitive sense, except refiectively, but Malone quotes Spen- 
ser, Faery Queen, ii. 3. 40: 

64' 



But who his limbs with laboois, and his m jad 
SeMaves with cares, cannot so easy mis. 

Mr. B. G. Kinnear, comparing Lear, iv. 8. 24-26: 

In brief, sorrow 
Would be a raritj most belov'd, if all 
Could so become it, 

would read " become his anger." 

100. Line 40: the /elon.— Johnson's conjecture for The 
fellow of the Folio. 

110. line M: To kUl, I grant, is tin's extremMt gugt— 
I am inclined to think that "sin's eztremest gust" is 
"sin's greatest fury," most furious action, the metaphor 
being from a violent gust of wind. Many commentators* 
however, follow Johnson in explaining it to mean "rel- 
ish," "appetite," as we use gusto. In Twelfth Night, L 8. 
82, it certainly has this meaning: "he hath the gift of a 
coward to allay the guet he hath in quarrelling." 

111. Line 56: But, in dtfence, by mercy, 'tit mott jutt. 
—If this does not mean more than (as explained in the 
foot-note) "by your leave," we must adopt Malone's ex- 
planation: " Homicide in our own defence, by a merdful 
and lenient interpretation of the laws, is considered as 
Justifiable." Johnson with less likeUhood takes it as an 
adjuration: " I call mercy herself to witness* that defen- 
sive violence is Just" 

112. Line 63: Why, say, my lords, he hat done fair ter- 
viee.—¥. 1 prints this line. 

Why say my Lords ha's done faire seruice ; 

F. 2, " Why / say," &c. Theobald, followed by the Globe, 
reads "/8ay,"&c. 

113. Line 67: unth 'EM.— So F. 2. F. 1 has "with him." 

114. Line 82: my honours.— So F. 2. F. 1 has Honour, 

115. Liner 114, 115: 

1 'U diter up 

My discontented troops, and ULYfor heartt. 

This may mean either, I must lay traps for the affec- 
tions of the people— compare, " These five d^ys have I hid 
me in these woods and durst not peep out, for all the 
country is laid for me" (11. Hen. VI. iv. 10. 8-5);— or I 
must lay myself out for them, lay being used as in Ben 
Jonson, The Devil is an Ass, act IL sc 1, p. 114, ed. 1631, 
quoted by Tyrwhitt: 

Lay for some petty principality. 

116. Line 116: 'Tit honour with most lands to be at 
oddf.- Alcibiades is giving vent to his indignation at the 
meanness of the senate, and Heatii is therefore no doubt 
correct in his explanation of this line: "Governments are 
in'genexal so ill administered, that there are very few 
whom it is not an honour to oppose." 

ACT III. Scene 6. 

117. —Stage-direction.— The Folio has only, Bnttr diuert 
Friends at seuerall doores. 

lia Line 5: Upon that were my thoughts TIRIMO.— To 
tire in this sense is an expression borrowed ftom fal- 
conry, and used of the hawk seising and devouring its 
prey. Harting, Ornithology of Shakespeare, p. 88, says: 
" When a hawk was in training, it was often necessary to 



ACT IIL SoBM 6. 



NOTES TO TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT IV. BouM 1 



prokNig hn meal as mach ai powible, to prereDt her 
from gorging; thia was effected by giving her a tou|^ or 
bony bit to tire on; that is to tear, or pull at." Compare 
Veniu and Adonis, 66-^: 

Eren as an empty eaf^le, sharp by last, 
Tirts with her beak on feathers, flesh, and bone. 
Shaking her winj^ devuurini{ all in haste. 
Till either gorge be stolTd, or prey be gone. 

119. Line 21: Bvery man HERE'S to.— ^pelt in F. 1 
kmrti. 

UO. Line 43: Ah, m^ good friend,— what cketrt— After 
this the Folio has Tlu Banket brought in, marking 
the stage-direction prematurely, as is often the case in 
drunas printed from the prompter's book; that the pro- 
perty man might be ready with the articles required for 
the scene (DyceX See Introduction, p. 0. 

UL Line 51: Let it not cumber your better renien^ 
ksjMc— You will be better advised not to think so 
Miioasly of such a trifle. 

Ul. Lines 89-01: The rest qf your FEES, god*,— the 
mmtors of A thent, together teith the common LAG qf people, 
-The word/ee«, which Schmidt takes to mean " property" 
-Cqiell, "those who are forfeit to your vengeance ">- 
nut surely be corrupt Warburton substituted foee, 
which most editors have accepted. Considering the these 
MypmeseiU friends which follows, perhaps we might read, 
"The rest of your (or even my) friends." In the MS., if 
csreleasly written, my may have been taken for yr, the 
abbreviation of your, and the abbreviation fds, tor fees. 
Ug was substituted by Rowe for legge of the Folio. 

123 liue 101: Who, stuck and spangled with your flat- 
teriti.-9o Hanmer, Warburton. and Capell. F. 1 has: 

Who stucke and spangled you with Flatteries. 

Ui Line lOtf: trencher-friends, time's flies.— Compare 
«ttiLic.2. 17d-181: 

Ah. when the means are gone that buy this praise. 
The breath is gone whereof this praise is made : 
Feast-won, fast-lost ; one cloud of winter showers. 
These Jties are couch'd. 

US. IJne 107: minute-jacks.— Jack is commonly used 
M s term of contempt for a paltry fellow. So minute- 
.*>dci are persons who change their mind every minute, 
nd are not to be relied upon. There may also be an 
■nuiaii to the figures that struck the bell in old clocks, 
ctUed "Jacks o' the clock;" compare Bichard XL v. 5. 
MO: 

my time 
Runs posting on in BoUngbroke's proud Joy, 
While I stand fooling here, his ^adt o' tht deck. 

1% Line 111: Stage-direction.— Pelts them with stones, 
ud drives them out— The Folio has uo stage-direction 
here. Kowe put. Throwing the Dishes at them, and drives 
'«» out. Sidney Walker (Critical Exam. vol. lii. p. 236) sug- 
foted the change, as harmonizing with line 111, " Stay, 
I vill lend thee money, borrow none."— stones being more 
Uke money than dishes are ; and witli the last liue of the 
■ceas, "One day he gives us diamonds, next day stones." 
Jo the academic play "Timon." printed by Dyce (see In- 
tnNtnction, note 1, page 4), Timon pelts his gruests with 
■tones painted to resemble artichokes. 

U7. Line 115: Stage • direction.— Be-enter the Lords, 
VOL. VII. 



Senators. <&c.— So the Globe. The Folio haa Enter the 
Senators, with other Lords. 

128. line 121: naught but HUMOUB siMyt him.— So F. & 
F. 1 has humors. 

129. Lines 125, 126: 

Third Lord 

Sec. Lord. ...... 

The Folio haa: 

2. . . . 

>- * . • . 

But see what precedes (Dyce). 

ACT IV. ScenK 1. 

lao. line 2: That aiRDLEST in those wolves.So Bowe. 
F. 1 has girdles. 

131. line 7: ComrsKT o' th' instant, green virginity — 
The verb convert is several times used by Shakespeare in 
an intransitive sense; so Macbeth, iv. S. 228, 229: 

let grief 
CoHvtrt to anger ; blunt not the heart, enrage it 

1S2. Line 13: son qf sixteen.-^&o F. 2; F. 1 has Some. 

133. Line 21: And LET confusion fire.'— Hanmer's cor- 
rection. The Folio has " And yet Confusion liue. " 

ACT IV. SCKNK 2. 

131 Lines 10, 11: 

So hu familiars TO his buried fortunes 
Slink cUl auKiy. 

Those who had been familiar friends with his fortunes 
now buried desert him. Hanmer printed, "from his 
buried fortunes "—an unnecessary alteration. 

135. Line 15: Walks, like CONTEMPT, alone.— Contempt 
is here, of course, as in line 32 below, the state of being 
despised, and not the act of despising. So Twelfth Night, 
IL 5. 224: "it cannot but turn him into a notable con- 
tempt;" and Bomeo and Juliet, v. 1. 71: 

CoHUmpe and beggary hangs upon thy back. 

136. Lines 83. 84: 

Who 'dbeso moek'd ttith glory f or TO lite 
But in a dream qffrieiuishipf 

Staunton, followed by Dyce, unnecessarily read "or so 
live." See Abbott, Shakespearian Grammar. i350: "The 
to is often omitted in the former of two clauses and in- 
serted in the latter, particularly when the finite principal 
verb is an auxiliary, or like an auxiliary." Compare Tem- 
pest, iii. 1. 01-63: 

I woulil, not so!— and would no more endure 
This wooden slavery than to suffer 
The flesh-fly l>low my mouth. 

137. Lines 38. 39: 

Strange, unusual blood. 

When man's worst sin is, he does too much good ! 

How strange is the disposition of men. that they should 
consider an excess of generosity, such as Timon's, the 
worst offence that can be committed. 

138. Line 41: l>OE8 stUl mar tii^n.— So F. 4. F. 1, F. 2, 
andF. Shave "do still. 

60 171 



ACT lY. Soene 8. 



NOTES TO TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT IV. Scene 3. 



ACT IV.—SCBNE 8. 

189. lines 6-8: 

not If ATURS, 

To whom all toret lay tiege, can bear ffreat fortune. 

But by contempt qf nature. 

Hanuui Dature, subject as it is to degrading infirmities, 
cannot bear an access of good fortune without disregard- 
ing natural ties, and treating even a twin brother with 
contempt Moncic Mason, who proposed to read naturee 
instead of nature, interprets, " Not even beings reduced 
to the utmost extremity of wretchedness, can bear good 
fortune without contemning their fellow-creatures." 

140. Line 10: The senator thall bear contempt heredi- 
lary.—So Rowe. F. 1 has Senatore. 

141. Lines 12, 18: 

It i» the PASTURE lards the eothsr's Hdet, 
The want that maket him lean. 

The Folio prints these lines as follows: 

It is the Putour Lards, the Brothers sides. 
The want that makes him leaue. 

Patture is Eowe's reading: beggar** is Rowe's also: rother'e, 
the reading of the Collier MS., adopted by Singer in his 
second edition. Leaue was corrected to lean in F. 2. 

142. Line 10: eoer^ORlSE({^/oytui)«.— Compare Othello, 

i. 8. lOd-201: 

Let me speak like yourself, and lay a sentence. 
Which, as A grist or step, may help these lovers 
Into your favour. 

148. Line 18: all ie oblique— So Theobald. F. 1 has 
" Aire obliquie;" F. 2, " AWm obliquy." 

144. Lines 10, 20: 

There '« nothing LEVEL in our cursed natures, 
But direct villany. 

The use of the verb level in the sense of aiming a gun will 
explain the use of the adjective here in the sense of 
straight Compare Hamlet, iv. 1. 42, 43: 

As /eve/ as the cannon to his blank. 
Transports his poison'd shot. 

146. Line 27: I amtio idle votarist.—So insincere or in- 
constant supplicant. Gold will not serve me instead of 
roots (Johnson). 

146. Line 32: Pluck STOUT men's pillows from below their 
heads; i.e. men who have strength yet remaining to 
struggle with their distemper. This alludes to an old cus- 
tom of drawing away the pillow from under the heads of 
men in their last agonies to make their departure the 
easier (Warburton). Hannier substituted tick for stout, 
which Staunton considers the true reading; and Mr. B. 0. 
Kiniiear remarks: "Shakespeare always uses stout ap- 
plied to men in the senses of bold or proud. Stout men 
would not be on a sick bed." Ue quotes Ben Jonson, 
Volpone, U. 6 (p. 477, ed. 161(J): 

And. in hLs next fit, we may let him i;oe. 
T is but to pull the pillow from his head. 
And he is thratled. 

147. Lines 87. 38: 

this is it 

That maket the wappen'd widow wed again. 

66 



It is her gold that causes the worn-out widow (compare 
Kich. nL L 1. 81: 

The Jealous o'erwcrH vidaw and herself) 

to find another husband. The precise form wafipened 
is not found elsewhere; but vfapper'd is given in Grose's 
Provincial Glossary as aGloucestershire word. "Wapper'd, 
restleM or fatigued; spoken of a sick person.— Glouc" 
The two following passages are quoted by Steevens: 

Mo//. And there you shall wa^ with me. 
^i^* B. Nay. Moll, what 's that wa/ 1 

Moll. Wapfenittg and nifn^iini; is all one, the roffue my man can 
tell you. — Middleton. The Roaring Girl (i6tt). 

" ^i^ggli^ is company-keeping with a woman. Hiis word 

is not used now, but wapping, and thereof comes the 

name im>;)pi9H7-morts for whores" (Martin Mark-all's Apo- 

logie to the Bel-man of London, 1610X Malone notes the 

occurrence of the word unwapper^d in The Two Noble 

Kinsmen, v. 4. 0-11: 

we come towards the gods 

Yonf^, and uHwapper'd, not halting under crymes 

Many and stale. 

In his note on this passage Mr. Harold Littledale suggests 
that vM,pptr may be formed from wap, ** a word found in 
Morte D' Arthur (Globe ed. p. 4S0), where Sir Bedivere 
says, ' I saw nothing but the waters wap and the waves 
wan,'— of the restless action of the waters ' lapping on 
the crag.' This shows us the precise force of wapper, 
tremulous, quivering, restless; and wapper^d, worn by 
unrest" 

148. Lines 48, 44: 

/ will make thee 

Do thy right nature. 
Lie in the earth, where nature laid thee (Johnson). 

148. Line 53: / am MiSANTHROPOS, and hate mankind. 
—In North's Plutarch, Life of Antonlus, c. 38, is the 
marginal note: "Antonlus followeth the life and exami^ 
of Timon Misanthropos, the Athenian." 

160. Lines G4, 65: 

/ will not kist thee; then the rot returtit 
To thine own lips again. 

This alludes to an opinion in former times, generally pre- 
valent, that the venereal infection transmitted to another 
left the infecter free. I will not, says Timon, take the 
rot from thy lips, by kissing thee (Johnson). 

161. Line 87: The tub-fast.— So Theobald, at the sug- 
gestion of Warburton. The Folios have Fubfaet. See ii. 
2. 71, and note 00. 

162. Lines 115, IIC: 

those milk'paps. 

That through the WINDOW-BARS bore at men's eye4. 
F. 1 has window Bame. Johnson conjectured window- 
bars, which Steevens first introduced into the text. The 
reference is to the crossbar embroidery worn by women 
across the Imsoui, sometimes with no stomacher under it 

163. Lines 120, 121: 

Thitik it a bastanl, whom the orade 

Uath donbtfuUy pronounc'd THT throat shall aU. 

The Folios have " the thrtrnt" The correction is Pope's. 

164. Line 122: swear against objects; i.e. let not any- 



ACT IV. Soene 8. 



NOTES TO TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT IV. ttooutt 3. 



thing move yoa to pity; be proof against all appeals to 
your mercy. The word <tbiect was specially used of any- 
tbing inspiring sympathy or antipathy; so Troilos and 
Cressida. iv. 5. 106, 106: 

For Hector, in his blaze of wrath, subscribes 
To tender octets {i.e. submiu to their influence). 

15S. lines 133, 131: 

Enough to make a where forttctar her trade. 

And to make whores, a bawd. 
That is, enough to malce a whore leave whoring, and a 
btwd leave making whores (Johnson^ 

15a Lines 186-139: 

you are not othable,^ 

Although. I know, you 'U ewear, &c 
noum has told the two courtezans that he has enough 
gold to make them forswear their trade, and has bidden 
them hold up their aprons to receive it He continues: 
I know yoa are quite ready to swear the most terrible 
osthi that you will reform— but do not waste your breath, 
yoo would have no regard for the sanctity of any oath, 
lad I can trust your inclinations that you will renudn as 
yon are, and be whores stilL 

157. Lines 143-145: 

yet may your pains, six months. 
Be quite contrdry: and thatch your poor thin roqfs 
With burdens of the dead. 

That is, as ViTarburton explains it, let your labour and 
lams for six months of the year be quite different After 
q^ending six months in debauchery you must spend the 
other six in recovering from its effects, and fitting your- 
sehes anew for the trade. Among other things you will 
bave to put on false hair to make up for the loss of your 
own. Johnson and Steevens went quite astray over this 
pwage. 

Itt. Line 155: HOAR the flamen,— For Jioar (here = make 

Totteo). used in the sense of old, mouldy, rotten, because 

Bouldineas gives a white appearance, compare MercuUo's 

Pumingsong: 

An old hare k4far. 

And an old hare Acar, 
Is very good meat in lent: 

But a hare that is Aoar 

Is too much for a score, 
Wheo it Manrs ere it be spent. 

—Romeo and Juliet, iL 4. 141-146. 

Bolfe explains, " make the priest hoary with leprosy;" but 
this leems leas appropriate. 

ISA. Lines 159, 160: 

0/him that, his particular to foresee, 

Smells from the general weal. 
The metaphor is from dogs hunting. The man intended 
Uooe who deserts the public advantage to look after his 
<>vn private interests. 

160 Line 183: With all th' abhorred births below crisp 
A«iw}L_Steevens quotes Robert Anton, The Philoso- 
Pber"! Satires (1610): 

Her face as beauteous as the crisped mom. 

IQ. Line 185: who all tut human sons doth hate.— 
The Folio has " who all the humane Sohnes do hate." Thy 
«aa substitated by Pope, doth by Rowe. 



162. Line 193: Dry up thy harrows, vines, and plough- 
torn leas.— **The Folio has Marrowes; qy. if a mistake for 
marrowie (marrowy) as an epithet to vines) Cotgrave 
in his Diet gives * Moelleux. Marrowie, pithie, full of 
strength or strong sap. ' "— (Dyce). Capell paraphrases aa 
follows: " Dry up your fat lands that cattle graze upon, 
your vine lands, and lands lay'd for the plow that prodace 
barley, for with the two latter accord the licorish draughts 
of the line following, and with marroufs the unetioiu 
morsels of the next line." 

168. Line 204: From chafige qf FORTUNE.— So Rowe. 
The Folios have /udtre. 

164. Une 215: that bade weUome.-^F. 1 has "that bad 
welcom;" F. 2 changed bad to bid, which most editors 
adopt. 

166. Lines 223, 224: 

wiU these moist trees. 

That have outliv'd the eagle, page thy heels. 

For moist Hanmer conjectured moss'd, which has been 
adopted by most editors. Steevens compares As You Like 
It, iv. 3. 106: 

Under an 0.1k, whose boughs were moss'd with age. 

But after the preceding words— 

What, think St 
That the bleak air, thy boisterous chamberlain. 
Will put thy shirt on warm? 

the transition seems natural to the moist, damp trees. 
Sir Philip Perriug (Hard Knots, &c p. 345) would inter- 
pret moist to mean "strong and vigorous, full of the Juice 
and sap of life." 

166. Line 225: .^ruf skip WHERE thou points st ouif— 
Where is Sidney Walker's correction for when of the 
Folios. 

167. Line 245-247: 

best state, contentless. 

Hath a distracted and most wretched being. 
Worse than the worst, content. 

Best states, contentless, have a wretched being, a being 
worse than that of the worst states that are content 
(Johnson). 

168. Lines 253-255: 

The sweet degrees that this brief world affords 
To such as may the passive drugs qf it 
Freely command. 

If drugs is the true reading, Schmidt is probably right in 
explaining it metaphorically, "all things in passive sub- 
serviency to salutary as well as pernicious purposes." 
Johnson takes it to be an old form of drudges; and Todd 
quotes from Huloet: "Drudge, or drugge, a seruant which 
doth all the vile seruice;" and from Baret: "Drudge, a 
drug,orkitchen-8lave" (Todd's Johnson's Dieted. Latham). 
Capell conjectured dregs. Command is Rowe's correction 
for command'st of the Folios. 



169. Lines 259-265: 



But myself. 



That nun^erless upon me stuck, as leaves 
Do on the oak, have with one unnter's brush 
¥ell from their boughs and l^t me open, bare. 

67 



ACT IV. aoaiM S. 
All [bituice of anon 



NOTES TO TJMON OF ATHENS. 



jilted canitnctlon ; 



in TlMi Andnuilciu, iL t. 



jud Id Lmt, 1v e. M: 



for /aUtn li ilKi found 



170. Llm* trt. ^9: 

If tivm hadtt not bten bom tiu wont qf nun, 
ThvahaOti bien a hum and JkUlerrr. 
DiTdcD hu quoted two Tanc* of VItbU In ihov bow vcU 
b« ooold tart written utlns. Sbikapure hu hsn 
given B ipaclmen of the imdu power b; & lioe bitter be- 
yoDd >1l blttcnieu, Id which Tlnion tell* Apemautua. that 
he had not Tlrtoe enough (or the vlte» which he con- 
demu. Dr. Wftrburt«n eipliini teortt bj louftt, which 
•ODiewhit wetkena the •sue, and yet leavai It anfflcleDllr 
ligoroDi. I have heard Ur. Burke cDDunend the auhtletr 
of dlacilmliiation with which Shakeipeare dlatlngulahaa 
the pnaant ch*nctet ol Ttmon from tb*t of Apemantoi, 



nnjfliny, take ai 



Otf«W- 



171. Line !83: ^nl ineiui HV t 
ael^.— So Kowe. The Polloa have 
ITl LInei Me, WM; 

Apem. AwlAaUaHUiLtRT 

Tim. Ay, TaocaB it loat litr thai. 

The word Omugh luu perpleied the comnwDtttoi^ and 

*tl«mpt hai CTen been made to prove that It meana 

iw or htatiitt; but iurely It la only knottier ttroke at 

laf on the put ol TImoD:— J do hate s medlar, even 



m Unet M>-SU: mrt thou 
vratk wouid eonfouad thee, tnul 
conquetC <i/ th)i /uiy—Tbo UQicD: 
ferocity. The beat coninienE on 



le foUow 



KQurfootod Beaita. ed. less.ii UT(1it ad. pub. leOT): " He 
la u enamy to the llnna, vharatora at aoon aa ever * lion 
aaeth a unicorn, he runneth to a tree tor aaccour. that ao 
whan the uolcom makaUi force at him. ha may not only 
avoid hia horn, but aleo dettroy him; lor the unicorn In the 
aviftneu of hla coaraa rtuineth a^lnat the trae, whatein 
hit tharp horn ttlclteth fatt. then when the lion laeth 
the UDlcom laiUned by the horn, without alt danger be 
lallath upua him and kllleth him. TbcH tblngi are ra- 



ported by the king of (Ethiopia, In an Hebrew epKtle unto 


181, Line *!S: lei IAa«*a / mu.t yBU 


thaBlahopofRome." 


Idlum-to give tbanka, compare All't U 


m. Unet S4S, »14: i«r( lAou n B»H, (Am ucmfdil bt 


-I roMhbuno thankafor't." Steeventti 


HWdbs Iht HnRsK.— "There lialiu a mortal) hatred tw- 




twlit a hone and a beara. tor ther know oua another at tha 


189. Llnea430, tSl: 


flrtt tight; and prepare to combat, which they rather act 




by pollcle than by atrenglh; tliE beare falling Oat on hli 


/BU>iirKPpr«/<»io.«.. 


backf, the hortae leaping oui-r the bear, whlih pnUelh at 


TheautlthelliltnJcouiaelwtweeu bouadle 


hit EUtt with her tnrc-foet nallea, and It by the heelai of 


unlimited thieving goei .,n even in prnfeai 


the horaaa wounded to death. If he alrlka the beam vpon 


not, Ilka you. make an open trade of atealln 


Uahead"(TopaeU.p.3£) 


war.lly raiiiectalde and under rettralnt 



ilghtl; eiptalna thli ai an allualon to tha Tnrklah policy. 
Id accordance wlUi which the Urat act of the tnitao on 
auccaeding to the throne w» to put all hla broUian to 
death. Thlt cnttom la again alluded to In II. Hancy IV. 



ITA Line KG: Yondrr wmrt a poaf and (t painter. — 
But they do not appear upon the acena till the beglnnliv 
Dl the nciC act. that It, alter Tlnion hat baen Tltllcd both 
by the Banditti and by navlnt. Varloui conjecturat 
have bean made to account for thlt anomaly; Bltaon 
auppotet tbat the play waa abridged for repreien tattoo, 
and that all between thlt paaaageandtbeeutiaDceof tha 
n»t and Painter being omitted, thaia wordt wen pM 
Into the mouth of Apemantu* to Introduce them, and that 
when the play wat printed (or the FoUo the InterpoUtloa 
wai unnoticed. I am Inclined to think that we bare 
here one of the Indlcatloni that Shakcipeare wat wurUnf 
un an older play. In thlaplay Uie Puatand Patctetpro. 
bably made their entrance at thli point; Shakeapean 
altered thli arrange meat, but never made a final revlaloo, 
and accldenlally left thla speech of Apemantu* uncor- 
rected. It la leea natural to loppoee that the pair, when 
at laat tbey do appeiir, had been hunting lor Tlmon'a 
abode durlug the whole Interval alter baring been as n»ar 
it, or that tbey bad gone back to Alheui on catching 
tight ol Apemautui, and come out agala 

ITT. Line 373: / BWUUND (o lee llui.-So the word la 
tpelt In V. 3 and F. 4; V. 1 and F. S have ewuend. 

ITS Line 383: Tnil natanl SON awl aing.— F. 1 baa 
"Sunite andjSn." 

ITS. Una 386: Tim. Voe lAinjn lite nunf Eat, Timtti. 
and oiAor THUI.— The I\)llaa preOi Ape. to thtt Una; 
Hanmer Brat aialgned It to Tlmon. For than tha Follot 
liaie then; corrected by BoWB. 

ISO. Une41S: I'aur preafeit vanl ii, yov teanf nucA <^ 
NUT.— Hiuinicr conjectured, "much of wen;" a nadlng 
which i> adopted by Singer. Bolfe, and otbeta: It ceitatnlj 
hat In Ita favour the preceding Hue " mei that much do 



ACT IV. Soma 3. 



NOTES TO TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT V. Soen« 1. 



US. Line 437: Do VILLANT, do, nnee uou PROTEST to do 't 
-¥. 1 hM Villains; corrected by Rowe. For protft Theo- 
bald fabetitttted prt^feu, which ii adopted by Malone, 
ind is certainly a very natural correction, though Dyce 
caUi it rery unneceesary. 

IM. Lines 442. 443: 

The $ea*ta thief, whote liqtad turge ruoivu 
The moon into taXt lean, 

Shakespeare knew that the moon was the cause of the 
tides, and in that respect the liquid surge, that is, the 
waves of the sea, rising one upon another, in the progress 
of the tide, may be said to "resolve the moon into salt 
tsars:" the moon, as the poet chooses to state the matter, 
kwing some part of her humidity, and the accretion to 
the sea in consequence of her tears being the cause of 
the liquid turge. Add to tliis the popular notion, yet 
prevailing, of the moon's influence on the weather; which, 
together with what has been already stated, probably in- 
dnced our author here and in other places to allude to 
the watery quality of that planet (Malone). Capell's note 
is well worth quoting here: "There cannot be a doubt 
among schollars, but that Anacreon was thought of in 
pnming Timon's examplea for encouraging thievery; the 
ode is of such celebrity, with Jolly fellows especially, 
that it could not escape Jonson and other members of the 
dab at the Devil, and there Shakespeare had it" The 
ode in question is the 2l8t (Poeta) Lyric! Oneci, ed. Bergk, 
1M8^ p. 1067): the following is a literal translation: "The 
dark earth drinks, and the trees drink the earth: the 
MS drinks the air, and the sun the sea, and the moon the 
nn:— why quarrel with me my friends, if I too am fain to 
drink?" That an English translation existed in Shake- 
q)eare's time is clear from Puttenham, Arte of Poesie 
(UtOX bk. ilL c. xxiL p. 259, ed. Arber, quoted by Farmer: 
"Another [according to Steevens one John Southern] of 
reasonable good facilitie in translation finding certaine 
of the hymnes of Pyndarut and of Anacreons odes . . . 
very well translated by Jiouneard the French Poet . . . 
comes our minion and translates the same out of French 
into English." 

Itt. Line 447: Hats uneheck'd tht^fL—Bo Pope. F. 1 
has Ha'i. 

186. Line 451: iteal no leee/or (Ail.— So the Globe; the 
Folios omit tut; Rowe inserted not. 

187. Lines 472, 478: 

How rarely doet it meet with thit time '» guise. 
When man wae wiih'd to love his enemies! 

That is, how admirably does the injunction to love one's 
enemies accord with the fashion of the times I (Rolfe). 
Warburton notices the anachronism: "he forgets his 
Pigan system here again." 

188. Lines 474, 475: 

Grant I may ever love, and rather woo 

Those that would miachief me Uuin thoee that do! 

The sense is, " Let me rather woo or caress those that 
iMwId mischief, that prt^fess to mean me mischief, than 
those that really do me mischief, under false professions 
of kindness. ** The Spaniards, I think, have this proverb: 
"Defend me ttom my friends, and from my enemies I 



will defend myself." This proverb is a sufficient com- 
ment on the passage (Johnson). 

189. Line 481: TAen, if thou orakt'st thou'rt a man. 
—So Capell: F. 1 has "Then, if thou grunt'et, th'art a 



190. Line 499: It almost turns my danoxrous nature 
WILD.— Dangerous here I take to mean unbalanced, un- 
certain, liable to violent emotions of any kind: "such 
fidelity as yours," Timon would say, "after all the hypo- 
crisy and baseness which I have experienced, almost de. 
prives me of reason." Since writing this note I see that 
Drake (Shakespeare and his Times, voL li. p. 449, note) 
takes the same view: "I conceive that by dangerous na- 
ture in this passage is meant a nature, from acute sensi- 
bility and sudden misfortune, liable to be overpowered, 
to be thrown off its poize, and to suffer from mental 
derangement" Most editors, including even the Globe, 
adopt Warburton's emendation mHd{i.e. almost reconcOes 
me again to mankind), which is comparatively tame. 

ACT V. Scene 1. 

191.— Capell was the first who made the division be- 
tween the fourth and fifth acts here. Previous editors, 
following Rowe, bad put it after Exeunt Baiiditti at iv. 
3. 408, and they made Timon go off at the close of his 
speech, line 453; but ^ere is no authority for this in the 
Folio, while at line 543 it has the stage-direction Exit 
After the Actus Primus. Semtui Prima, at the beginning 
of the play, the Folio has no further division into acts or 
scenes. 

192. Lines 6, 7: PHRTNIA atid TiM ANDRA. — Here spelt 
in F. 1 Phrinica and Timandylo. 

193. Lines 12, 13: you shall see him a palm in Athens 
a^fn.— Steevens quotes Psalm xciL 12, "The righteous 
shall fiourish like the palm-tree." 

194. Line 28: the l>XKD of satino is quits otU tf use.— 

Compare Hamlet, L 8. 24-27: 

Then if he says he loves you. 
It fits your wisdom so far to believe it 
As he in his particular act and place 
May give his sttyiMjjr deed. 

195. Line 31: Stage-direction.— Timon comes from his 
cave, behind.— The Folio has Enter Timon from his Caue. 

196. Line 55: To thee be worship I— So Rowe; F. 1 has 
worshipL 

197. Line 59: Have I once liv'd to see two honest ment— 
Schmidt explains: " Have I lived indeed [to see two honest 
men] and must I believe it?" 

198. Line 74: Ay, you're honest XXK.— So Rowe; F. 1 
has man. 

199. Line 99: Know his gross patchert. — Compare 
Troilus and Cressida, 11. 3. 77, 78: " Here is such patehery, 
such Juggling, and such knavery I" 

200. Lines 109-111: 

Vou that way, and you this,— but two in company: 
Each man apart, all single and alone, 
Yet an areh-vUlain keeps him company. 

69 



ACT V. Soene 1. 



NOTES TO TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT V. Soen« 1. 



The flnt line is expUined by the two following: You go 
that w«y and you this, bat each of you will be two in 
company, for each of you will take an arch-rillain with 
you, namely himielf . F. 1 print* apart in two worda. 

201. Unes 11(5, 117: 

You have teork/or tne, there '« paymetU: hence ! — 
[To the Poet] You are an alehemitt, make gold of thai. 

Most, if not all editors, prefix [To the Pain.] to the first 
of these lines, and Malone, followed by Rolfe and others, 
inserted done before worlr. Hanmer printed tpork % bat 
this is Inadmissible, for according to Schmidt the impf. 
and part is always wrought in Shakespeare. The Globe 
prints: 

[ Tfi Pai'rUtr] You have work'il for me; there *t payment for you : 
hence ! 

The Folio has no prefix to either line. I would suggest 
that emendation is unnecessary if we take the first line to 
be addressed to the pair, and the work which they have 
for Timon to refer to their ridding these villains from 
their companies, lines 104-106; then the second line will 
be addressed to the Poet, who is the last of the two in 
making his escape, and is told to employ the alchemy of 
his poetry on turning Timon's blows and missiles into 
gold. 

202. Line 119: It is IN vain.— So F. 3; F. 1 and F. 2 omit 
in. 

203. Line 129: And CHAHCE it ae it may— So ¥. 2; F. 1 
has ehanc'd. 

204 Line 134: Thou tun, that COMFORT'ST. &um/— So 
Pope. F. 1 has eomforte, which may well be what Shake- 
speare wrote. 

205. Lines 186-137: 

and each/aUe 

Be at a canthkrizino to the root o' the tongue, 
Contuming it with spiking ! 

Schmidt has: " Cantherize, to raise blisters as with can- 
tharides," but as each true word Is to raise a blister, the 
effect of each falee one ought to be something stronger, 
especially as the tongue is to be consumed: cantherixing 
is therefore probably the same as eauteriging, which was 
Aubstituted by Pope and printed by most editors. The 
Cambridge editors say: " The word eanteriitynge for cau- 
terizing is found very frequently in an old surgical work, 
printed in 1641, of which the title is, The gueetyonary of 
Cyntrgyens. . . . The instrument with which the 
operation is performed is in the same book called a eantere. 
The form of the word may have been suggested by the 
false analogy of canteridet, tliat is, cantharides, which 
occurs in the same chapter." 

206. Lines 148-161: 

Which now the public body, — which doth eeldom 
Play the reeanter,— feeling in iUelf 
A lack of Titnon'u aid, hath SXNSB withal 
Ofn own FALL, reittraining aid to Tiinon. 

For " Which now" Hanmer substituted "And now," but 
tlie irregularity in construction is not uncommon; com- 
pare V. 2. 6-9: 

I met a courier, one mine ancient friend ; 
Whom, though in general part we were oppos'd, 



Yet our old love made a particular force. 
And made us speak like friends. 

The meaning is: The senate, which seldom confesses 
itself to be in the wrong, feeling the want of Timon's aid, 
is sensible of its fault in withholding aid to Timon. For 
fall in this sense of a fall from virtue, fault, compare 
Henry V. U. 2. 13S-140: 

And thus thyfaU hath left a kind of blot. 

To mark the full^raught man and best indu'd 

With some suspicion ; 

and Bichard IIL iU. 7. 96, 97: 

Two props of virtue for a Christian prince. 
To suy him from tht/a/i of vanity. 

Capell, followed by Dyce and the Globe, conjectured /aif, 

a word which would have the same meaning; compare 

Cymbeline. ilL 4. 66. 66: 

Goodly and gallant shall be false and peijnr'd 
From thy great/ail. 

For the old form of the possessive it, see Abbott, | 228. 
For tenee, the reading of Bowe, who spells »ence, F. 1 has 
tinoe. 

207. Lines 163. 164: 
Together with a recompense more fruitful 
Than their offence can weigh down by the dram. 

A recompense that shall more than counterpoise their 
offences, though weighed with the most scrupulous exact- 
ness (Monck MasonX 

206. Line 186: The REVEREND'ST throat— ¥. 1 has '*The 
reuerends throat;" compare note 203. 

209. Line 186: To the protection qf the PROSPKRors god*. 
— ¥oT proeperoua in an active sense compare Othello, I S. 
246: 

To my unfolding lend your frosftrpus ear. 

210. Line 202: their acA^«.— See note 31 on L 1. 267. 

211. Lhies 208-216: 1 have a tree, whichgrowt here in my 
eloee, dtc— " It is reported of him also, that this Timon on 
a time (the people being assembled in the market place 
about dispatch of some affaires) got vp into the pulpit for 
Orations, where the Oratours commonly vse to speake 
vnto the people: and silence being made, euery man 
listening to heare what he would say, because it was a 
wonder to see him in that place: at length he began to 
speak in this manner: My Lords of Athens I haue a litle 
yard at my house where there groweth a flgge tree, on the 
which many citizens haue hanged themselues: and be- 
cause I mesne to make some building on the place, I 
thought good to let you all vnderstand it, that before the 
flgge tree be cut downe if any of you be desperate; you 
may there in time go hang your seines" (North's Plutarch, 
Life of Antonius, c. 88). 

212. Lines 218-221: 

Timon fuith made his everUutir^ maneion 
Upon the BBACUKl) verge of the salt /load; 
Who otiee a day with Au embotted froth 
The turbuleiU turgt ehall cover. 

" For like as he liued a beastly and chorlish life, euen so 
he required to haue his funerall done after that maner. 
By his last will, he ordeined himself to be interred vpon 
the sea shore, that the wanes and surges might beate and 



70 



ACT V. Seene 1. 



NOTES TO TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT V. Scene 4. 



Tex* hit dead carcM " (Pointer, FaUce of FleMure, Novel 
S8X For beaek^d, ie. formed by a beach, compare Mid- 
Nimmer Night's Dream, iL 1. 85: 

Or in the btadud maiKcnt of the siea. 

SIS. Line 22S: Lip9» let SOUB vmrdt go by, and language 
rad.— So Kowe; the Folios have "/oure words." Sidney 
Wslktf, with some probability, conjectured your. 

ACT V. SCKNB 2. 

214. Lines 7-9: 

Whom, though in general part we toere oppot'd. 
Yet our old love made a particular /oree. 
And made ut tpeak like/riende. 

See note 206 on ▼. L 148-161. Here again Hanmer substi- 

tnted And for the relative. In general part is opposed to 

a particular /oree,—M regards the common cause, public 

aflsiri, they were opponents, nevertheless their old friend- 

ihip created for the nonce a force or party of its own, and 

enabled them to converse lilce friends. Particular in this 

KBie of private, perianal, is very common; compare 

Bsmlet, i. 8. 24-27: 

Then if he says he loves you, 

It fits your wisdom so far to believe it 

As he in Y^/artiatiar act an<f place 

May f^re his saying deed. 

In thus explaining "a particular force" I have followed 
Schmidt Many readers will, however, probably prefer 
the common interpretation, viz. "a special efficacy." 
Hsnmer, followed by Dyce and Rolfe, printed **had a 
particular force." 

ACT V. ScENK 3. 

215. Lines 1-10: By all deecription Una ahould be the 
l^ece, Ac.— The great difficulty in this scene is the ques- 
tion whether the third and fourth lines, " Timon is dead," 
Ac., are an inscription read by the soldier, or his own 
vordiL I decidedly prefer the former view, and under- 
itand the passage as follows:— the soldier arriving at 
llmon's cave and receiving no answer to his challenge, 
bu his attention arrested at the entrance by the follow- 
ing inscription: 

Timon is dead, who hath outstretch'd his span : 
Some beast read this ; there doe« not Hve a man. 

nUs he reads, and with the natural exclamation "Dead, 
Mre," turns to the beach and discovers the tomb inscribed 
vith characters which he is unable to decipher, and 
accordingly has recourse to the somewhat clumsy expe- 
dient of taking the impression in wax. The supposition 
of two inscriptions, one on the cave and the other on the 
tomb, which this interpretation involves, is the chief 
objection to it, and the device must be admitted to be an 
awkward one, but the lines on the cave are quite in 
Timon's misanthropical vein, " let some beast, human or 
other, read this notice of my death, for nothing worthy 
of being called a man any longer exists to read it" This 
is mbstantially Staunton's view of the passage, except 
that he takes read thie to refer to the inscription on the 
tomb, and not to the lines themselves at the entrance of 
the cave. Most editors, however, very unnaturally as it 
iccms to me, take the two lines to be a reflection and 
exclamation on the part of the soldier ; " The tomb he 



sees," says Johnson, "and the inscription upon It, which 
not being able to read, and finding none to read it for 
him, he exclaims peevishly, 'Some beast read this,' for it 
must be read, and in this place it cannot be read by man." 
Theobald printed Warburton's suggestion, "Some beast 
rear'd this; here does not," «fcc., which was adopted by 
Capell and Dyce, and (though retaining there) by Malone 
and the Globe. Rltson explains this reading as follows: 
"What can this heap of earth bef (says the Soldier), 
Timon is certainly dead: some beast most have erected 
this, for here does not live a man to do it." 

ACT V. SCKKE 4. 

216. Lines 4, 6: 

making your wiUt 

The ecope qf justice; 

ie. the space within which justice had free play; Justice 
was Just what they chose it to be, and no more; compare 
Hamlet, iii. 2. 229: 

An anchor's cheer in prison be my seo/et 

(i.e. the limits to which my ambition is boundedX 

217. Line 7: Have wander' d with our traahsrs'd artne. — 
With our arms crossed or folded in submission. The ex- 
pression "traverse lines," i.e. cross lines, occurs in Cart- 
wright's Poems, 1051. See Nares. 

218. Line 8: luna the time it yttaA.— Compare Hamlet, 
ML 3. 80, 81: 

He took my father i^ossly, full of bread ; 

With all his crimes broad blown, asjtusk as May; 

and Antony and Cleopatra, i. 4. 51, 52 : 

the borders maritime 
Lack blood to think on 't, and ^ush youth revolt. 

219. Lines 16-18: 

to give thy rages balm. 

To wipe out our IMQRATITUDX with loves 
Above THEIR quantity. 

Warburton referred their to rages, Malone to griefs in 
line 14. But Shakespeare is not so precise as his com- 
mentators, and it may refer to either or both. Capell 
settled the question by printing ingratitudes. 

220. Lines 23, 24: 

THKIR hands from whom 

You have reeeiv'd your grikps; 

their is misprinted rheir in F. 1; gritfs is Theobald's cor- 
rection for greefe of F. 1. 

221. Lines 28. 29: 

Shame that they untited cunning, in excess 
Hath broke their hearts. 

Shame in excess {i.e. extremity of shame) that they wanted 
canning (i. e. that they were not wise enough not to banish 
you) hath broke their hearts (TheobaldX 

222. Line 37: On those that are, RBVIK0I8.— So Steeveos; 
F. 1 has Reuenge. 

228. Line 44: But kill not ALL TOGETHER. —So F. 3; F. 1 
has altogether: F. 2 al together. 

224. Line 47: Against our rampir'D gaUs.—Rampire is 
another form of rampart Both forms were used either 

71 



ACT V. Soene 4. 



NOTES TO TIMON OF ATHENS. 



ACT V. Sjcene 4. 



as noun or verb. Schmidt qaotet Lodge's SottUnd (p. 08, 
ed. H. Morley) : " Boiader tampered up the house.** Nvres 
gives the following instance from Holinshed, vol ii. ft. S 0, 
col. 2, b: "And so deeply ditched and rampired their 
campe about— that it was," Ac. 

22S. line 66: Dksoxnd, and open ^our uneharffed porte. 
—So F. 2; F. 1 has D^end^ a manifest error; see line 64. 

aS6. Lines 02, 6S: 

But shaU be rbhder'd to your puUie lata 
At heavieet atiever. 

Rendei'd was suggested by Lord Chedworth (18U6X and is 
adopted by Dyce, the Olobe, and others. F. 1 has " reme- 
died to," Ac, which Schmidt interprete, "it shall be re- 
dressed acccmling to your laws;" not very successfully, 
but with less violence to common-sense than Malone, who 
understood it to mean, " it shall be redressed at heaviest 
answer to your laws. " F. 2, F. 3, and F. 4 have remedied by. 

227. Lines 70^73: Here liee a wretched eoree, &c.— " He 
died in the citie of Hales, and was buried vpon the sea 
side. Now it chaunced so, that the sea getting in, it 
compassed his tombe round about, that no man could 
come to it: and vpon the same was written this Epitaph: 

Here lyee a wretched eoree^ qf wretched toule bereft: 
Seeke not my name: a plaffue eontuine you wicked wretches 
Uft. 

It is reported that Timon himselfe, when he lined, made 
this Epitaph: for that which is commonly rehearsed, was 
not his, but made by the Poet Callimachus: 



Here lye I Ti$non, who tUiuve all liuing men did hate: 
Pane fry, and eurte thyJUl: but paeee, and atay not here 
thy gate," —North's Plutarch, c. 8& 

The former epitaph appears as follows in Painter: 
My wretched cattfe dayee. 

Expired now and paet: 
My carren corpa intered here, 

le/aete in grounde: 
In waltring ufaueeqfawU- 

ling sea, by eurgee east. 
My namA \f thou deeire^ 

The gode thee doe confoundie. 

It can only be by an oversight that both the epitaphs 
from North's Plutarch have been left in the text; it will 
be seen that they are copied verbatim with the change of 
wretches to eaitiffs (line 71), perhaps suggested, as Malone 
remarks, by Painter's version. Kolfe says: "They (the 
two epitaphs] are inconsistent with each other, and 
Shakespeare cannot have meant to use more than one of 
them. He seems to have written both in the MS. when 
hesitating between them, and afterwards to have neglected 
to strike one out" 

228. Line 70: Scomtlet otir braimtjlow. — Steevens quotes 
Sir Gyles Ooosecappe (1000): "I shed not the tearee of my 
Briyne, but the teares of my soule" (act iL sc. 1; BuUen's 
Old Plays, vol. iiL p. 34); and 

But he from roclu that fountains can command. 
Cannot yet stay ihe/euntatMs ^his brain. 

—Drayton, The Miracles of Moses. 



WORDS OCCURRING ONLY IN TIMON OF ATHENS. 

Note.— The addition of sub., adj., verb, adv. in brackets immediately after a word indicates that the word is 

used as a substantive, adjective, verb, or adverb only in the passage or passages cited. 

The compound words marked with an asterisk (*) are printed as two separate words in F. 1. 



Act Sc Line 
*AII-shunned.. iv. 2 14 

ApperU i. 2 32 

Approachers . . iv. 8 210 

Ardent iii. 3 34 

Ar^[umenti iL 2 187 

Backwardly . . . iii. 8 18 

Balsam iiL 6 110 

Black-cornered v. 1 47 

Blains. iv. 1 28 

Bountifully.... iiL 2 59 

Briber ilL 6 01 

Bridges iv. 8 168 

Caked iL 2 226 

Cantherizing . . v. 1 130 

Carper iv. 8 209 

Castigate iv. 8 240 

1— contents; frequently used 
in other ieiftHt 

S — the bony part of the none ; 
elsewhere used in its onlinary 
sense. 



Caudle (verb).. 

Close* (sub. X.. 

Cock* 

*Cold-moving.. 
Composture . . . 
Conceptions . . . 
Conditioned* .. 
Confectionary.. 
Confluence .... 

Contentless 

Corporate 

Covetously 

Crossed* 

Crust (verb).... 
*Curled-pate .. 



Act He, 

iv. 8 

V. 1 

tL 2 

iL 2 

iv. 8 

iv. 3 



iv. 

iv. 

L 



iv. 

L 
iiL 



Line 
220 
208 

in 

221 



3 
3 

1 



iv. 8 
iL 2 



3 
2 




ir. 8 



187 
633 
200 



246 
218 
408 
108 
109 
100 



DecimaUou.... 
Dedication ? . . . 

Defller 

Detention 

Dialogue* (verb) 

Dich 

Distasteful .... 
Dividant 



62 
73 



42 ^[Jroplets V 



Date-broke.... ii. 2 38 



s— enclosure; used in other 
Mnses. 

4 _a spout; used in other 
seasM. 5 — limited. 

*' •* fuminhed with money. 

72 



Drugs * (sub.). 

Enforcedly.. . 

Ensear , 

Exceptless . . . 
Excrement 10. 



Act 8c. Line 

V. 4 31 

L 1 19 

iv. 8 888 

U. 2 30 

iL 2 

i. 2 

ii. 2 220 

iv. 3 6 

4 70 

iv. 8 264 

iv. 8 241 

iv. 8 187 

iv. 3 602 

iv. 8 446 



Exhaust 



' — something devoted or in- 
scribed ; elsewhere used twice in 
other senses. 

* liorer'H Complaint, 132. 

* — drudK«0 ? elM>where used in 
its onlinary Mnse. 

lo _ alvine discharges ; ■■ hair, 
beard, in other paasagei. 



Act 8c Line 
iv. 3 119 



*Fallhig-from.. iv. 8 402 

Fang (verb).... iv. 3 23 

*Fast-lost. iL 2 180 

^Feast-won.... ii. 2 180 

Foals (verb).. . . ii. 1 9 

Foam" (sub.).. 4*^* ? ^"^ 

^ ' ( T. 1 63 

l-Yagile V. 1 204 

Free-hearted., iii. 1 lu 



Glass-faced.... 
Gluttonous.... 



L 1 68 

iiL 4 62 

iv. 3 380 

1 222 

4 07 

Greases (verb) . iv. 3 106 



Grave-stone".. -j v. 

V V. 



11 Lucrece, 1441. 

19 In the three instances wbems 
this word occurs, F.l prints pms 
siows, yr ttw stoiM , i 



WORDS PECULIAR TO TIMON OF ATHENS. 



H|lf-capt 

"Hani (nbi) 

ffighvioed 

Hinge (verb). . . 

Hipii 

*Hoiiett-iuitared 

lodlipoeiUon.. 

lDf«cted>(«iJ) 
logeniotulj.. . . 

loKalpture . . . 

^Titing(fttb.). 

Kind (adv.).... 
Kiog4d]ler.... 



Act 8c. Line 

IL 2 221 

V. 4 06 

iv. 8 100 

iv. 3 211 

It. 3 422 

T. 1 89 



IL 

iv. 

iL 

▼ 
UL 

L 

It. 



Ug(uib.) Ul. 

Urge-handed . iv. 

I«ch V. 

Uqnodflh iv. 

Uviogi(sab.)L. V. 

*loDg-fince-dne iL 



Xade-ap 

JUW 

MaotUugbter. 
Kirtiled 



XitUconifl . . . 
•Mflk.p»pt.... 
^Mioate-Jacks 
M»*(verb).,. 



V. 

iv. 
iiL 
iv. 
Iv. 



2 139 

3 202 
2 230 

4 67 
6 11 



2 
3 

6 
1 

4 



225 
382 



1 101 

3 371 

6 27 

3 191 

3 422 
iv. 3 

iii. 6 107 

iv. 3 147 



'■■ fruit o( the dog-roM. 

: LuTer"! CompUint, 3SS. 

'-life; LoTer't Complaint, 
^ Cnd ebewbere in ita ordi- 
BUTicoiet. 

* *to liiik in mud. 



Misonthrupoa.. 

^begot 

Miachief (verb) 
Monatrouaneaa 

Mountant 

Mouth-frienda. 

Xight-reat 

Xutiiment 



Act 8c Line 

iv. 3 53 

iii. 5 20 

iv. 3 476 

iiL 2 79 

iv. 3 185 

iiL 6 90 



iv. 1 
iiL 1 



Oathable 

Oozea (verb) . . 
OpoleDcy 



Page (verb) .. . 

Paaaive •. ., 

90 [Pencilled* 

ILj Tenurioiia 

84 Perioda(verb). 
8 104 Plough-tom . . 

1 190 Pregnantly.... 

2 39 Procreation.. . . 



Rampired 

Recanter 

Recoverable .. 
Regardfully.. . . 

Regular 

eliancea 

Repugnancy .. 
Respectively . . 

Rioter 

Roofs* 



"^''Seliani 



V. 4 

V. 1 

iiL 4 

iv. 3 

V. 4 



U. 
UL 
iii. 
iiL 
iv. 



1 
5 
1 
5 
3 



17 
61 



iv. 3 135 

L 1 21 

v. 1 38 

iv. 8 224 

iv. 8 254 

L 1 159 

iv. 3 02 

L 1 00 

iv. 3 103 

L 1 02 

iv. 3 4 



47 
140 
13 
81 
61 



45 

8 

68 

144 



ft Lucrece, 1487. 

c — akalla; oied frequently in 
other lenm. 



Act 8c. Line 
Rose-cheeked 7 iv. 3 86 

Rot(aQb.) iv. 3 64 

Rotber iv. 3 12 



Sacrificial L 1 81 

Sermon (verb) . iL 2 181 

e-beggar iv. 8 273 

Shudders (sub.) iv. 8 137 

Skip (verb tr.). iv. 3 110 

Slave-like iv. 3 

Softness v. 1 

Solidares iiL 1 

Sorrowed v. 1 

*Sour-cold Iv. 3 

SpUth IL 2 

Spitfd-house .. iv. 3 

^■Steepy* L 1 

Straggling *.. . . v. 1 

SuiUble iii. 6 

Sweep (sub.). . . L 2 

Tendance 10.... i. i 

Throughout (adv. ) v. 1 

Towardly iiL 1 

Tract" L 1 

Traversed v. 4 

Trenchant iv. 3 

ncher-friends iii. 



S^-fre 



205 

86 

46 

152 

230 

160 

30 

75 

7 

02 

137 



Unagreeable. . . iL 

Unaptness. ii. 

Unbolti« L 

Uncharged 1* .. v. 

Unchecked 1*.. iv. 

Undue 1. 

■Uncover. UL 

I'liftioua iv. 

Unpeaceable . . L 

Unremovably.. v. 

Untirable. L 

Unwisely".... IL 

jilL 

■ ■ (iv. 



212 

37 

50 

7 

115 

6 106 



7 Venus and Adonii, S. 
s Bonnet UiiL 5. 
* Lucrece, 438. 

10 _ persona attending; used — 
care, attention, in L 1. 87; Cymb. 
T. B. 53; Henry VIII. Hi 2. 148. 

11 — trace, track. 



Truatersis ., 
Try(su^t). 
Tub-fasti*... 



Act 8c Line 

iv. 1 10 

v. 1 11 

iv. 8 87 



Usuring 



2 41 

2 140 
1 51 
4 56 

3 447 
1 168 
6 06 
3 106 
1 280 

227 
11 
183 
110 
516 



Voiced" iv. 8 81 



80-^ 



Wappened iv. 3 38 

Wiirds" lU. 3 88 

Whittle v. 1 183 

•Window-bars . iv. 3 116 

Wondroualy . . . ilL 4 71 

Wrench (aub). IL 2 218 

13 ..creditors. 

13 i>rinted as one word in F. 1. 

14 — to rmrenl ; — to unfasten, 
Troiltts, ir. 3. S. 

lA— iinaaaailed. 

15 _ unrestrained; — uncontra- 
dicted, in Mer. of Ven. iii. 1. S. 

n Lucrece, lo. 
is _ prochiimed. 
i» Of a door-lock ; Lucrace, SuS; 
Sonnet xlviii. 4. 



ORIGINAL EMENDATIONS ADOPTED. 

Noue. 



ORIGINAL EMENDATIONS SUGGESTED. 

Note 64. IL 1. 35: And have ths debts in. Cornel 
66. U. 2. 5, 0: 



*• 



never mind 
Was EVER 90 unwiie, to be 90 kind. 

122. ilL a 80: The rett qf MT FRIENDS, gods,— the 
senators qf Athens, together with the common 
lag qf people,— what is amiss in Viein, you 
gods, make suittUde/or destruction. 



73 



CYMBELINE. 



NOTES AND INTRODUCTION BY 
H. A. EVANS. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS 

Ctmbeline, king of Britain. 

Cloten, son to the Queen by a former husband. 

PosTHUMUS Leonatus, a gentleman, husband to Imogen. 

Belarius, a banished lord, disguised under the name of Morgan. 

GuiDERius, ) sons to Cymbeline, disguised under the names of Polydore 

Arviragus, J and Cadwal, supposed sons to Morgan. 

Philario, friend to Posthumus,! ^ ,. 

/-Italians. 
Iachimo, friend to Philario, j 

A French Gentleman, friend to Philario. 

C'aius Lucius, general of the Roman forces. 

A Roman Captain. 

Two British Captains. 

PisANio, servant to Posthumus. 

Cornelius, a physician. 

Two Lords of Cymbeline's court 

Two Gentlemen of the same. 

Two Gaolers. 

Queen, wife to Cymbeline. 

Imogen, daughter to Cymbeline by a former queen. 

Helen, a lady attending on Imogen. 

Lords, Ladies, Roman Senators, Tribunes, a Sootlisayer, a Dutch Gentleman, a Spanish Gentle- 
man, Musicians, Officers, Captains, Soldiers, Messengers, and Attendants. 

Apparitiona 



Scene — Sometimes in Britain, sometimes in Italy. 



Historic Period: Latter (>art of the first century B.a 



TIME OF ACTION (accordmg to Daniel). 
Twelve days, with intervals. 



Dayl: Act J. Scenea 1-3. — Interral; PosthumuH's 

journey to Rome. 
Day 2: Act L Scene 4 — Interval; lachimo's jour- 
ney to Britain. 
Day 3: Act I. Scenes 5 and 6; Act II. Scene 1 and 

part of Scene 2. 
Day 4: Act II. Scene 2, in part, and Scene 3; 

Act III. Scene 1. — Interval; lachimo'if 

return journey to Rome. 
Day 5: Act II. Scenes 4 and 5. — Interval; time for 

Poethumus's letters from Rome to arrive 

in Britain. 
Between Days 5 and 6: Act III. Scene 7. 

76 



Day 6 : Act III. Scenes 2 and 3. — Interval, including 
one clear day; Imogen and Piaamo jour- 
ney to Wales. 

Day 7 : Act III. Scene 4. — Interval, including one 
clear day ; Pisanio returns to court 

Day 8: Act III. Scenes 5 and 6. -^Interval, including 
one clear day ; Cloten journeys to Waleft. 

Day 9 : Act IV. Scones 1 and 2. — Interval, a few 
days perhaps. 

Day 10 : Act IV. Scene 3. 

Day 11 : Act IV. Scene 4. 

Day 12 : Act V. Scenes 1-5. 



CYMBELINE. 



INTRODUCTION. 



LITERARY HISTORY. 

Cymbeline was first printed in the Folio, 
but our earliest mention of the play occurs in 
the MS. of Dr. Simon Forman, the astrologer, 
already quoted by Mr. Symons in his Intro- 
duction to Macbeth. Forman witnessed a 
performance of Macl)eth on April 20th, 1610, 
aud cue of The Winter's Tale (the only other 
Shakespearian drama mentioned by him) on 
May 15th, 1611, both at tlie Globe Theatre, 
but be gives no date for the perfoimance of 
Cymbeline; it cannot, however, be later than 
JHfptemWr, 1611, tlie date of his death. The 
following is his account: — " Of Cimhalin King 
y/ England. — Remember also the storri of 
C>Tubaliu, King of England in Lucius tyme; 
howe Lucius cam from Octavus Cesar for tri- 
but, and being denie<i, after sent Lucius with 
agreate armi of souldiars, who landed at Mil- 
ford Haven, and affter wer vanquished by 
Oinibaliu, and Lucius taken prisoner; and all 
by means of three outlawes, of the which two 
'^f them were the sonns of Cimlxdin, stolen 
•wni him when they were but two yers old 
^y an old man whom CJymbalin banished, and 
he kept them as liis own somis twenty yers 
*ith him in a cave; and howe of [] one] of 
^em alewe Clotan, that was the queiis sonn, 
goinge to Milford Haven to sek the love of 
Innogeu, the kinges daughter, whom [sic] he 
had banished also for lovinge his daughter; 
>ftd howe the Italian that cam from her love 
conveie«l himself into a cheste, and said yt 
waa a chest of plate sent from her love and 
others to be presented to the kiuge; and in 
the deepest of the night, she being aslei)e, he 
opened tlie cheste, and came forth of yt, and 
vewed her in her bed, and the markes of her 
t<><Jy, and toke awai her braslet, and after 
accused her of adultery to her love, &c., and 
iu theud howe he came with the Komains into 



England, and was taken prisoner, and after 
reveled to Innogen, who had turned herself 
into mans apparrell, and fled to mete her love 
at Milford Haven, and chanchsed to fall on 
the cave in the wodes wher her two brothers 
were; and howe, by eating a sleping dram, 
they thought she had bin deed, and laid her in 
the wodes, aud the body of Cloten by her in 
her loves apparrell that he left behind him; 
and howe she was found by Lucius, etc." 

If Cymbeline was a new play when Forman 
made these notes, it must be assigned to the 
years 1610 or 1611, and this date woidd be in 
accordance with the conclusions drawn from 
internal evidence — considerations, that is, of 
style and metre — which would bring it 
near to The Winter's Tale and The Temi>est 
It is impossible, in the present state of our 
knowledge, to be more precise, but there 
is a certain looseness of construction about 
the play which undoubtedly gives some 
colour to the theory of a double date advo- 
cate<l by Fleay and Ingleby. According 
to this theory some scenes were written as 
early as 1606 or 1607, and the rest in 1(509 
or 1610, but the two critics differ as to which 
scenes belong to the earlier and which to the 
later date. According to Fleay the part de- 
rived from Holinshed belongs to the earlier 
date, while Ingleby thinks that the earlier- 
written scenes are the bedchamber scene, 
ii. 2; Cymbeline's defiance of the Bomans, 
iii. 1 ; and the whole of act v. except the 
first scene. Knight also, after Coleridge and 
Tieck, believed the play to be a "youthful 
sketch " afterwards elaborated. But after all 
has been said, these theories, like k<> many 
other conjectures of the kind with which the 
Shakespearian student is familiar, fail to rise 
above the rank of unproven, though extremely 
interesting, hyjHitheses. In the present aise 
Fleay^s strongest jnant — indeed almost his 



I i 



CYMBELINE. 



only point — is an inconsistency which he notes 
in the character of Cloten: " In the later ver- 
sion he is a mere fool (see i. 3; ii. 1); but in 
the earlier parts he is by no means deficient 
in manliness, and the lack of his ^counsel' is 
regretted by the King in iv. 3" (Life and 
Work of Shakespeare, p. 246); while Ingleby 
relies partly on certain resemblances to Mac- 
beth,— which, however, need not prove more 
than that for some reason or other, such as a 
reperusal, or a stage revival, which we know 
from Forman did actually take place in 1610, 
this play was fresh in the author's mind at 
the time when he was composing Cymbeline 
(see note 96 on ii. 2); — and partly on the fact 
that lachimo's narrative of the wager in v. 6. 
153, &c., resembles Boccaccio's story rather 
than the account in i. 4 (see note 326 on this 
passage). 

As to the source of the plot, Shakespeare 
has fitted a story of Boccaccio into an his- 
torical framework derived from Holinshed. 
An account of the latter will be found in note 
1 on the Dramatis Persona?: Boccaccio's storv 
is the ninth of the second day of the Decame- 
ron. The following is an outline of it:* — 

A company of Italian merchants meeting at an inn 
in Paris fell one evening after supper to discussing 
their wives whom they had left at home. Three of 
them had but little opinion of the constancy of their 
ladies, but one, Bemabo Lomellini of Genoa, stoutly 
maintained that his wife was proof against all assaults 
and would continue so, however \ox^ ho might be 
absent from her. This excessive confidence on Ber- 
nabo's part was met with derision by a younf? mer- 
chant of Piacenza called Ambrogiuolo, who affirmed 
that had he the opportunity ho would in brief space 
of time bring Bemabo's wife to that which he had 
already gotten of other women. Bemabo offered to 
stake his life upon his wife's honesty, but was per- 
suaded by Ambrogiuolo, who had no lust for his 
blood, to lay five thousand gold florins, against a 
thousand of his, and then after a written agreement 
had been drawn up, Ambrogiuolo departed to Genoa. 
Hero on inquiry he found that all, and more than all 
that Bemabo had told him of Ginovra (for such was 
the lady's name), was true, " wherefore him seemed . 
he was come on a fool's errand." However, he man- 
aged to bribe a poor woman who was a dop>endont 
of Ginevra to bring him in a chest "into the gentle- 
woman's very bedchamber, where, according to the 

1 The quotations are from ^Ir. John Payne's transla- 
Uon. 1880. 

78 



ordinance given her of him, the good woman com- 
mended it to her care for some days as if she had a 
mind to go somewhither. " In the night accordingly, 
when he judged the lady to be asleep, he opened tho 
chest and *' came softly out into the chamber where 
there was a light burning, with whose aid he pro- 
ceeded to observe the ordinance of the place, the 
paintings and every other notable thing that was 
therein and fixed them in his memory." He also 
noted a mole which Ginovra had "under the left pap 
and about which were sundry little hairs as red as 
gold." He then took *'from one of her coffers a 
purse and a night-rail, together with sundry rings 
and girdles, and laying them all up in his chest, re- 
turned thither himself and shut himself up therein ' 
as before; and on this wise he did two nights without 
the lady being ware of ought. On the third day the 
good woman came back for the chest," and Ambro- 
giuolo rewarded her according to his promise, and re- 
turned with all speed to Paris. There he called to- 
gether the merchants and declared that he had won 
the wager; "and to prove this to be tme, he first 
described the fashion of the chamber and the paint- 
ings thereof and after showed the things he had 
brought with him thence, avouching that he had 
them of herself. Bemabo confessed the chamber to 
be as he had said and owned, moreover, that he re- 
cognised the things in (question as being in truth his 
wife's; but said that he might have learned from one 
of the servants of the house the fashion of the cham- 
ber and have gottcTi the things in like manner; " then 
Ambrogiuolo described the mole he had observed on 
Ginevra's breast, and Bemabo, to whom this ** was 
as if he had gotten a knife-thrust in the heart, such 
anguish did he feel," confessed that what he said was 
true, and paid the wager in full. After this Bemabo 
set out for Genoa, and halting at a country house of 
his about a score of miles from tho city, he sent on 
a servant with a letter to his wife, bidding her come 
to him there, at the same time giving secret orders 
to the servant to put her to death on the road. Ac- 
cordingly tho man delivered the letter, and "was 
received with great rejoicing by tho lady, who on the 
morrow took horse with him and set out for their 
country house." At a convenient place on the road 
the man halted and bade her prepare for instant 
death; ho knew not, he said, wherein she hod offended 
her husband, but that his master hod commanded 
him on pain of lianging to put her to death. * * Where- 
upon ([uoth the lady, weeping, * Alack, for God's 
sake, consent not to become the murderer of one 
who hath never wronged thee, to serve another! God 
who knoweth all knoweth that I never did aught for 
which I should receive such a recompense from my 
husband. But let that be; thou may est, on thou 
wilt, at once content God and thy master and me, 
on this wise; to wit, that thou take these my clothes 
and give me but thy doublet and a hood and with 



INTRODUCTION. 



the former return to my lord and thine and tell him 
that thou hast slain me; and I swear to thee by that 
life which thou wilt have bestowed on me, that I will 
remove hence and get me gone into a country whence 
never shall any news of me win either to him or to 
thee or into these parts.'*' The servant did as she 
begged him, and returned with her clothes to his 
master, to whom he declared that he had fulfilled 
his commands and had left the lady's dead body 
among a pack of wolves. Ginevra, in her man's dis- 
guise, betook herself to the coast, whore she engaged 
herself as a servant to a Catalan gentleman, who 
happened to have come ashore to refresh himself, 
under Uie name of Sicurano da Finale. With this 
gentleman she sailed to Alexandria, where she at- 
tracted the notice of the Sultan, and was given to 
him as a page by the Catalan. She soon rose in the 
Sultan's favour, and was appointed by him captain 
of the guard, which was sent to protect the interests 
of the merchants at the annual fair at Acre. Now 
it happened that Ambrogiuolo had also come to Acre 
to the fair, and was one day in the shop of certain 
Venetian merchants, where he exposed his merchan- 
dise for sale, when Ginevra entered and recognised 
among other trinkets the very purse and girdle which 
Ambrogiuolo had stolen from her. She asked where 
Ambrogiuolo had got them, and he replied that they 
were a love token from his paramour Madam Ginevra, 
wife of Bemabo Lomellini, at the same time recount- 
ing the story of the wager. Thereupon Ginevra 
** perceiving this fellow to have been the occasion of 
all her ills, determined not to let him go unpunished 
therefor," and to this end she ** clapped up a strait 
acquaintance with him," and, when the fair was over, 
persuaded him to accompany her back to Alexandria. 
Here she lent him money to trade with, and mean- 
time found means through the agency of certain 
Genoese merchants, who were then at Alexandria, 
to have Bemabo brought thither also. Then she 
caused both Ambrogiuolo and Bemabo to be brought 
before the Sultan, and by dint of threats, the whole 
truth was extorted from the former, who expected 
** no worse punishment therefor than the restitution 
of the five Uiousand gold florins and of the stolen 
trinkets." Bemabo was also interrogated, and con- 
fessed that he had caused a servant of his to put 
his wile to death. Ginevra's time was now come; 
she offered to produce the lady, if the Sultan would 
vouchsafe to punish the deceiver and pardon the 
dupe. The Sultan, *' disposed in the matter alto- 
gether to comply with Sicurano's wishes," consented, 
and Ginevra then discovered herself. Ambrogiuolo 
was put to a painful death,^ but Bemabo and Ginevra 
returned to Genoa ** with great joyance and exceed- 
ing rich." 

1 It may be noticed, as another link between Cyrabelfne 
and The Whiter's Tale, that Boccaccio's description of this 



It is uncertain whether Shakespeare read 
the story in the original or in a translation. 
No complete translation of the Decameron 
into English existed before 1620, but there 
were earlier partial versions. Steevens had 
seen " a deformed and interpolated " English 
imitation of this story, printed at Antwerp 
in 1518. Another adaptation occurs in a col- 
lection of tales called Westward for Smelts, 
from which Malone and Ingleby think Shake- 
speare drew some of his incidents; but it is ex- 
tremely doubtful whether he ever saw it, for 
though Steevens and Malone speak of an edi- 
tion of 1603, none is now known earlier than 
1620.* The reader, however, who wishes to 
form his own opinion on this point will find 
the story printed ih extenso in Boswell's Ma- 
lone, voL xiii., and in Hazlitt's Collier's Shake- 
speare's Library, part I. vol. ii. Cymbeline 
is the last play in the Folio, where, though in 
fact a comedy, it is entitled The Tragedie of 
Cymbeline. As against the suggestion that 
it was included in the voliune as an after- 
thought, the fact that the signatures, as well 
as the paging, are continuous with those of 
the play preceding (Antony and Cleopatra) 
may go for what it is worth. 

STAGE HISTORY. 

Concerning Cymbeline early records are all 
but silent Mr. Fleay in his "Chronicle His- 
tory " assumes that it was written in part in 
1606, just after Lear and Macbeth, "for which 
the same chronicler had been used" (p. 246), 
and was producecl in 1609 after the Roman 
plays and before The Winter's Tale. These 
dates may be taken as approximately con-ect. 
In the curious autograph i>amphlet of Dr. 
Simon Forman, the famous astrologer in the 
Ashmole collection of manuscripts, is a re- 
ference to a performance, undated, of Cym- 
beline, and as Forman died in September, 1611, 
it must liave been earlier than that date. 
The punning title, for such it is to be feared 

punishment furnished Autulycus with the mock sentence 
which he passes on the young clown: Winter's Tale, iv. 4. 
812 and note. 

2 The entry of this 1620 edition in the Stationers' 
Registers is dated 15th Jan. 1619-20, and is entered, 
with all the form of a new publication, as written by 
" Kinde Kit of Kingstone." 

79 



CYMBELINE. 



it must be judged, of Forman's tract is " The 
Bocke of Plaies and Notes therof per For- 
mans for common policie," and the account, 
curious as an early analysis of a plot, is tran- 
scribed by Halliwell-Phillipps, Outlines of 
the Life of Shakspeare, ii. 86, ed. 1886, and 
given in our Literary History (see p. 75). 

From this period a leap of near a century 
and a half is taken before anything further 
is heard concerning Cymbeline. On the 8th 
November, 1744, at the Haymarket, then 
imder the management of Theophilus Cibber, 
C>'mbeline was revived. No cast is preserved. 
In her autobiogi*aphy Mrs. Charke says, "I 
went to the Hay -market, where my brother re- 
vived the tragedy of Romeo and Juliet, and 
would have succeeded by other pieces he got 
up, in particular by the run of Cymbeline, 
but was obliged to desist by virtue of an 
order from the L d C n (Lord Cham- 
berlain): I imagine partly occasioned by a 
jealousy of his having a likelihood of a great 
run of the last-mentioned play; and which 
would of course been detrimental, in some 
measure, to the other houses" (p. 168, ed. 
1765). In these sentences Genest finds pretty 
clear proof that the play in question was 
Shakespeare's (^Jymbeline and not D'Urfey's. 
Cibber was Leonatus. Who was the Imogen 
is unknown. Most probably it was Miss 
Jenny Cibber, the daughter of Theophilus 
Cibber's first wife, Jenny Johnson. She at 
least played during the same season Juliet in 
Komeo and Juliet, 11th September, 1744, and 
Andromache in The Distressed Mother, 20th 
October, 1744. 

This production of Shakes])eare's Cymbe- 
line, accepting the rather sanguine assumption 
of Genest that it is his, had long been antici- 
pated by that of DX^rfey's Injured Princess 
or the Fatal Wager, 4to, 1682, supposed to 
have been given the same year at the Theatre 
Royal, subsequently Drury Lane. This is a 
mere version of Cymbeline, with alterations 
in dialogue, chamctei-s, and story. Posthumus 
becomes L^rsaces, Shatillion (a Frenchman) 
replaces lachimcj, and Imogen is lost in Eu- 
genia. Pisanio, the friend of Ursaces, is the 
father of Clarina, who l)ecomes the confi- 
dante of the Princess. The part of Guiderius 

80 



is given to Arviragus, and the second young 
prince is called Palladour. The cast with 
which this wretched adaptation was first given 
does not survive. In his epilogue D'Urfey 
says that the piece, which he calls a comedy, 
was written nine years previously. The scene 
lies in Ludstown, otherwise London. Its 
running title is The Unequal Match or the 
Fatal Wager. D'Urfey has assigned it as a 
prologue the same verses that had previously 
served as epilogue to his own The Fool Turned 
CVitic, 4to, 1678. Those who care to follow 
D'Urfev in his mournful task of mutilation 
will find in Genest, Account of the English 
Stage, vol. iv. pp. 331, ct seq. a full account of 
the strange web of cloth of gold and cloth of 
frieze. While lenient in his general judgment 
upon D'Urfey's work Genest is severe upon 
the introduction into an early English play of 
such allusions to his own time as: 

The full-fed city-dame would sin in fear 
The divine's daughter slight the amorous cringe 
Of her tall lover; the close salacious Puritan 
Forget th' appointment with her canting brother. 

Even more remarkable than the transference 
of the Puritan to early Britain is the direction 
given by Ursaces in the third act: 

Fly, sirrah, with this to the packet-boat. 

On 7th Jan. 1720, under the title of Cym- 
behne or the Fatal Wager, D'Urfey's piece 
was revived at Lincoln's Inn Fields with the 
following cast: — 



Cymbeline 


= Leigh. 


Ursaces 


= Ryan. 


Shatillion 


= Christopher Bullock 


Pisanio 


= Bohemo. 


Clotcn 


= H. Bullock. 


Bellarius 


= Ogden. 


Palladour 


— Egleton. 


Arviragus 


— Smith. 


lachimo 


= Spiller. 


Lucius 


= Diggs. 


Quoen 


= Mrs. Giffard. 


Eugenia 


= Mrs. Bullock. 


Clarina 


— Mrs. Gulick. 



Leigh, Ryan, the Bullocks, and Boheme were 
all actors of mark, and Spiller was at that time 
the most popubir of comedians. The cast must 
accordingly be regarded as strong, though the 



INTRODUCTION. 



interpreters of the female characters were not 
specially famous. Nothing, however, is re- 
corded in stage history concerning the per- 
formance. 

When, eighteen years later, at Covent Gar- 
den, jyUrfey^s play was revived, 20th Mar. 
1738, it was with alterations. It was, indeed, 
announced as by Shakespeare revised (by 
jyUrfey). Ryan was then promoted to Cym- 
beline, Delane was Ursaces, Walker Shatillion, 
Chapman Cloten, Aston Lucius, Mrs. Hallam 
the Queen, and Mrs. Templar Eugenia. Little 
interest seems to liave been inspired by this re- 
viTal, and I^Urfey's play then assumably dis- 
appeared from the stage. At Covent Grardeu, 
on 7th April, 1746, Woodward for his benefit 
revived Shakespeare's Cymbeline. Ryan was 
then Poethumus, Cashell Cymbeline, Hale 
lachimo, Johnson Belarius, Bridgewater Pi- 
sanio. Woodward Guiderius. Arviragus (with 
the dirge new set) was played by Beard the 
eminent singer, who married Lady Henrietta 
Herbert, Cloten by Cliapman, and Imogen by 
Mrs. Pritchard. 

At Covent Garden, on 16th Feb. 1759, a 
version of Cymbeline altered by William Haw- 
kins was produced. Four years previously an 
even more inept alteration by Charles Marsh 
had been published in 8vo. It does not appear, 
however, to have been played, and is accor- 
dingly outside the pale of our notice. In 
Hawkins' adaptation the effort was to render 
Shakespeare's play comformable, so far as pos- 
sible, to those tragic imities with which, fol- 
lowing in the wake of the French, English 
dramatists elected to burden themselves. To 
obtain this end lachimo is omitted, Cloten is 
converted into a serious character, Pisanio, re- 
christened Philario, is promoted to be a friend 
instead of the servant of Leonatus, and so 
forth. Other characters are "improved "(I) 
ill similar fashion, and Hawkins, like other 
mauglers, is vain enough to interpolate his 
(»wn language with that of Shakespeare. 
Hawkins' dialogue is, it is needless to say, 
flat, commonplace, and pitiful. Once more 
the reader, anxious to see in what manner 
Shakespeare may be travestied, is referred to 
the pages of Genest. When Shakes|)eare is 
altered by a man of genius such as Dryden, 

VOL. VIL 



or an actor with a keen eye to the stage 
such as Garrick, some notice of the irrever- 
ence to which he is subjected may be taken. 
A good-natured dunce, however, like Hawkins, 
whilom professor of poetry at Oxford Univer- 
sity, may be spared any long exhibition in the 
pillory. Revenge for the outrage was not long 
delayed. After one or two representations the 
version was withdrawn. In this ill-conceived 
and ill-starred adaptation Mrs. Vincent ap- 
peared as Imogen in place of George-Anne 
Bellamy, who declined it, Ryan was Cym- 
beline, Smith Palador (or Guiderius), Ross 
Leonatus, Ridout Philario, and Clarke Cloten. 
The play was acted (query first acted ?) at York 
(see Gentleman, " Dramatic Censor," ii. 96). 

Garrick produced Shakespeare's Cymbeline, 
with some alterations by himself, at Drury 
Lane, on the 28th Nov. 1761. The changes, 
confined, with the exception of a few added 
words, to omissions and transpositions, were 
fortunate enough to win the unqmUified praise 
of Genest. The cast, weak, except in three or 
four parts, is as follows: — 



Posthumus 

lachimo 

Belarius 

Pisanio 

Guiderius 

Arviragus 

Cymbeline 

Cloten 

Imogen 



Garrick. 
Holland. 
Burton. 
Packer. 
Obrien (nc). 
Palmer. 
Da vies. 
King. 
Miss Bride. 



This performance was given sixteen times. 
It seems, however, to have attracted com- 
paratively little attention. Francis Grentle- 
man, who alternately sponged upon and at- 
tacked Garrick, says concerning his Posthu- 
mus: "No performer ever knew his own 
abilities better, or strove more earnestly to 
keep them in the proper channel, than Mr. 
Garrick; his revival of this play, were there no 
other motives but a fresh opportunity of dis- 
playing his unparalleled powers, merits a large 
portion of pubUc praise ; for, we are bold to 
affirm, that considering an actor must make 
the part, not the part an actor, his astonish- 
ing talents were never more happily exerted ; 
this assertion becomes more evident by con- 
sidering that the falling off from him to any 

81 172 



CYMBELINE. 



other person who has since done it, is greater 
than in any other character; the tenderness 
of his love, the pathos of his grief, the fire of 
his rage, and the distraction of his jealousy 
have never been surpassed, and, possibly, in 
Posthumus, never equalled" (Dram. Censor, 
ii. 97, 98). To the lachimo of Holland, not- 
withstanding the affectation of the actor. 
Gentleman assigns a superiority, especially in 
the last act, over that of Smith, who is 
credited with possessing the " easy elegance 
and spirit which the character requires." 
Gentleman goes out of his way to praise, for 
its singular merit, the Palador of Frodsham, 
which, in Hawkins' version, he saw at York. 
This eccentric genius, as he calls Frodsham, 
"though he never reached a Theatre Royal, 
had," he declares, "extensive powers, good feel- 
ings, and the advantage of a liberal education," 
and was often "as great an oddity as ever 
presented itself to the public eye " (ib. ii. 99). 
This is the same Frodsham who patronized 
and perplexed Garrick in an interview held 
when Roscius was in the height of his power 
and fame. Cymbeline was revived at Covent 
Garden 28th Dec. 1767, with Powell as Post- 
humus, Smith as lachimo, Clarke as Belarius, 
Yates as Cloten, and Mrs. Yates as Imogen. 
Powell's merits were confined to tenderness 
and he was wanting in rapidity of passion. 
His impersonation was agreeable, but scarcely 
more. Yates was praised as Cloten, and 
Mrs. Yates, though she presented the princely 
aspects of Imogen, was said to be wanting 
in "an esssential, elegant innocence" (Dra- 
matic Censor, ii. 102). Among exponents of 
Posthumus were Reddish, who was weaker 
than Powell, and Bensley, whose perform- 
ance is dismissed by Gentleman with a " ha ! 
ha ! ha I " Palmer won some reputation as 
lachimo; Mrs. Bulkeley and Miss Younge 
were both welcomed in Imogen, though Mrs. 
Gibber's very affecting capabilities were " much 
better suited to the character than those of 
any other lady we (Gentleman) have ever 
seen ^ (ib. ii. 101). When revived at Drury 
Lane, Ist Dec. 1770, Mrs. Barry played Imo- 
gen for the first time. She should have been 
excellent in the part, but contemporary testi- 
mony is slack in testifying to her merits. 

82 



Reddish was Posthumus, Palmer lachimo, 
Dodd Cloten, J. Aikin Belarius, Packer Pi- 
sanio, Cautherley Guideriiis, and Brereton 
Arviragus. 

Henry Brooke's tragedy of Cymbeline, based 
upon Shakespeare, was published in 8vo in 
1778, but was not acted. 

A performance of Cymbeline was given at 
the Haymarket for the benefit of Bannister, 
Jun., on 9th Aug. 1782. Young Bannister 
was for the first time Posthumus, and Edwin, 
also for the first time, Cloten. Mrs. Bulkeley 
was Imogen, and Palmer lachimo. Hender- 
son made his first appearance as Posthumus 
at Covent Garden 18th Oct. 1784. Quick was 
for the first time Cloten, and Wroughton for 
the first time lachimo. Miss Younge played 
Imogen, and Hull Pisanio. 

John Kemble revived Cymbeline at Drury 
Lane 21st Nov. 1785, with a cast including — 

Posthumus = Kcmble. Belarius = J. Aikin. 
lachimo = Smith. Pisanio = Packer. 
Cloten = Dodd. Queen = Mrs. Hopkins. 

Imogen = Mrs. Jordan. 

This was announced as Mrs. Jordan's first 
appearance in the part So far as regards 
London this was true. She had, however, 
more than once played it in the country. 
Tate Wilkinson refers to a performance in 
York on 15th March, 1786, which apparently 
was not the first (Wandering Patentee, iL 
183). The European Maga2dne says of the 
impersonation: "From her tragic abilities we 
think little more than mediocrity is to be 
expected ; " but adds, concerning her Priscilla 
Tomboy in The Romp, played on tlie same 
occasion, that she excelled every performer 
that we know of at present on the English 
stage, and almost equalled the celebrated 
Mrs. Clive. No comment is passed upon 
Kemble, who had probably played Posthumus 
before in the country, if not in London. This, 
however, is his first recorded appearance. 

C}'mbeline was revived at Drury Lane 
29th Jan. 1787, Mrs. Siddons, whose benefit 
it was, then for the first time appearing as 
Imogen. In other respects the cast was the 
same as at the previous representation. Boa- 
den, the biographer of Mrs. Siddons, analyses 



INTRODUCTION. 



and commends her Imogen, without, however, 
rendering his praise very articulate, or indi- 
vidualizing the character of her acting. He 
speaks of the " perfect tone " of her reply to 
CjTnbeline's exclamation, "What, art thou 
mad ! "— 

Almost, sir : heaven restore me ! — Would I were 
A neat-herd's daughter, and my Leonatus 
Our neighbour shepherd's son ! 

—Act i. 2. 148-150. 

dwells upon the delivery of the sarcasm as to 
Qoten, and speaks of "a delineation which 
continued equally true in every feature to the 
end" (Memoirs of Mrs. Siddons, ii. 217). 
Such conventional and jejune praise conveys 
the idea of a favourable but remote impres- 
sion on the mind of the writer. Subsequently 
Boaden writes in a guarded style : " Wlien I 
assert that Mrs. Siddons was the only perfect 
Imf^gen that I have ever seen, I am fully 
aware that some representatives have more 
exactly answered to the fond and tender 
delineations of Fidele, which upon her recent 
loss are made by the two princes, her brothers" 
(ib. il 220). Campbell, who was only ten 
years old at the time of this performance, but 
may have seen her in the part at a later date, 
says: "Mrs. Siddons was peculiarly happy in 
Imogen. She gave greatness to the character 
without diminishing its gentleness" (Life of 
^Irs. Siddons, iL 103, ed. 1834). He believes, 
what is quite probable, that a feeling of rival- 
ship with Mrs. Jordan was not quite uncon- 
cerned. " In tragic acting she had palpably 
defeated the Yates and the Crawford; and 
though Miss Farren still shewed herself in 
the * Winter's Tale * as ffermione, she had no 
tragic popularity that could in the least alarm 
Mrs. Siddons. But Mrs. Jordan had admirers 
absurd enough to predict her greatness in 
tragedy; and she had played Bellario and 
Imogen, with no small celebrity, in the pre- 
ceding season. By acting Imogen only once, 
our great actress put a stop to Mrs. Jordan's 
competition with her on the graver stage. 
Imogen having to repulse Cloten, and to re- 
prove lachimo, requires not only sweetness, 
but dignity of demeanour. Of the latter 
princely quality the lovely and romping Mrs. 
Jordan had not a particle" (ib. ii. 103). A 



letter from Mrs. Siddons to " Mr. Hamilton," 
a painter, assumably William Hamilton, asks 
him for a sketch for a boy's dress, to conceal 
the person as much as possible, and adds: 
"The dress is for Imogen, but Mrs. Siddons 
does not wish to have it known." During 
the season of 1786-87 Cymbeline was fre- 
quently played. Before it was again revived 
another alteration was published in 8vo in 
1793. This is by Ambrose Eccles, an Irish- 
man, who aimed at nothing more than the 
transposition of scenes, and treated in similar 
fashion King Lear and the Merchant of 
Venice. His "transpositions" do not seem 
to have commended themselves to the man- 
agers, and his adaptations remained un- 
acted. 

On 13th May, 1800, at Covent Garden, Mrs. 
Pope played Imogen for her benefit, her 
husband being the lachimo, Holman the 
Posthumus, Murray Belarius, and H. John- 
ston Guiderius. The Montlily Mirror says 
that Mrs. Pope played the Imogen "with 
much feeling and propriety " (ix. 366). 

Kemble once more revived Cymbeline at 
Drury Lane, 12th Feb. 1801. Genest pays 
little heed to this revival, and does not even 
mention it in his index. It was, however, 
on a somewhat elaborate scale. Few Shake- 
spearian revivals liad received more liberal 
embellishment. The scene of Imogen's bed- 
chamber, following minutely the picture 
given of it by lachimo, was described at the 
time as one of the most magnificent ever 
painted for the stage; while of the last scene 
it is said : " If it were transferred to the can- 
vas by a skilful painter ... it would form 
as striking a composition, and as eloquent a 
specimen of pictorial art, as has ever been 
produced in this country " (the Monthly Mirror, 
xi. 197). Kemble's Posthumus is described 
by the same writer as " dignified, discrimina- 
tive, and highly im^iassioued." Mrs. Siddons 
was not in all respects the Imogen of Shake- 
speare. Majesty and solemn grandeur were 
hers, but she failed to show the "softness, deli- 
cacy, afifectionate tenderness, and interesting 
distress of Imogen," or to give "an idea of 
* that divineness no elder than a boy,' " which 
interests the young mountaineers. Of the 

83 



CYMBELINE. 



boy's dreas it is said, " a more ill-fancied, not 
to say disgusting suit of man-womanish attire 
was surely never seen " (ib. xL 195). Barry- 
more's lachimo was respectable, Wroughton 
was Belarius, Charles Kemble Guiderius, and 
R Palmer Cloten. 

On this occasion Kemble is believed to have 
first used an amended version for which he is 
responsible, in which he changed the name 
of Belarius to Morgan, Guiderius to Polydore, 
and Arviragus to Cadwal, and ajssigned the 
French gentleman the name of Lewi& On 
the revival at Covent Garden, 18th Jan. 1806, 
these names appear on the bill. Kemble had 
a mania for changing namea The cast of 
this performance deserves preservation. It is 
as follows : — 



Posthumus = Kemble. 
lachimo = Cooke. 
Polydore = H. Johnston. 
Cadwal = Brunton. 
Morgan = Murray. 



Cloten = Farley. 
Pisanio = Claremont. 
Cymbeline = Cresswell. 
Lewis = Treby. 
Imogen = Miss Smith. 



Queen = Mrs. Saint Leger. 

The name of the actor who played Lewis 
was Tebay, but Kemble, in the exercise of his 
whim, insisted on calling him Treby. For 
Young's benefit at Covent Garden, 3rd June, 
1812, that actor appeared as lachimo to 
Kemble's Posthumus, C. Kemble's Polydore, 
and Mrs. H. Johnston's Imogen. Kemble 
and Young reappeared in these parts at the 
same house, 29th May, 1816, when Terry for 
the first time was Morgan, Liston for the first 
time Cloten, and Miss Stephens for the first 
time Imogen, Egerton and his wife being re- 
spectively Cymbeline and the Queen. 

When, for Farley's benefit, 2nd June, 1825, 
Cymbeline was again given at Covent Garden, 
Charles Kemble was Posthumus, and Miss 
Foote Imogen. On 9th Feb. 1829, at Drury 
Lane, Young was Posthumus, Cooper lachimo, 
and Miss Phillips for the first time Imogen. 

Macready had essayed Posthumus in New- 
castle in the season of 1811-12. His first 
appearance in it in London took place at 
Covent Garden, 30th June, 1818, for the 
benefit of "Sally" Booth, who played Imo- 
gen. His own comment on his performance 
is simply that as a Shakespearian character 
added to his list it was firm ground to him 

84 



(Reminiscences, ed. Pollock, i. 168). He re- 
peated the performance at Drury Lane, 10th 
May, 1826, to the lachimo of Bennett and 
the Imogen of Miss Foote, and played it in 
Edinburgh in 1829, Miss Smithson, after- 
wards Madame Berlioz, being, assumably, the 
Imogen, and the houses being " empty " (Dib- 
din. Annals of the Edinburgh Stage, p. 328). 
On 16th October, 1833, at Covent Garden, he 
acted Posthumus " with freedom, energy, and 
truth, but there must have been observable 
an absence of all finish" (Diary in Keminis- 
cences, ii. 388). Later, 18th May, 1837, upon 
a performance in which Miss Helen Faucit 
was the Imogen, he writes: "Acted Post- 
humus in a most discreditable manner, un- 
digested, unstudied. Oh, it wajs most culpable 
so to hazard my reputation ! I was ashamed 
of myself. I trust I shall never so commit 
myself again. The audience applauded, but 
they knew not what they did. They called 
for me with Miss Faucit, I refused to go on," 
&c. (ib. iL 68). 

Considerable interest was felt in a revival 
of Cymbeline at Drury Lane, 22nd January, 
1823, which Genest inexplicably omits from 
his index. Kean and Young played together: 
the former as Posthumus, the latter as lachimo. 
A Miss Williams made as Imogen her first 
appearance on the stage, was a failure, and 
was replaced on the 29th by Mrs. W. West, 
who was little better. A critic, probably 
Talfourd, in the New Monthly, says that 
Kean's Posthumus was " fitful, passionate and 
wayward; — with occasional touches of tender 
thought and pathetic remorse. His sup- 
pressed passion where lachimo first questions 
Imogen's virtue was finely portrayed: though 
his best exertions were reserved for the scene 
where the scoffer returns apparently triumph- 
ant. Here the transitions from indifference 
to rage, from rage to listening anxiety: from 
susi^ense to the agony of conviction, with the 
relapses into hope and love, were * hit fiery off 
indeed ' " (vol. ix. p. 106). Young's lachimo 
is declared admirable: "The cool dry sar- 
casms were given with most appropriate voice 
and gesture; and the descriptions of Imogen, 
with a poetic fervour which seemed to redeem 
a part morally despicable, and to cast an in- 



INTRODUCTION. 



tellectual glory around ineffable meanness of 
purpose and of action " (ib.). 

C^mbeline was not one of Charles Kean's 
Shakespeare revivals. It is probable that he, 
in common with most actors of his own, pre- 
vious, and immediately succeeding times, took 
the character in the course of tuition or of 
varied experience. 

With Cymbeline Phelps opened his third 
season at Sadler's Wells. Phelps wa^i Leona- 
tus; Geo. Bennett, Belarius; Henry Marstou, 
lachimo; H. Mellon, C>'mbeline; Hoskins, 
Guiderius; Miss Laura Addison and Mrs. 
Marston, Queen. This wa^i one of the most 
successful of the Shakespearian revivals, and 
won the high praise of Charles Dickens and 
John Forster. The former wrote from Broad- 
stairs to thank Phelps for the delight he had 
receivetl from the representation, and praised 
the " excellent sense, taste, and feeling mani- 
fested throughout" (Phelps and Forbes 
Robertson's Life of Phelps, 389). 

In the memories of the older play-goers of 
to-day the character of Imogen is associated 
with Miss Helen Faucit (Lady Martin), in 
whose repertorj"" it remained, and who re- 
peated it duriug most of her appearances at 
Drury Lane until 1866. She was indeed 
during many years an ideal exponent of the 
part, showing alike the dignity and worth of 
the character and its sweet feminine seduction 
and allurement. George Yandeuhoff says of 
this fine actress that *' her expression of love 
is the most beautifully confiding, trustful, 
self-abandoning in its tone that I have ever 
witnessed in any actress; it is intensely fascin- 
ating (Reminiscences, p 40), words that exactly 
characterize her Imogen. Cymbeline was 
played at the Queen's Theatre, Long Acre, 
in April, 1872, with Mr. Rignold as Posthu- 
mua, Mr. Ryder as lachimo, Mr. H. Marston 
as Belarius, Mr. Lewis Ball as Cloten, and 
Miss Henrietta Hodson (Mrs. Labouchere) 
as Imogen, a part in which she acted pleas- 
ingly and discreetly without making it her 
own. 

There are few of our less-known tragedians, 
from Cobham downwards, who have not in 
Britain or in the United States been seen as 
LeonatuB. With no representative, however. 



since Kemble is the part intimately associated, 
and Imogen is the solitary possession of Miss 
Faucit. Of actors whom we must resign to 
America the elder Booth was the best Poet- 
humus. His performance of it at Covent Gar- 
den, 15th March, 1817, with Miss Costello 
from Cheltenham as Imogen, attracted much 
attention in consequence of this being a part 
in which Kean, whom Booth was said to 
emulate, had not at that time been seen. 
The Tlieatrical Inquisitor spoke of it as 
"fraught with every blemish, obnoxious to 
the most aggravated correction . . . be- 
yond amendment" (x. 225). A portrait of 
Booth as Posthumus given by it next month, 
shows that the impersonation had caused some 
impression. More favourable verdicts were, 
however, delivered. " Many passages he gave 
with great and appropriate energy, some with 
much dignity, and several in a tone of sarcasm 
that told with great effect" (quoted in Mrs. 
Booth's life of Booth, the elder and the 
younger, p. 42). Boston, 1882. C-ooke played 
lachimo without adding to his reputation. 
Miss Foote was also at Covent Garden, 20th 
March, 1817, a representative of Imogen. 

It is perhaps worthy of brief mention that 
a version of Cymbeline was played at Hackney 
School on April 24, 27, and 29, 1786, Mr. 
Dalrymple being Posthumus; Lord H. Fitz- 
roy, lachimo; Mr. Pelham, Guiderius; Mr. 
Vere, Pisanio; and Mr. Ponsonby, a name 
known through many generations in connec- 
tion with similar entertainments, Philario. 
A prologue and an epilogue by George Keats 
were delivered. — j. k. 

CRITICAL REMARKS. 

Although strictly a Come<ly, Cymbeline has 
not inaptly been termed a Tragedy with a 
happy ending. It has indeed all the elements 
of a tragedy except the catastrophe, and the 
pervading seriousness of tone is seldom ex- 
changed for a lighter vein; but for all this 
the boundary line which marks it off from the 
great tragedies is unmistakable. It has no- 
thing of the concentration of a Lear or of an 
Othello, nothing of the awful rapidity of a 
Macbeth: we seem to be moving in a different 
atmosphere, and instead of hurrying along 

85 



CYMBELINE. 



Tvith our eyes intent upon the one all-engross- 
ing object in front of us, we can breathe more 
freely and look about us, like those who have 
time to enjoy their journey. For Cymbeline 
has all the variety of interest and picturesque- 
ness of incident that constitutes a romance; 
as we advance fresh beauties rise before us, 
fresh surprises are in store for us, till the 
last scene we are duly kept in suspense, and 
the conclusion is all that we can desire. When 
we come to analyse the play we note that 
there are three distinct threads of interest, 
skilfully intertwined it is true, but still 
distinct: there is the quarrel between Britain 
and Home, the story of Imogen and Post- 
humus, and the story of Belarius and the 
stolen princes; while as subsidiary topics we 
have the conjugal thraldom of C/ymbeline, and 
the blustering incompetence of Cloten. In 
a play thus constructed, it will be evident 
that we cannot expect the interest to be sus- 
tained with the same dramatic intensity as in 
one with greater unity of plot, and a certain 
diffusiveness, or perhaps we should rather say 
freedom, of workmanship will be inevitable. 
But it is just this freedom which compensates 
for the loss of intensity. Not wholly occupied 
with depicting the workings of some master- 
ful human passion, or paralysing human weak- 
ness, the poet has time for the elaboration of 
such scenes as those which describe the life of 
the outlaws in their mountain home, and the 
supposed death of Fidele; while amid the fresh 
cool breezes of the Welsh uplands he allows us 
to forget for a while the treachery of the crafty 
Italian and the frenzied agony of his victim. 
Yet the play is not merely a series of beauti- 
ful pictures, or interesting episodes, such as we 
are accustomed to find in the productions of 
dramatists of less renown. Here, as elsewhere 
in Shakespeare, everything is subservient to 
the development of character. From this point 
of view every scene contributes its share to 
the denouement, nor is there any falling off 
observable in the power of the artist; the 
master-hand is as discernible in these latest 
creations as in those of any earlier period. 
And he has put forth all his strength on the 
central figure of the drama, the matchless 
Imogen, to speak of whom is to sing one long 

86 



paean of praise, and whose very name is as full 
of music as her voice. In her is to be found 
everything that makes woman lovable, and 
there is no situation in which she is placed 
which does not reveal some fresh beauty in 
her character. Adversity, instead of crushing 
her, only serves to make her still more beauti- 
ful Compare her demeanour in the hour of 
trial with that of Posthumus; he bursts forth 
into a paroxysm of rage against the whole 
race of woman, her first thought is pity for 
the man who has injured her, and her first 
fear is that the apostasy of the noble Posthu- 
mus will in future cause even the goodly and 
gallant to be suspected. Shakespeare showed 
in this how well he understood the difference 
between the impatience of a man's heart and 
the patience of a woman's. But impatient 
and precipitate as he is, Posthumus is a noble 
character: had he not been so we may be sure 
that the princess, who knew so well how to 
put aside the unwelcome overtures of the 
clownish Cloten, would never have stooped to 
him; and indeed in the very opening scene 
Shakespeare takes care that we shall l>e left 
in no uncertainty as to what manner of man 
he is: he would not have us even at the out- 
set cast the slightest reflection on his heroine, 
and we are assured that though below her in 
rank, Posthumus was in every respect worthy 
of her choice. And so he remains to the end; 
never until he receives what he believes to be 
convincing proof of the contrary, does he en- 
tertain the slightest suspicion of his wife's 
fidelity, indeed so full of confidence is he that 
he even accepts a proposal that it should be 
put to the test, and permits lachimo to start 
on his insidious errand. Of the result he 
clearly has no fear, and only waits for the 
baffled adventurer's return in order to punish 
him both in pocket and in person for the in- 
sult he had offered to his lady's reputation. 
But he is outwitted by the Italian, and, as 
we have seen, the shock brings with it a 
revulsion of feeling in which hatred and sus- 
picion are as marked as love and confidence 
had been before, and there is no vengeance 
short of the death of the supposed offender 
which can satisfy him. But in time remorse 
does its work; in calmer moments the form of 



INTKODUCnON. 



"the noble Imogen" rises before him, and 
when we meet him again, in the fifth act, the 
one wish of his penitent heart is to expiate his 
crime by his death. In all this he presents a 
striking parallel to Othello, and indeed the re- 
semblance between the two stories must strike 
the most casual reader. Like Posthumus, 
Othello is frank, noble, and unsuspicious; like 
him he is deceived, and like him he takes 
a terrible vengeance: in both, jealousy, when 
once aroused, works the same dire results, but 
here the resemblance ceases. Othello's is the 
stronger nature, and therefore the less easily 
unhinged; it requires all the art of so accom- 
plished a villain as an lago to sow the seeds 
of suspicion and to foster its growth. Of 
riper years than Posthumus, and of less im- 
pulsive temperament, he would never, we may 
be sure, have become a party to a wager 
in which his wife's honour was at stake; but 
on the other hand he would have had a sterner 
faith in the justice of his vengeance, and we 
may doubt whether he would have ever re- 
lented so long as he believed in the guilt of 
his victim. At the same time, he would never 
had the same powerful incentives to repent- 
ance as Posthumus: though his love for Desde- 
mona was as great as that of Posthumus for 
Imogen, he could never have regarded her 
with the same veneration. Beautiful as Desde- 
mona is, she is not to be compared to Imogen 
in strength of character, and it is the recollec- 
tion of the real worth of the Imogen he had 
known so well that gives its sting to her hus- 
band's remorse. Nor had Othello, like Post- 
humus, any ground for taking upon himself 
the blame of his wife's transgression. Post- 
humus, in the anguish of his soul, reflects 
that it was himself who had given the tempter 
his opportunity: had he never allowed lachimo 
to start upon his fatal enterprise, Imogen 
would never have fallen, and even now, but 
for his own guilty rashness, she might have 
been alive to repent (v. L 7-11): 

Gods ! if you 
Should have ta'en vengeance on my faults, I never 
Had Uv*d to put on this : so had you sav'd 
The noUe Imogen to repent ; and struck 
Me, wretch more worth your vengeance. 

We could scarcely have had a more striking 



testimony to her supreme influence for good 
than this triumph of Imogen over a husband 
who yet believed her to have been false. 

But this is not all; her presence is a spell, 
which even her would-be seducer is unable to 
resist, and he too becomes a prey to remorse for 
his sins against her. As Posthumus of Othello, 
so is lachimo a reflection of lago; but here too 
the contrast is as marked as the resemblance, 
lago, the most complete and most unredeem- 
able villain that Shakespeare ever drew, re- 
quires little or no provocation. With a delight 
in evil for its own sake, and a thorough dis- 
belief in human virtue, he pursues his designs 
with a mastety of his craft that has something 
almost splendid in its thoroughness, and his 
end is as hardened and unrepentant as his life, 
lachimo is a villain less accomplished, and his 
villany is less studied. A gay man of the 
world, of careless life, with a successful intri- 
guer's estimate of feminine virtue, he at last 
finds, to his astonishment, a woman who is proof 
against his advances. Thus baffled, what is 
he to do ? Too vain and too selfish to own him- 
self beaten, he resolves to gain his point by 
treachery, and defame an honest liidy's repu- 
tation rather than lose his wager. But, un- 
like lago, he is not utterly callous, he is not 
yet wholly enslaved by vice; and even before 
he leaves the scene of his knavery the qualms 
of conscience are awakened (ii. 2. 49, 60): 

I lodge in fear ; 
Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here. 

So in the end he too is brought to repentance, 
and compelled to own the strength of that 
goodness which he had belied, and that the 
misgivings with which the very first glimpse 
of Imogen had inspired had been more than 
realized (i. 6. 15-18): 

All of her that is out of door most rich ! 
If she be fumish'd with a mind so rare, 
She is alone th' Arabian bird; and I 
Have lost the wager. 

And again (v. 5. 147-149)— 

That paragon, thy daughter, — 
For whom my heart drops blood, and my false spirits 
Quail to remember. 

A fine study this, the victory of a noble-hearted 

87 



CYMBELINE. 



woman over two such opposite characters as 
Posthumus and lachimo ! 

It is Imogen who forms the link between 
the scenes in .Wales and the rest of the play. 
In all her wanderings and disguises she still 
draws all hearts to her. We note the affec- 
tion with which she is regarded by the faithful 
Pisanio, the brotherly love with which she 
inspires the youthful princes, and the warm 
regard felt for her by her master Luciua The 
fact that the two princes were really her bro- 
thers is of coui'se intended by Shakespeare as 
a partial explanation of their love for her, and 
the same instinct of aifinity, if the expression 
may be pardoned, is felt by Cymbeline when 
he looks upon his daughter in her page's dress 
near the close of the play, — but this is an un- 
conscious influence, and it was above all her 
personal graces which secured her the welcome 
which she found in the cave. These scenes 
before the cave of Belarius are some of the 
most carefully finished in the play, and among 
the most beautiful in Shakespeare. In them 
the poet has borne testimony to his belief in 
the paramount influence of birth, and the in- 
ability of circumstances to eradicate hereditary 
instincts. The spirit of the two young moun- 
taineers is constantly asserting itself in spite 
of their rude education and humble surround- 
ings. At the first we see them fretting under 
the restrauita imposed upon them by their 
foster-father, and eager for other adventures 
than those which a hunter's life could offer, 
until, when the noise of the Roman invasion 
reaches them, they succeed in compelling the 
old man to join their countrymen in arms, and 
by their valour turn the fortune of the fight 

In the Queen, Shakespeare has recurred to 
a type of character which he had already de- 

88 



picted at greater length in Lady Macbeth, and 
the resemblance is of the closest Both domi- 
nate over the weaker nature of their husbands, 
both have sacrificed everything to a selfish am- 
bition, nor do either of them shrink from any 
crime which may help them to gratify it But 
in both their physical temperament is too weak 
to carry them through : powerful as is their 
determination that evil shall win, and that 
their hearts shall be steeled against remorse, 
they are unable to stifle the terrors of the 
imagination, and both break down under an 
accumulation of horrors. But while success 
was fatal to Lady Macbeth, it is the failure of 
her schemes, consequent upon the loss of her 
son, that deprives CjrmbeUne's Queen of the 
power of combating any longer the tortures of 
the mind inflicted by her crimes. Unre|>ent- 
ant, and regretting with her last breath that 
her evil purposes were not effecte<l, she ended 
(v. 5. 31-33)— 

With horror, madly dying, like her life; 
Which, being cruel to the world, concluderl 
Moflt cruel to herself. 

We know not to what nation she belonged, 
but her wickedness is of a darker and more 
insidious type than that of the Scottish Queen: 
she deals in poisonous drugs like the crafty 
intriguers of the South, and gloats w*ith a 
fiendish vindictiveness over their effects upon 
her victims. Unlike Laily Macbeth she has 
no love for her husband, and the only person 
for whom she manifests any regard is the son 
in whom her ambitious schemes are bound up. 
She and her son perish impitied and unwept, 
and their tragic endings are the only shadow 
which is cast upon the happy picture of recon- 
ciliation and forgiveness in which the story 
culminates. 









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CYMBELINE. 



ScEKB I. Britain. The garden of Cymbeliite'i 

Enter tKO GmUlemen. 
Firtt Gent. You do not meet a man but 
frown*; our MoimU' 
No more obey the heavens than our courtiers 
Still seem aa does the kiug's. 

Sec. Gent. But vhat's the mattrrl 

Firtt Gent. Hisdaughter, and the heir of 'a 

kingdom, whom 

He purpoti'd to hiB wife's sole son — a widow 

That lat« he married — hath referr'd heraelf 

Unto a poor but worthy gentleman: she's 

wedded; 
Her husband baniah'd; she imprison'd: all 
In outward sorrow; though, I tliink, the king 
Br touch'd at very heart 
S«c. Gent. None but the king? 

Firtt Oeat. He that hath lost her too: so is 
the queen, 11 

That most deair'd the match: but not a courtier, 
Although they wear their faces to the bent 

^ Bloodi, dlspoiiUoni, tcmp^rjUDcati- 



Of the king's looks, hath a heart that is not 

Glad at the thing they scowl at. 

Sec. Genl. And why sol 

Firtt Gent. He that hath niisa'd the princess 
is a thing 

Too bad for bad report: and he that hath 

I mean, that married her. alack, good man! 
And therefore baiiish'd— is a creature such 
As, to seek through the regions of the earth 
For one his like, there would l)e something 
failing :i 

In him that should compare: — I do not think 
So fair an outward, and such stuff within, 
Endows a man but he. 
Sec. Gent. Yoii speak him far. 

Firil Gent. I do extend him, sir, within 
himself;* 
Crush him together, rather than unfold 
His measure duly. 

Sec. Gent. What's his name an.l birtht 

Firtt Genl. I cannot delve him to the root: 

his father 
I ITitAin hifiueV. wltlioul reulilDg tha Umlt of bU 



ACT I. Scene 1. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT I. Scene 1. 



Was call'd Sicilius, who did join his honour^ 
Against the Romans with Cassibelan; so 

But had his titles hy Tenantius, whom 
He serv'd vrith glory and admir'd success, — 
So gain'd the sur-addition Leonatus: 
And had, besides this gentleman in question. 
Two other sons, who, in the wars o' the time, 
Died with their swords in hand; for which 

their father. 
Then old and fond of issue, took such sorrow. 
That he quit being; and his gentle lady. 
Big of this gentleman our theme, deceased 
As he was bom. The king he takes the babe 
To his protection; calls him Posthumus Leo- 
natus; 41 
Breeds him, and makes him of his bedchamber; 
Puts to him all the learnings that his time^ 
Could make him the receiver of; which he 

took. 
As we do air, fast as 't was minister'd; 
And in's spring became a harvest; liv'd in 

court — 
Which rare it is to do — most praised, most 

lov'd ; 
A sample to the youngest; to the more mature 
A glass tliat feated them;^ and to the graver 
A child that guided dotards: to his mistress. 
For whom he now is bauish'd, — her own price* 
Proclaims how she esteem'd him and his 
virtue; 52 

By her election may be truly read 
What kind of man he is. 

Sec. Gent, I honour him 

Even out of your report But, pray you, tell 

me. 
Is she sole child to the king? 

First Gent. His only child. 

He had two sons, — if this be worth your hear- 
ing, 
Mark it, — the eld'st of them at three years old, 
I* the swathing-clothes the other, from their 

nursery 
Were stol'n; and to this hour no guess in 
knowledge* eo 

Which way they went 



1 Hit honour, bU honourable name. * Time, age. 

* Feated them, made them feat or neat, fashioned 
them. * Price, value. 

* A'o ffueit in knowledge, no guese leading to anj cer- 
tainty. 

90 



Sec, Gent, How long is this ago? 

First Gent, Some twenty yeara 62 

Sec, Gent, That a king's children should be 
so conveyed !• 
So slackly guarded ! and the search so slow, 
That could not trace theml 

First Gent, Howsoever *t is strange, 

Or that^ the negligence may well be laugh'd 

at. 
Yet is it true, sir. 
Sec, Gent, I do well believe you. 

First Gent, We must forbear: here •comes 
the gentleman. 
The queen, and princess. [Exeunt. 

Enter the Queen^ Posthumus, and Imogen. 

Qiieen, No, be assured you shall not find me, 
daughter, 7o 

After the slander of ^ most stepmothers, 
Evil-ey'd unto you: you 're my prisoner, but 
Your gaoler shall deliver you the keys 
That lock up your restraint — For you, Post- 
humus, 
So soon as I can win th' offended king, 
I will be known your advocate: marry, yet 
The fire of rage is in him; and 'twere good 
You lean'd unto his sentence with what pa- 
tience 78 
Your wisdom may inform you. 

Post. Plea^ your highness, 

I will from hence to-day. 

Queen, You know the periL — 

I '11 fetch a turn about the garden, pitying 
The pangs of barr'd affections; though the king 
Hath charg'd you should not speak together. 

[Exit. 
Into, O 

Dissembling courtesy! How fine this tyrant 
Can tickle where she woimds! — My dearest 

husband, 
I something fear my father's wrath; but 

nothing — 
Always reserv'd my holy duty — what 
His rage can do on me: you must be gone; 
And I shall here abide the hourly shot 
Of angry eyes; not comforted to live, 90 

> Convey'd, carried off, stolen. 
' Or that, or howsoe'er, i.e. in whatever degree. 
* A/ter the elander o/, according to the ■landeroni re- 
pute of. 



ACT I. Scene 1. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT I. Boene 1. 



But that there is this jewel in the world, 9i 
That I may see again. 

Past. My queen! my mistress! 

lady, weep no more, lest I give cause 
To be suspected of more tenderness 
Than doth become a man! I will remain 
The loyaFst husband that did e'er plight troth: 
Mv residence in Eome at one Philario's; 
Who to my father was a friend, to me 
Known but by letter: thither write, my queen. 
And with mine eyes I '11 drink the words you 

send, 100 

Though ink be made of galL 

He-enter Queen. 

Queen. Be brief, I pray you: 

If the king come, I shall incur I know not 
How much of his displeasure. — [Aside"} Yet 

I '11 move him 
To walk this way: I never do him wrong. 
But he does buy my injuries, to be friends;^ 
Pays dear for my offences. [Exit. 

Post. Should we be taking leave 

As long a term as yet we have to live, 
The loathness to depart would grow. Adieu! 

Imo. Nay, stay a little: lOo 

Were you but riding forth to air yourself, 
Such parting were too petty. Look here, love; 
This diamond was my mother's: take it, heart; 
But keep it till you woo another wife, 
When Imogen is dead. 

Post, How, how! another? — 

You gentle gods, give me but this I have. 
And sear up* my embracements from a next 
With bonds of death! — Remain, remain thou 
here [Putting on the ring: 

While sense can keep it on! And, sweetest, 

fairest. 
As I my poor self did exchange for you. 
To your so infinite loss; so in our trifles lao 

1 still win of you: for my sake wear this; 
It is a manacle of love; I '11 place it 
Upon this fairest prisoner. 

[Putting a bracelet upon her arm. 
If no. O the gods! 

When shall we see' again? 

Post. Alack, the king! 

1 To befriends, in order to be friends again. 

* Sear up, close np. 

* See, tee each othsr. 



Enter Ctmbeline and Lords. 

Cym. Thou basest thing, avoid! hence, from 
my sight! 125 

If after this command thou fraught* the court 
With thy im worthiness, thou diest: away! 
Thou 'rt poison to my blood. 

Post. The gods protect you I 

And bless the good remainders of the court! 
I 'm gone. [Exit, 

Imo. There cannot be a pinch in death 
More sharp than this is. 

Cym. O disloyal thing. 

That shouldst repair^ my youth, thou heapest 
A year's age on me! 

Imo. I beseech you, sir. 

Harm not yourself with your vexation: 
I'm senseless of^ your wrath; a touch more 

rare^ 
Subdues all pangs, all fears. 

Cym. Past grace? obedience? 

Imo. Past hope, and in despair; that way, 
past grace. 

Cym. That mightst have had the sole son of 
my queen! 

Imo. O bless'd, that I might not! I chose an 
eagle. 
And did avoid a puttock.® 140 

Cym. Thou took'st a beggar; wouldst have 
made my throne 
A seat for baseness. 

Into. No; I rather added 

A lustre to it 

Cym. O thou vile one! 

Imo. Sir, 

It is vour fault that I have lov'd Posthiimus: 
You bred him as my playfellow; and he is 
A man worth any woman; overbuys me* 
Almost the sum he pays. 

Cym. What, art thou mad! 

Imo. Almost, sir: heaven restore me! — 
Would I were 14» 

A neat-herd's daughter, and my Leonatus 
Our neighbour shepherd's son! 

Cym. Thou foolish thing! — 

4 Fraught, load, burden. * Repair, restore. 

• Seneeleee </, insensible to. 

7 A touch more rare, a sorrow more refined. 

8 Puttoek, a kite. 

* Overbuyt me, buys me too dearly. 

91 



ACT I. Scene 1. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT I. Scene 2. 



Re-enter Queen, 

They were again together: you have done 
Not after our command. Away with her, 
And pen her up. 

Queen, Beseech your patience. — Peace, 

Dear lady daughter, peace!— Sweet sovereign. 
Leave us to ourselves; and make yourself some 

comfort 
Out of your best advice.^ 

Cym, Nay, let her languish 

A drop of blood a day; and, being aged. 
Die of this folly! 

[Exeunt Ct/mbeline and Lorde. 

Queen, Fie! you must give way. 

Enter PiSAyio. 

Here is your servant. — How now, sir! What 
news? 159 

Pis, My lord your son drew on my master. 

Queen. Ha! 

No harm, I trust, is done ? 

Pis, There might have been, 

But that my master rather play'd than fought, 
And had no help of anger: they were parted 
By gentlemen at hand. 

Queen, I 'm very glad on 't. 

Imo, Your son 's my father's friend ; he takes 
his part — 
To draw upon an exile! — O brave sir! — 
I would they were in Afric both together; 
Myself by with a needle, that I might prick 
The goer-back. — Why came you from your 
master? 

Pis, On his command: he would not suffer 
me 170 

To bring him to the haven; left these notes 
Of what commands I should be subject to, 
When 't pleas'd you to employ me. 

Queen, This hath been 

Your faithful servant: I dare lay mine honour 
He will remain so. 

Pis. I humbly thank your highness. 

Qu^en. Pray, walk awhile. 

Imo, About some lialf-hour hence, 

I pray you, speak with me: you shall at least 
Go see my lord aboard : for this time leave me. 

[Exetmt, 

1 Admc€t reflection. 
92 



Scene II. The same, A public place. 

Enter Cloten and two L&i*ds, 

First Lord, Sir, I would advise you to shift 
a shirt; the violence of action hath made you 
reek as a sacrifice: where air comes out, air 
comes in: there's none abroad so wholesome 
as that vou vent. 

Clo, If my shirt were bloody, then to shift 
it* — Have I hurt him? 

Sec, Lord, [Aside] No, faith; not so much as 
his patience. 9 

First Lord, Hurt him! his body's a passable 
carcass,^ if he be not hurt: it is a throughfare 
for steel, if it be not hurt. 

Sec, Lord, [Aside] His steel was in debt; it 
went o' the backside the town. 

Clo, The villain would not stand me. 

Sec, Lord, [Aside] No; but he fled forward 
still, toward your face. 

First Lord, Stand you ! You have land 
enough of your own: but he added to your 
having; gave you some ground. 20 

Sec. Lord, [Aside] As many inches as you 
have oceans. — Puppies! 

Clo, I would they had not come between us. 

Sec, Lord. [Aside] So would I, till you had 
measur'd how long a fool you were upon the 
ground. 

Clo, And that she should love this fellow, 
and refuse me! 

Sec, Lord, [Aside] If it be a sin to make a 
true election, she is damn'd. so 

First Lord. Sir, as I told you always, her 
beauty and her brain go not together: she 's 
a good sign,* but I have seen small reflection 
of her wit. 

Sec. Lord. [Aside] She shines not upon fools, 
lest the reflection should hurt her. 

Clo. Come, I'll to my chamber. Would 
there had been some hurt done! 

Sec, Lord, [AMe] I wish not so; unless it 
had been the fall of an ass, which is no great 
hurt. 



s Then to shift it, then only it would be neceeeary to 
shift it. 

s A pasMble oareast, a bodj that can be ran through, 
and yet not hurt, a thoroughfare for etael. 

* She 'i a good sign, she has a good outward appearaooe. 



ACT I. Smm 2. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT I. Soene 4. 



Clo. You'll go with us? 40 

Firti Lord. I '11 attend your lordship. 
Clo. Nay, come, let 's go together. 
Htc. Lord, Well, my lord. \Exeu,nU 

ScKNS III. The same, A room in Cymhe- 

lin^s police. 

Enter Imogen* and Pisaxio. 

Imo. I would thou grew'st uuto the shores 
o' the haven. 
And question'dst every sail: if he should write, 
And I not have it, 'twere a paper lost. 
As offer'd mercy is. What was the last 
That he spake to thee? 

Pis, It was, **Hi8 queen, his queen!" 

Imo. Then wav'd his Iiandkerchief ? 

Pis. And kiss'd it, madam. 

Imo. Senseless linen! happier therein than 
I!— 
And that was all ? 

Pis. No, madam ; for so long 

As he could make me with this eye or ear 
Distinguish him from others, he did keep lO 
The deck, with glove, or hat, or handkerchief, 
Still waving, as the fits and stirs of 's mind 
Could best express how slow his soul saiFd on. 
How swift his ship. 

Into. Thou shouldst have made him 

As little as a crow, or less, ere left 
To after-eye him.^ 

Pis. Madam, so I did. 

Imo. I would have broke mine eye-strings; 
crack 'd them, but^ 
To look upon him; till the diminution 
Of space' had pointed him sharp as my needle; 
Nay, followed him, till he had melted from 
The smallness of a gnat to air; and then 21 
Have tum'd mine eye, and wept — But, good 

Pisanio, 
When shall we hear from him ? 

Pis. Be assur'd, madam. 

With his next vantage.* 

Imo. I did not take my leave of him, but had 
Mofit pretty things to say: ere I could tell him 
How I would think on him, at certain hours, 

> Ere \tfi io i^fter-eye kim, ere 70a cemaeU looking after 
him. * But, merely. 

* The diminution ntf tpae€t the diminution of bii image 
bj ipaoe. * Vantage, opportunity. 



Such thoughts and such ; or I could make him 

swear 
The shes of Italy should not betray 
Mine interest^ and his honour ; or have charg'd 

him, so 

At the sixth hour of mom, at noon, at midnight, 
T encounter me with orisons, for then 
I am in heaven for him; or ere I could 
Give him that parting kiss which I had set 
Betwixt two charming* words, comes in my 

father, 
And, like the tyrannous breathing of the north, 
Shakes all our buds from growing. 

Eider a Lady. 

Lady. The queen, madam, 

Desires your highness' company. 

Imo. Those things I bid you do, get them 
dispatch'd. — 39 

I will attend the queen. 

Pis. Madam, I shalL [Exeunt, 

Scene IV. Rome. An apartment in 
Philario's house. 

Enter Philario, Iachimo, a Frenchman^ a 
Dutchman^ and a Spaniard. 

lacli. Believe it, sir, I have seen him in Bri- 
tain: he was then of a crescent note;^ expected 
to prove so worthy as since he hath been 
allowed the name of: but I could then have 
look'd on him without the help of admiration, 
though the catalogue of his endowments had 
been tabled^ by his side, and I to peruse him 
by items. 

PhL You speak of him when he was less 
fumish'd than now he is with that which 
makes him both without and within. 10 

French. I have seen him in France: we had 
very many there could behold the sun with as 
firm eyes as he. 

lach. This matter of marrying his king's 
daughter — wherein he must be weighed rather 
bv her value than his own — words him, I doubt 
not, a great deal from the matter.' 

* Mine interest, my rights to bis affection. 
« Channing, working with a charm. magicaL 
f A creecent note, a rising reputation. 
B Tabled, set down in a tablet or memorandum. 
> Words him a great deal from the matter, describes him 
as something very different from what he really la. 

93 



ACT I. Soene 4. 



CYMBELINK 



ACT I. Soene 4. 



French. And then his banishment, — 18 
, lack. Ay, and the approbation of those that 
weep this lamentable divorce, under her col- 
ours,^ are wonderfully to extend* him; be it 
but to fortify her judgment, which else an easy 
battery might lay flat, for taking a beggar 
without less quality.' But how comes it he 
is to sojourn with you? how creeps acquaint- 
ance? 

Phi. His father and I were soldiers together; 
to whom I have been often bound for no less 
than my life. — Here comes the Briton: let him 
be so entertained amongst you as suits, with 
gentlemen of your knowing,* to a stranger of 
his quality. so 

Enter Posthumus. 

— I beseech you all, be better known to this 
gentleman; whom I commend to you as a noble 
friend of mine: how worthy he is I will leave 
to appear hereafter, rather than story ^ him in 
his own hearing. 

FrericJi. Sir, we have known together in 
Orleans. 

Post. Since when I have been debtor to you 
for courtesies, which I will be ever to pay, and 
yet pay still. 40 

French. Sir, you o'er-rate my poor kindness: 
I was glad I did atone ^ my countryman and 
you; it had been pity you should have been 
put together with so mortal a purpose as then 
each bore, upon importance^ of so slight and 
trivial a nature. 

Post. By your pardon, sir, I was then a 
young traveller; rather shunn'd to go even 
with what I heard® than in my every action 
to be guided by others* experiences: but, upon 
my mended judgment, — if I offend not to say 
it is mended, — my quarrel was not altogether 
slight. 51 

French. Faith, yes, to be put to the arbitre- 
ment of swords; and by such two that would. 



1 Under her eoUmn, under her banner, on ber party. 

* Eztend, magnify. 

s With<mt lesi quality, without any quality. 

* Kiwwing, experience. 

* Story, give an account of him, pralae him. 
9 Atone, set at one, reconcile. 

^ Importance, import, matter. 
. * Shunn'd to go even with what J heard, avoided con- 
forming to the opinion! of others. 

94 



by all likelihood, have confounded' one the 
other, or have fallen })oth. 

lach. Can we, with manners, ask what was 
the difl^erence? 57 

French, Safely, I think: 't was a contention 
in public, which may, without contradiction, 
suffer the report It was much like an argu- 
ment that fell out last night, where each of us 
fell in praise of our countiy mistresses; ^^ this 
gentleman at that time vouching — and upon 
warrant of bloody affirmation — his to be more 
fair, virtuous, wise, chaste, constant, qualified,^^ 
and less attemptible, than any the rarest of 
our ladies in France. 

lach. Tliat lady is not now living; or this 
gentleman's opinion, by this, worn out 

Post. She holds her virtue still, and I my 
mind. 

lacL You must not so far prefer her fore 
ours of Italy. 71 

Post. Being so far provok'd as I was in 
France, I would abate her nothing,^' though I 
profess myself her adorer, not her friend.** 

lach. As fair and as good — a kind of hand- 
in-hand comparison** — had been something too 
fair and too good for any lady in Britain. If 
she went before others I have seen, as that 
diamond of yours outlustres many I have be- 
held, I could not but believe she excelled many: 
but I have not seen the most precious diamond 
that is, nor you the lady. 82 

Post. I prais'd her as I rated her: so do I 
my stone. 

lach. What do you esteem it at? 

Post. More than the world enjoys,** 

lach. Either your unparagon'd mistress is 
dead, or she 's outpriz'd** by a trifle. 

Post. You are mistaken: the one may be 
sold, or given, if there were wealth enough for 
the purchase, or merit for the gift: the other 
is not a thing for sale, and only the gift of the 
gods. us 

* Confounded, destroyed. 

10 Fell in praise qf our country mittrestee. fell to praiA- 
ing the miatreues of our own countriea 

11 Quaiyied, having all good qualities. 

i> Abate her nothing, deduct nothing from her merits 

1* Friend, lover. 

^* A kind qf hand-in-tiand eompariton, a comparison 
where the two things compared go hand in hand, or keep 
pace. i» JSnjoyt, possesses 

19 Outprij^d, exceeded in value. 



CYMBELINE. 



ladi. Which the gwla have given you) m 
Poit. Which, by their graces, I will keep. 
laek. Youmny wearberin titleyours: but, 
you know, strange fowl light upon neighbour- 
ing ponda. Your ring may be atolen tool bo 
your brace of unprizable' eBtimationa; the one 
is but frail, and the other caaiial;^ a cunning 



thief, or a that way accompliah'U courtier, 
wouhl hazard the winning both of first and 



Pott. Your Italy c 
pliab'd a courtier to convince^ the honour of 
my mistressi if, in the holding or loss of that, 
you term her frail I do notliing doubt you 





^l\ 


I 


i^Mj 


€ 


r>^ "^m 


J 


il jflHii 




%Ci& 




M 


Z^ ^"^ 




n- — *»^ 


-*> 



bare atore of thieves; notwithstanding, I fear 
oijt my ring. 

I'hi. Let us leave' here, gentlemen. 

Po$t. Sir, with all my heart. This worthy 
aignior, I thank him, makes no stranger of me; 
w« are familiar at first m 

lack. With five timea ao much conversation, 
1 should get ground of your fair mistress; 
make her go back,^ even to the yielding, ha<] 
I admittance, and opportunity to friend. 

1 CnpriiabU, loTiliubla. > Canial, llslile to KCldent 

' Ta tnHriiut. u to TtnqnUb. 

• Itau. iHTe oS, «>M. • Go baek, ^tb wit. 



Pott. No. no. 

lucA. I dare thereupon pawn the moiety of 

my estate to your ring; which, in my opinion, 
o'ervaluea it something: but I make my wager 
rather against your confidence than her repu- 
tation; and, to bar your offence herein too, I 
durst attempt it against any lady in the world. 

Pott. You are a great deal abua'd* in loo 
bold a persuasion;' and I doubt not you sus- 
tain what you 're worthy of by your attempt. 

Iw:/>. What 'a that? 1ST 

4 Abua'd, decclted, * pertiiation, opinloiL 



ACT I. Soene 4. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT I. Soene & 



Post, A repulse: though your attempt, as 
you call it, deserve more, — a punishment too. 

Fhi, Gentlemen, enough of this: it came in 
too suddenly; let it die as it was bom, and, I 
pray you, be better acquainted. 

lack. Would I had put my estate and my 
neighbour's on the approbation^ of what I 
have spoke! 135 

Post, What lady would you choose to assail ? 

lack. Yours; whom in constancy you think 
stands so safe. I will lay you ten thousand 
ducats to your ring, that, commend me to the 
court where your lady is, with no more advan- 
tage than the opportunity of a second confer- 
ence, and I will bring from thence that honour 
of hers which you imagine so reserved. 

Post, I will wage* against your gold, gold 
to it: my ring I hold dear as my finger; 'tis 
part of it 

Ia<:h, You are afraid, and therein the wiser. 
If you buy ladies' flesh at a million a dram, 
you cannot preserve it from tainting: but I 
see you have some religion in you, that you fear. 

Post. This is but a custom in your tongue;** 
you bear a graver purpose, I hope. 151 

lach, I am the master of my speeches; and 
would undergo* what's spoken, I swear. 

Post. Will you ? — I shall but lend my dia- 
mond till your return: — let there be covenants 
drawn between 's: my mistress exceeds in good- 
ness the hugeness of your unworthy thinking: 
I dare you to this match : here 's my ring. 

Phi. I will have it no lay.* 159 

lack. By the gods, it is one. — If I bring you 
no sufficient testimony tliat I have enjoy'd the 
dearest bodily part of your mistress, my ten 
thousand ducat« are yours; so is your diamond 
too: if I come oflf, and leave her in such honour 
as you have trust in, slie your jewel, this your 
jewel, and my gold are yours; — provided I 
have your commendation for my more free 
entertaiimient icr 

Post. I embrace these conditions; let us have 
articles betwixt us. — Only, thus far you shall 
answer: if you make your voyage upon her, 
and give me directly to understand you have 

1 Approbation, making good. > Wage, wager, 

s A cuitom in your tongue, a piece of your uiual brag- 
gadocio. 
* Undergo, undertake. » Lay, wager. 

96 



prevail'd, I am no further your enemy; she is 
not worth our debate: if she remain unseduc'd^ 
— you not making it appear otherwise, — for 
your ill opinion, and the assault you have 
made to her chastity, you shall answer me with 
your sword. 

lack. Your hand, — a covenant: we will have 
these things set down by lawful counsel,^ and 
straight away for Britain, lest the bargain 
should catch cold and starve:^ I will fetch my 
gold, and have our two wagers recorded. I8I 

Post. Agreed. 

[Exeunt Posthumus and lachimo. 

French. Will this hold, think you? 

Phi. Signior lachimo will not from it. Pray, 
let us follow 'em. [Exeunt, 

Scene V. Britain. A room in Cynibeline's 

palace. 

Enter Qneen^ LadieSy and Cornelius. 

Queen. Whiles yet the dew's on ground, 

gather those flowers; 
Make haste: who has the note of them ? 
First Lady. I, madam. 

Queen, Dispatch. — [Exeunt Ladies, 

Now, master doctor, have you brought those 

drugs? 
Cor. Pleaseth your highness, ay: here they 

are, madam: [Presenting a small box. 
But I beseech your grace, without offence, — 
My conscience bids me ask, — wherefore you 

have 
Commanded of me these most poisonous com- 

{>ounds. 
Which are the movers® of a languishing death; 
But, though slow, deadly ? 

Queen. I wonder, doctor. 

Thou ask'st me such a question. Have I not 

been 11 

Thy pupil long ? Hast thou not leam'd me how 
To make perfumes? distil? preserve? yea, so 
Tliat our great king himself doth woo me oft 
For my confections? Having thus far pro- 

ceeiled, — 
Unless thou think'st me devilish, — is 't not meet 
That I did amplify my judgment in 

^ By lau>ful eoumel. i.e. by lawyen. 
1 Starve, perisli witli the void. 
> Moven, cauaera. 



CYMBELINE. 



Other conclusions)* I will try the forces 
Of these thy compounds on such cretiturea as 
We count not worth the hanging, — but none 
human,— 20 

To try the vigour of them, and apply 
AlUymenta to their act; and by them gather 
Their several virtues and effects. 

Cor, Your highness 

Shall from this practice but make hard your 

Besides, the seeing these effects will be 
But noisome and iufeetious. 

(^u«iu O, content thee. — 

[jAiii'] Here comea a flattering rascal; upon 

Will I first work; he's for hia master, ss 

And enemy to my son. — 

Enter PiSASio. 

Huw now, Piaaiiio! — 
I^xtor, your service for this time is ended; 
T»ke your owu way. 

Cor. [Aside] I do suspect yon, madam; 

But you shall Jo no harm. 
(fiian. [To Piianio] Hark tiee, a word. 
Cor. [.Uide] I do not like her. She doth 
tMuk she has 
Strange lingering poisons: I do know her spirit, 
And will not trust one of her noalice with 
Adnjg of such damn'd nature. Those she has 
Will stupefy and dull the sense awhile; 
Which first, perchance, she 'II prove on cats 
I uid dogs, ss 

Then afterward up higher; but there is 
No danger in what show of death it makes, 
I Uorc than the locking-up the spirits a time, 
To be more fresh, reviving. She is foolM 
With a most false effect; and I the truer. 
So to be false with her. 

Quern. No further service, doctor, 

L'niil I send for thee. 

Cor. I humbly take my leave. [Esrit. 

QuttTi. Weeps she still, sa/st thou? Dost 

thou think in time 

Sht will not quench,' and let instructions enter 

f Where folly now possesses 1 Do thou work: 

Whiin thou shalt bring me word she loves my 



I'll tell thee on the instant thou art then 
As great as is thy master; greater,— for 
His fortunes all He speechless, and his nami 
Is at last gasp: return he cannot, nor 
Continue where he is: to shift his being^ 
Is to exchange one misery with another; 
And every dflv that conips comes to decav 




A day's work in him. What shalt thou expect. 

To be' depender on a thing that leaiis,'^ 

Who cannot be new built, nor has no friends, 

[T/ie Qiifen dropt the box: Piianw 

take* it vp. 

So much as but to pri>p him) — Thou tak'st up 

Thou kiiow'st not what; but take it for thy 

labour: ai 

' Uu brinn. the place where he li. 

• LeaM, leoni orer, snd h threatcDS to fiill. 



ACT L Scene 5. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT L 8O01M 6. 



It is a thing I made, which hath the king 
Five times redeem'd from death : I do not know 
What is more cordial: — nay, I prithee, take it; 
It is an earnest of a further good 
That I mean to thee. Tell thy mistress how 
The case stands with her; do 't as from thyself. 
Think what a chance thou changest on; but 

think 
Thou hast thy mistress still, — to boot, my son. 
Who shall take notice of thee: I '11 move the 

king 70 

To any shape of thy preferment, such 
As thou 'It desire; and then m3rself, I chiefly. 
That set thee on to this desert, am bound 
To load thy merit richly. Call my women: 
Think on my words. [Exit Pisanio. 

A sly and constant knave; 
Not to be shak'd; the agent for his master; 
And the remembrancer of her to hold 
The hand-fast^ to her lord. — I Ve given him 

that, 78 

Which, if he take, shall quite unpeople her 
Of leigers' for her sweet;' and which she after, 
Except she bend her humour, shall be assur'd 
To taste of too. 

Re-enter PiaAKio and Ladies. 

So, so; — well done, well done: 
The violets, cowslips, and the primroses. 
Bear to my closet — Fare thee well, Pisanio; 
Think on my words. 

[Exeunt Queen and Ladies, 
Pis, And shall do: 

But when to my good lord I prove untrue, 
I '11 choke myself: there 's all I '11 do for you. 

[Exit. 

Scene VI. The same. Another room in 

the same. 

Enter Imooen. 

Jmo. A father cruel, and a step-dame false; 
A foolish suitor to a wedded lady, 
That hath her husband banish'd;* — O, that 

husband! 
Mysiipreme crown of grief ! and those repeated 

> Hand-faat^ contract, \.e. her marriage yow. 
I Lfigen, ambasBadon. 

* Her stteet, i.<. Poathumas. 

* Banish'd, i.e. in banishment. 

98 



Vexations of it! Had I been thief -stol'n. 
As my two brothers, happy! but most miser- 
able 
Is the desire that 's glorious:^ bless'd be those, 
How mean soe'er, that have their honest wills, 
Which seasons comfort.® — Who may this be? 
Fie! 

Enter Pisanio and Iachimo. 

Pis. Madam, a noble gentleman of Borne 
Comes from my lord with letters. 

Jach. Change you,' madam? 

The worthy Leouatus is in safety. 
And greets your highness dearly. 

[Presents a letter. 

Jmo Thanks, good sir: 

You 're kindly welcome. 

Jach. [Aside] All of her that is out of door 
most rich! 
If she be f umish'd with a mind so rare. 
She is alone th' Arabian bird; and I 
Have lost the wager. Boldness be my friend! 
Arm me, audacity, from head to foot! 
Or, like the Parthian, I shall flying fight; 
Bather, directly fly. 21 

Jmo. [Reads] ** He is one of the noblest note, to 
whose kindnesses I am most infinitely tied. Reflect 
upon him ' accordingly, as you value your trust — 

Leonatus." 
So far I read aloud: 
But even the very middle of my heart 
Is warm'd by the rest, and takes it thankfully. — 
You are as welcome, worthy sir, as I » 

Have words to bid you; and shall find it so, 
In all that I can do. 

Jach. Thanks, fairest lady. — 

What, are men mad ? Hath nature given them 

eyes 
To see this vaulted arch, and the rich crop 
Of sea and land, which can distinguish 'twixt 
The fiery orbs above, and the twinn'd* stones 
Upon the number'd^^ beach? and can we not 
Partition make with spectacles" so precious 
Twixt fair and foul? 



* Glorious, desirous of glorf, ambitious. 

« Which seasons comfort, which gives a zest to hapi»i- 
ness. Y Change you, do you change colour? 

* Reflect upon him, look upon him. 
9 Twinn'd, like as twins. 

10 Sumher'd, rich in numbers, i,s. covered with nmner- 
ous stones. >i SpeetadUs, organs to see with, eyes. 



ACT L SottM 0. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT I. Scene 0. 



Imo, What makes your admiration?^ 

lack. It cannot be i' th' eye; for apes and 
monkeys, 
Twist two such shes, would chatter this way, 



and 



nor i* 



40 

the 



Contemn with mows' the other: 

judgment; 
For idiots, in this case of favour,' would 
Be wisely definite: nor i' th' appetite; 
Slnttery, to such neat excellence oppos'd, 
Should make desire vomit emptiness, 
Not so allur'd to feed. 
Imo, What is the matter, trow? 
lack. The cloyed will, — 

That satiate yet unsatisfied desire, that tub 
Both fill'd and running, — ^ravening^ first the 

lamb. 
Longs after for the garbage. 

Imo, What, dear sir. 

Thus raps* you? Are you well? 5i 

ladi. Thanks, madam; well — \To Piaanio] 
Beseech you, sir, desire 
My man's abode where I did leave him: he 
la strange and peevish.® 

Pit, I was going, sir. 

To give him welcome. [Ejtnt, 

Imo. Continues well my lord? His health, 

beseech you? 
lack. Well, madam. 

/mo. Is he disposed to mirth? I hope he is. 
lack. Exceeding pleasant; none a stranger 
there 
So meny and so gamesome: he is call'd 60 
The Briton reveller. 

/wo. When he was here 

He did incline to sadness, and oft-times 
Not knowing why. 

/a<^ I never saw him sad. 

There is a Frenchman his companion, one 
An eminent monsieur, that, it seems, much loves 
A Gallian girl at home; he furnaces 
'Hie thick sighs from him ; whiles the jolly 

Briton — 
Your lord, I mean — laughs from's free lungs, 
cries " O, 

^ Admiration, aatoniihment. 

* Jfom, wry facet. * Fatour, features. 

* Bamningt raTenonaly derourixig. 
*Bap$^ tranaportc. 

* Strang und pteviah, a itranger and fooUah. 



Can my sides hold, to think that man — who 

knows 
By history, report, or his own proof ,^ 70 

What woman is, yea, what she cannot choose 
But must be — will 's free hours languish for 
Assured bondage?" 

Imo, Will my lord say so? 

lack. Ay, madam; with his eyes in flood 
with laughter: 
It is a recreation to be by. 
And hear him mock the Frenchman. But, 

heavens know. 
Some men are much to blame. 

Imo, Not he, I hope. 

lack. Not he: but yet heaven 's bounty to- 
wards him might 
Be us'd more thankfully. In himself, 'tis 

much; 
In you, — which I account his beyond all 
talents, — 80 

Whilst I am bound to wonder, I am bound 
To pity too. 

Iftw, What do you pity, sir? 

lacL Two creatures heartily. 

Imo. I am one, sir? 

You look on me : what wrack discern you in me 
Deserves your pity? 

lack Lamentable! What, 

To hide me from the radiant sun, and solace^ 
I' the dungeon by a snuff? 

Imo. I pray you, sir. 

Deliver with more openness your answers 
To my demands. Why do you pity me? 

lack. That others do — 90 

I was about to say — enjoy your But 

It is an office of the gods to venge it, 
Not mine to speak on 't 

Imo. You do seem to know 

Something of me, or what concerns me: pray 

you— 
Since doubting things go ill often hurts more 
Than to be sure they do; for certainties 
Either are past remedies, or, timely knowing. 
The remedy then bom — discover to me 98 
What both you spur and stop. 

lack. Had I this cheek 

To bathe my lips upon ; this hand, whose touch. 
Whose every touch,would force the feeler's soul 



7 Proqf, experience. 



• Solaee, take delight 



d9 



( 



ACT I. Scene 6. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT I. Boene 6. 



To th' oath of loyalty; thia object, which 102 
Takes prisoner the wild motion of mine eye, 
Fixing it only here; — should I — damn'd then — 
Slaver with lips^ as common as the stairs 
That mount the Capitol; join gripes with 

hands 
Made hard with hourly falsehood — falsehood, as 
With labour; then by-peeping* in an eye 
Bajse and illustrious^ as the smoky light 100 
That's fed with stinking tallow; — it were fit 
That all the plagues of hell should at one time 
Encounter such revolt 

Inw. My lord, I fear. 

Has forgot Britain. 

lach. And himself. Not I, 

Inclin'd to this intelligence, pronounce 
The beggary of his change; but 'tis your graces 
That from ray mutest conscience to my tongue 
Charms this report out. 

Imo. Let me hear no more. 

lack. O dearest soul, your cause dotli strike 
my heart 
With pity, that doth make me sick ! A lady 
So fair, and fasten'd to an empery* 120 

Would make the great'st king double, to be 

partnered 
With tomboys, hir'd with that self exhibition^ 
Which your own coflfers yield ! with diseas'd 

ventures 
That play with all infirmities for gold 
Which rottenness can lend nature! such boil'd 

stuff 
As well might poison poison! Be reveng'd; 
Or she that bore you was no queen, and you 
Recoil® from your great stock. 

Imo. Reveng'd ! 

How should I be reveng'dl If this be true, — 
AlS I have such a heart that^ both mine ears 
Must not in haste abuse,* — if it be true, 131 
How should I be reveng'd? 

lack. Should he make me 

Live, like Diana's priest,* betwixt cold sheets, 
Whiles he is vaulting variable ramps,^® 

1 With lipa, by llpa. 

s By-peeping, peeping between whiles. 

* lUxutrunu, lacking lustre. 

* Empery, sovereignty. 

* That self exhUntioiit that same allowance. 

* ReeoU, degenerate. T TAat, object of dbum. 

* Abuse, deceive. > Priest, priettetM. 
10 VariabU ramps, varioas leapa. 

100 



In your de8pite,upon your purse ? *^ Revenge it 
I dedicate myself to your sweet pleasure; 
More noble than that runagate to your bed; 
And will continue fast to your affection. 
Still close ^* as sure. 

Imo. What, ho, Pisanio! 

lack. Let me my service tender on your lips. 

Imo. Away! — I do condemn mine ears that 
have 141 

So long attended thee. — If thou wert honour- 
able. 
Thou wouldst have told this tale for virtue, not 
For such an end thou seek'st, — as base as 

strange. 
Thou wrong'st a gentleman who is as far 
From thy report as thou from honour; and 
Solicit'st here a lady that disdains 
Thee and the devil alike. — What ho, Pisanio! — 
The king my father shall be made acquainted 
Of thy assault: if he shall think it fit, 150 

A saucy stranger, in his court, to mart*' 
As in a Romish stew, and to expoimd 
His beastly mind to us, — he hath a court 
He little cares for, and a daughter who 
He not respects at alL — What, ho, Pisanio! — 

lack. O happy Leonatus! I may say: 
The credit 1* that thy lady hath of thee 
Deserves thy trust; and thy most perfect good- 
ness 
Her assur'd credit. — Blessed live you long! 
A lady to the worthiest sir tliat ever I60 

Country call'd his! and you his mistress, only 
For the most worthiest fit! Give me your 

pardon. 
I have spoke this, to know if your affiance** 
Were deeply rooted; and shall make your lord, 
That wliich he is, new o'er: and he is one 
The truest manner'd; such a holy witch. 
That he enchants societies into him; 
Half all men's hearts are his. 

Imo. You make amende. 

lach. He sits 'mongst men like a descended 

god: 

He hath a kind of honour sets him off, ITO 

More than a mortal seeming. Be not angry, 

Most mighty princess, that I have adventur'd 

11 Upon your purse, at your expense. 

u Close, secret. i* Mart, traffic. 

14 Credit, good opinion. 

1* Affiance, confidence, faith. 



CYMBELINR 



To ti7 your taking of a false report; which 

hath ITS 

Honour'd with confirmatiou your great judg- 

In the election of a sir so rare. 
Which you know cannot err: the lore I bear 
hbn 



Made me to fan' youthiu; but the gods made 

you. 
Unlike all others, chaffleea. Pray, your pardon. 
/mo. All's weU, sir: take my power i' the 

court for yours. 
lack. Hy bumble thtrnks. I had almost 




T entreat your grace but in a small request, 
And yet of moment too, for it concerns 
Your lord; mj'self, and other noble friends, 
Ak partners in the busiuess. 
/mo. Pray, what ie't) 

iach. Some dozen Bomans of wa, and your 
lord— 
The beat feather oi our wing — have mingled 

To buy a present for the emperor; 

Which I, the factor for the rest, have done 

In France: 'tis plate of rare device, and jewels 



Of rich and exquisite form ; their values great; 
And I am something curious,' being strange, 
To have them in safe stowage : may it please 

To take them in protection? 

Imo. Willingly; 

And pawn mine honour for their safety : since 
My lord hath interest in them, I will keep them 
In my bedchamber. 

Iai:/i. They are in a tnink, 



ACT I. Scene 0. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT II. Soene L 



Attended by my men: I will make bold 
To send them to you, only for this night; 
I must aboard to-morrow. 

Imo, O, no, no. 

lack. Yes, I beseech; or I shall short my 
word 200 

By lengthening my return. From Oallia 
I cross'd the seas on purpose and on promise 
To see your grace. 

Imo. I thank you for your pains: 



But not away to-morrow! 

lack, O, I must, madam: 

Therefore I shall beseech you, if you please 
To greet your lord with writing, do't to-night: 
I have outstood' my time; which is material 
To the tender of our present 

Imo, I will write. 

Send your trunk to me; it shall safe be kept, 
And truly yielded you. You 're very welcome. 

[Exeunt, 



ACT IL 



Scene I. Britain. Court before Cyinhelin^s 

palace. 

Enter Cloten and two Lords. 

Clo, Was there ever man had such luck! 
when I kiss'd the jack upon an up-cast,' to be 
hit away! I had a hundred pound on't: and 
then a whoreson jackanapes must take me up 
for swearing; as if I borrowed mine oaths of 
him, and might not spend them at my pleasure. 

First Lord, What got he by that? You 
have broke his pate with your bowL 8 

Sec. Lord, \Aside\ If his wit had been like 
him that broke it, it would have run all out 

Clo, When a gentleman is disposed to swear, 
it is not for any standers-by to curtail his oaths, 
ha?3 

Sec. Lord. No, my lord; [onde] nor crop 
the ears of them. 

Clo. Whoreson dog! — I give him satisfaction? 
Would he had been one of my rank ! 17 

Sec. Lord. [Aeide] To have smelt like a fool. 

Clo. I am not vex'd more at any thing in 
the earth, — A pox on 't ! I had rather not be 
so noble as I am; they dare not fight with me, 
because of the queen my mother: every Jack- 
slave hath his bellyful of fighting, and I must 
go up and down like a cock that nobody can 
match. 

Sec. Lord. [Aside'\ You are cock and capon 
too; and you crow, cock, with your comb on. 

Clo. Sayestthou?* 27 

> Outttood, ouUUyed. 

* An up-cattf a throw or cast at bowls. 

* Haf eh? « Sayett thouf what do 70a lay? 

102 



Sec. Lord, It is not fit your lordship should 
undertake every companion^ that you give 
offence to. so 

Clo. No, I know that: but it is fit I should 
commit offence to my inferiors. 

Sec Lord, Ay, it is fit for your lordship 
only. 

Clo, Why, so I say. 

First Lord, Did you hear of a stranger that's 
come to court to-night? 

Clo, A stranger, and I not know on 't ! 

Sec. Lord [Aside] He's a strange fellow him- 
self, and knows it not 

First Lord. There's an Italian come; and, 
'tis thought, one of Leonatus' friends. 41 

Clo, Leonatus! a banish'd rascal; and he's 
another, whatsoever he be. Who told you of 
this stranger? 

First Lord. One of your lordship's pages. 

Clo, Is it fit I went to look upon him? is 
there no derogation in 't? 

Sec. Lord. You cannot derogate, my lord. 

Clo, Not easily, I think. 

Sec. Lord. [Aside] You are a fool granted; 
therefore your issues,^ being foolish, do not 
derogate. 52 

Clo. Come, I'll go see this Italian: what I 
have lost to-day at bowls I '11 win to-night of 
him. Ck)me, go. 

Sec. Lord. I '11 attend your lordship. 

[Exeunt Cloten and First Lord, 
That such a crafty devil as is his mother 
Should yield the world this ass! a woman that 



* Oumpanionf fellow. 



• /MUM. actlona. 



ACT II. Seene 1. 



CYMBELINK 



ACT IL Scene 2. 



Bears all down with her brain; and this her 
son 59 

Cannot take two from twenty, for his heart, 
And leave eighteen. Alas, poor princess, 
Thou divine Imogen, what thou endur'st. 
Betwixt a father by thy step-dame governed, 
A mother hourly coining plots, a wooer 
More hateful than the foul expulsion is 
Of thy dear husband, than that horrid act 
Of the divorce he 'd make! The heavens hold 

firm 

The walls of thy dear honour; keep unshak'd 

That temple, thy fair mind; that thou mayst 

stand, 69 

T enjoy thy banish'd lord and this great land! 

[Exit. 

Scs5E IL The same. Imoffen^s bedchamber in 
Cymbelin^i palace: a trunk in one comer 
ofiL 

IxoQEN in bedy reading; a Lady attending. 

Imo. Who's there? my woman Helen? 
Lady. Please you, madam. 

Imo, What hour is it? 

Lady. Almost midnight, madam. 

Itno. I have read three hours, then: mine 
eyes are weak: 
I^old down the leaf where I have left: to 

bed: 
Take not away the taper, leave it burning; 
And if thou canst awake by four o' the clock, 
I prithee, call me. Sleep hath seized me wholly. 

[Exit Lady. 
To your protection I commend me, gods! 
from fairies, and the tempters of the night. 
Guard me, beseech ye! lo 

[Sleeps. lachimo comes from the trunk. 
Idch. The crickets sing, and man's o'er- 
labour'd sense 
^paira itself by rest Our Tarquin thus 
IW softly press the rushes, ere he waken'd 
The chastity he wounded. — Cytherea,^ 
How bravely thou becom'st thy bed ! fresh 

lily! 

'^od whiter than the sheets! That I might touch! 
But kias; one kiss! — Bubies unparagon'd, 
Howdearly they do 't! — T is her breathing that 

1 Cytkerea, Venui. 



Perfumes the chamber thus: the flame o' the 

taper 
Bows toward her; and would under-peep her 

lids, 20 

To see th' enclosed lights, now canopied 
Under these windows,^ white and azure, lac'd 
With blue of heaven's own tiiict' — But my 

design. 
To note the chamber: I will write all down : — 
Such and such pictures; — there the window; — 

such 
Th' adornment of her bed; — the arras, figures. 
Why, such and such; — and the contents o' the 

story,— 
Ah, but some natural notes about her body. 
Above ten thousand meaner moveables 29 
Would testify, t' enrich mine inventory : — 
O sleep, thou ape of death, lie dull upon her! 
And be her sense but as a monument, 
Thus in a chapel lying I — Come off, come off; — 

[Taking off her bracelet. 
As slippery as the Gordian knot was hard ! — 
Tis mine; and this will witness outwardly, 
As strongly as the conscience does within, 
To the madding of her lord. — On her left 

breast 
A mole cinque-spotted, like the crimson drops 
I' the bottom of a cowslip: here 's a voucher, 
Stronger than ever law could make: this secret 
Will force him think I Ve pick'd the lock, and 

ta'en 4i 

The treasure of her honour. No more. To 

what end? 
Why should I write this down, that 's riveted, 
Screw'd to my memory? — she hath been read- 
ing late 
The tale of Tereus: here the leaf's tum'd down 
Where Philomel gave up.* — I have enough: 
To the trunk again, and shut the spring of 

it- 
Swift, swift, you dragons of the night, that 

dawning 
May bare* the raven's eye! I lodge in fear; 
Though this a heavenly angel, hell is here, so 

[Qock strikes. 
One, two, three, — ^Time, time! 

[Goes into the trunk. Scene closes. 



I Windowi, ie. the eyelids. 
* Gave up, yielded. 

103 



» Tinet, dye. 
• Bart, open. 



Scene III. The lame. An aiUe-ehamher ad- 
joining Itaogtn't upartmentt in the tame. 

Enter Clotes and Lord*. 

Firtt Lord. Your lordtihtp u the most patient 

man in logs, the moHt coldest that ever tum'd 

Clo, It would uiake any man cold to lose. 



LINE. ACT U. Ssous 3. 

Firtt Lord. But not every man patient after 
the noble temper of your lordship- You are 
moat hot and furious when you win. 

CVo. Winning will put any man into courage. 
If I could get this foolish Imogen, I should 
have gold enough. It's almost morning, u't 
iiatl ID 

Firit Lord. Day, my lord 



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ffl fc \i-^553Z 


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SiiiUn UhII by mt Oni Tuiiuln thiu 

Clo. I would this Riueic would come: lam 
advised to give her music o' mornings; they 
say it will jienetrate. — 

Enter Jiutieiam. 
Come ou; tune: if you can penetrat« her with 
your fingering, so; we'll try with tongue too: 
if none will do, let her remain; but I '11 never 
give o'er. First, a very excellent good-con- 
ceited thing; after, a wonderful sweet air, with 
admirable rich words to it, — and then let her 
consider, 20 

Hafk. borkl the lark at heaven's ^te siogB, 

And PbcebuB gins arise, 
Uii steeds to water at those springs 
104 



Ob chalic-d' flow 


rs that lies; 


And winking Mari--b 




To ope thoir gold 




With erery thing that pretty is. 


My lady sweet, arise; 



Clo. So, get you gone. If this penetrate, I 
will consider' your music the better: if it do 
not, it is a vice in her ears, which horse-bairs 
and calvea'-guts,' nor the voice of unpaved 
eunuch to boot, can never amend. 

[Ereunt ittuiciant. 



ACT II. Scene 8. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT IL Scene 8. 



Sec. Lord. Here comes the king. 

Clo. I am glad I was up so late; for that's 
the reason I was up so early; he cannot choose 
but take this service I have done fatherly. 

Enter Cm beline and Queen. 

Good morrow to your majesty and to my 
gracious mother. 4i 

(Sfnu Attend you here the door of our stem 
daughter? 
Will flhe not forth? 

do. I have assail'd her with musics,^ but 
dM TDochaaf es no notice. 

OjfWL Hie exile of her minion is too new; 
She liath not yet forgot him: some more time 
Muifc wear the print of his remembrance out, 
Atad tiben abe 's yours. 

^Miw, Ton are most bound to the king, 
Who kte go by no vantages that may 60 

FMer joa to his daughter. Frame yourself 
Toord«rly solicits,' and be friended 
WiHijqpiiieM of the season; make denials 
Timme your services; so seem as if 
Ton iriere inspired to do those duties which 
Ton tender to her; that you in all obey her, 
Bmiriieii command to your dismission tends, 
Aad tJierein you are senseless. 

(Xfk Senseless! not so. 

Enter a Messenger. 

Mm. So like you, sir, ambassadors from 
Borne; 

The one is Gains Lucius. 

Cym. A worthy fellow. 

Albeit he comes on angry purpose now; ei 
But that 's no fault of his: we must receive him 
According to the honour of his sender; 
And towards himself, his goodness forespent' 

on us, 
^e must extend our notice. — Our dear son, 
^en you have given good morning to your 

mistrefls, 
Att«nd the queen and us; we shall have need 
T employ you towards this Roman. — Come, 

our queen. [Exeunt all except Cloten. 

Clo. If she be up, I '11 speak with her; if not, 

^t her lie still and dream. — By your leave, 

hoi — [Knocks. 

> Mvgies, moflicUnt. s Solieiti, loIicitetionB. 

* FortapeiU, preYioailj bestowed. 



I know her women are about her: what n 
If I do line one of their hands? Tis gold 
Which buys admittance; oft it doth; yea, and 

makes 
Diana's rangers false themselves, yield up 
Their deer to the stand o' the stealer; and 't is 

gold 
Which makes the true-man kill'd, and saves 

the thief; 
Nay, sometime hangs both thief and true-man : 

wliat 
Can it not do and undo ? I will make 
One of her women lawyer to me; for 
I yet not understand the case myself. — so 
By your leave. [Knocks. 

Enter a Lady. 

Lady. Who's there that knocks? 

Clo. A gentleman. 

Lady. No more? 

Clo. Yes, and a gentlewoman's son. 

Lady. That 's more 

Than some, whose tailors are as dear as yours. 
Can justly boast of. What 's your lordship's 
pleasui*e ? 

Clo. Your lady's person: is she ready?* 

Lady. Ay, 

To keep her chamber. 

Clo. There is gold for you; 

Sell me your good report. 

Lady. Howl my good name? or to report 
of you 8» 

What I shall tliiuk is good? — The princess! 

Eivter Imogen. 

Clo. Good morrow, fairest: sister, your 
sweet hand. [Exit Lady. 

Imo. Good morrow, sir. You lay out too 
much pains 
For purchasing but trouble: the thanks I give 
Is telling you that I am poor of thanks. 
And scarce can spare them. 

Clo. Still, I swear I love you. 

Imo. If you but said so, 't were as deep with 
me:* 
If you swear still, your recompense is still 
That I regard it not. 

« lU<»dy, dreBsed. 

* 'Twere at deep with me, 'twould m«ke as much im- 
presaion on me. 

105 



ACT II. Soene 8. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT II. SottM a. 



Clo, This is no answer. 

Imo, But that you shall not say, I yield be- 
ing silent, 
I would not speak. I pray you, spare me : faith, 
I shall unfold equal discourtesy loi 

To your best kindness: one of your great 

knowing^ 
Should learn, being taught, forbearance. 
Clo, To leave you in your madness, *t were 
my sin: 
I will not. 
Imo, Fools cure not mad folks. 
Clo, Do you call me fool ? 

Imo, As I am mad, I do: 
If you '11 be patient, I '11 no more be mad; 
That cures us both. I am much sorry, sir, 
You put me to forget a lady's manners, no 
By being so verbal:' and learn now, for all. 
That I, which know my heart, do here pro- 
nounce, 
By the very truth of it, I care not for you; 
And am so near the lack of charity, — 
To accuse myself, — I hate you; which I had 

rather 
You felt than make 't my boast 

Clo. You sin against 

Obedience, which you owe your father. For 
The contract you pretend with that base 

wretch, — 
One bred of alms, and foster'd with cold dishes. 
With scraps o' the court, — it is no contract, 
none: 120 

And though it be allow'd in meaner parties — 
Yet who than he more mean ? — to knit their 

souls — 
On whom there is no more dependency' 
But brats and beggary — in self-figur'd* knot; 
Yet you are curVd from that enlargement^ by 
The consequence® o' the crown; and must not 

foiF 
The precious note of it with a base slave, 
A hilding for a livery,® a squire's cloth, 128 
A pantler,* not so eminent 
Imo. Pr6fane fellow! 



> Knotring, experience. « Verbal, outspoken. 

* A'o more dependency, nothing more dependent 
^ Self-figur'd, tied by themaelyes. 

* Enlargement, liberty. 

* Con9equence, succeuion. f Foil, defeat, mar. 

* A hilding for a livery, a menial only fit for a livery. 

* PanUer, pantry-man. 

106 



Wert thou the son of Jupiter, and no more 
But what thou art besides, thou wert too base 
To be his groom: thou wert dignified enough. 
Even to the point of envy, if 't were made 
Comparative for'^ your virtues, to be sty I'd 
The under-hangman of his kingdom ; and hated 
For being preferr'd" so welL 

Clo. The south-fog rot him! 

Imo, He never can meet more mischance 
than come isr 

To be but nam'd of thee. Hismeanest garment. 
That ever hath but clipp'd his body, is dearer 
In my respect than all the hairs above thee, 
Were they all made such men. 

Enter PiSAirio. 

How now, Piaanio! 

Clo, "His garment!" Now, the devil — 

Lno, To Dorothy my woman hie thee pre- 
sently — 148 

Clo, "His garment!" 

Imo, I am sprited" with a fool; 

Frighted, and anger'd worse: — go bid my wo- 
man 
Search for a jewel that too casually^ 
Hath left mine arm: it was thy master's; 

shrew me. 
If I would lose it for a revenue 
Of any king's in Europe. I do think 
I saw 't this morning: confident I am iso 
Last night 't was on mine arm; I kiss'd it: 
I hope it be not gone to tell my lord 
That I kiss aught but he. 

Pu, Twill not be lost 

Imo, I hope so: go and search. 

[Exit Puanio, 

Clo. You have abus'd me: — 

" His meanest garment!" 

Imo. Ay, I said so, sir: 

If you will make 't an action, call witness to 't 

Clo. I will inform your father. 

Imo. Your mother too: 

She 's my good lady; and will conceive, I hope. 
But the worst of me. So, I leave you, sir. 
To the worst of discontent [Exit, 

Clo, I '11 be reveng'd: — 

" His meanest garment!" — ^Well. [Exit. 

10 Comparative for, i.e. a comparative estimate of. 
" Freferr'd, promoted. is SpriiMd^ hanntad. 

M CaiwMy, accidentally. 



ACT IL SeeiM 4. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT IL 8otne 4. 



Scene IV. Rome, An apartment in Phi- 

lario^s hoiue. 

Enter Posthumcs and Philario. 

Port. Fear it not, sir: I would I were so sure 
To win the king, as I am bold her honour 
Will remain hers. 
Phi What means do you make to him? 
Past. Not any; but abide the change of 
time; 
Quake in the present winter's state, and wish 
That warmer days would come : in these f ear'd ^ 

hopes, 
I barely gratify your love; they failing, 
I must die much your debtor. 

Phi Your very goodness and your company 
Cerpays all I can do. By this, your king lo 
Hath heard of great Augustus: Caius Lucius 
Will do's commission throughly: and I think 
He'll grant the tribute, send th' arrearages. 
Or look upon our Romans, whose remembrance 
Ib yet fresh in their grief. 

Post. I do believe — 

Statist' though I am none, nor like to be — 
That this will prove a war; and you shall hear 
The legions now in Gallia sooner landed 
hi our not-fearing Britain than have tidings 
Of any penny tribute paid. Our countrymen 
Are men more order'd than when Julius Csesar 
Smil'd at their lack of skill, but found their 
courage 22 

Worthy his frowning at: their discipline 
Now mingled with their courages will make 

known 
To their approvers' they are people such 
^Riat mend upon the world.^ 
Phi Seel lachimo! 

Enter Iachimo. 

Pott. The swiftest harts have posted you by 
land; 
And winds of all the comers kiss'd your sails. 
To make your vessel nimble. 

Phi Welcome, sir. 



' Pmr'd, mingled with fear. 
' Statial, lUtMmao, politician. 
' ^ppnsen, thoM who make trial of them, their foei. 
*Mend iqwA tks Wfrld, get the upper hand of their 
Bdiliboora 



Post. I hope the briefness of your answer 
made 80 

The speediness of your return. 

lack. Your lady 

Is one of the fairest that I 've look'd upon. 

Post. And therewithal the best; or let her 
beauty 
liook through a casement to allure false hearts, 
And be false with them. 

Jack. Here are letters for you. 

Post. Their tenour good, I trust 

Jack T is very like. 

Phi Was Caius Lucius in the Britain court 
When you were there ? 

lack. He was expected then. 

But not approach'd. 

Post. All is well yet. — 89 

Sparkles this stone as it was wont? or is't not 
Too dull for your good wearing? 

lack. If I have lost it, 

I should have lost the worth of it in gold. 
I '11 make a journey twice as far, t' enjoy 
A second night of such sweet shortness which 
Was mine in Britain; for the ring is won. 

Post. The stone 's too hard to come by. 

la^L Not a whit, 

Your lady being so easy. 

Post. Make not, sir. 

Your loss your sport: I hope you know that we 
Must not continue friends. 

Jack. Good sir, we must. 

If you keep covenant Had I not brought 50 
The knowledge of your mistress home, I grant 
We were to question further: but I now 
Profess myself the winner of her honour. 
Together with your ring; and not the wronger 
Of her or you, having proceeded but 
By both your wills. 

Post. If you can make 't apparent* 

That you have tasted her in bed, my hand 
And ring is yours: if not, the foul opinion 
You had of her pure honour gains or loses 
Your sword or mine, or masterless leaves both 
To who shall find them. 

lack. Sir, my circumstances, 

Being so near the truth as I will make them. 
Must first induce you to believe: whose 
strength 0S 

* Apparent^ erident 
107 



ACT II. Scene 4. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT II. Seene 4. 



I will confirm with oath; which, I doubt not, 
You '11 give me leave to spare, when you shall 

find 
You need it not. 

Post Proceed. 

lack. First, her bedchamber, — 

Where, I confess, I slept not; but profess 
Had that was well worth watching, — it was 
hang'd 68 

With tapestry of silk and silver; the story 
Proud Cleopatra, when she met her Eoman, 
And Cydnus swell'd above the banks, or for 
The press of boats or pride: a piece of work 
So bravely done, so rich, that it did strive 
In workmanship and value; which I wondered 
Could be so rarely and exactly wrought. 
Since the true life on 't was — 

Post, This is true; 

And this you might have heard of here, by me 
Or by some other. 

lack. More particulars 

Must justify my knowledge. 

Post, So they must. 

Or do your honour injury. 

lack. The chimney 80 

Is south the chamber; and the chimney-piece 
Chaste Dian l>athing: never saw I figures 
So likely to report themselves:^ the cutter 
Was as another Nature, dumb; outwent her, 
Motion and breath left out. 

Post. This is a thing 

Which you might from relation likewise reap. 
Being, as it is, much 8{K>ke of. 

lack, Tlie roof o' the chamber 

With golden cherubius is fretted: her and- 
irons — 
1 hwl forgot them — were two winking Cupids 
Of silver, each on one foot standing, nicely 90 
Depending^ on their brands. 

Post. This is her honour! — 

Let it be granted you have seen all this, — and 

praise 
Be given to your remembrance, — the descrip- 
tion 
Of what is in her chamber nothing saves 
The wager you have laid. 

lack. Then, if you can, 

[Pulling out the bracelet. 

1 To report thevMelcei, to speak and ^ve an account of 
themaelvea. * Depending, leaning. 

108 



Be pale : I beg but leave to air this jewel ; see !~ 
And now 't is up' again: it most be married 
To that your diamond; I '11 keep them. 

Post, Jove I— 

Once more let me behold it: is it that M 

Which I left with her? 

lack. Sir, — I thank her, — that: 

She stripp'd it from her arm; I see her yet; 
Her pretty action did outsell^ her gift, 
And yet enrich'd it too: she gave it me, and 

said 
She priz'd it once. 

Post, May be she pluck'd it off 

To send it me. 

Jack. She writes so to you, doth shel 

Post. O, no, no, no ! 't is true. Here, take 
this too; [Oives the ring. 

It is a basilisk unto mine eye. 
Kills me to look on't — Let there be no honoui 
Where there is beauty; truth, where semblance; 
love, lof 

Where there 's anotlier man : the vows of women 
Of no more bondage* l)e, to where they're 

made. 
Than they are to their virtues; which is noth- 
ing.— 
O, above measure false! 

Phi. Have patience, sir. 

And take your ring again; 't is not yet won: 
It may be probable she lost it; or 
Who knows if one of her women, being cor- 
rupted. 
Hath stol'n it from her? 

Post. Very true; 

And so, I hope, he came by 't — Back my ring: 
Render to me some corporal sign about her, 
More evident than this; for this was stol'n. 

lach. By Jupiter, I had it from her arm. 

Post, Hark you, he swears; by Jupiter he 

swears. m 

*Tis true, — ^nay, keep the ring, — 'tis true: I'm 

sure 
She would not lose it: her attendants are 
All sworn and honourable: — they induc'd tc 

steal it ! 
And by a stranger! — ^No, he hath enjoy 'd her: 
Tlie cognizance* of her incontinency 

* Up, put up. pnt away. * OuUell, exceed In ralne. 

* Bondage, binding force, obligation. 

* CognuMnee, badge. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT IL a 



Is thiH,— ehe hath bought the name of whore 

thus dearly. — 
There, take thy hire; and all the fiends of 

heU 
Divide themaelvea between you! 

P^i. Sir, be patient: 

This i» not strong enough to be believed lui 
Of one persuaded well of.* 



Poit. Never talk on 't ; 

She hath been colted by him. 

latJi. If you seek 

For further satisfying, under her breast — 
Worthy the pressing ^ — lies a mole, right 

Of that most delicate lodging: by my life, 
1 kiss'd it; and it gave ue present hunger 




To (eed again, though full. You do remember 

lUa stain upon her? 
Pm. Ay, and it dotii confirm 

Another stain, as big as hell can hold, iM 

Were there no more but it. 
lach. Will you bear morel 

Pm. Spare your arithmetic: never count 
the turns; 

Once, and a million! 
lacA. I 'U be sworn— 

Pott. No swearing. 

Ifyou will ewear you have not done 't, you lie; 



n ptmadtd tnti i^ 






And I will kill thee, if thou dost deny 
Thou'st made me cuckold. 

lack. I '11 deny nothing. 

Poit. 0, that I had her here, t« tear her 
limb- meal ! 
I will go there and do't; i' tlie court; before 
Her father:— I 'II do something- [Exit. 

I'ki. Quite besides 

The government of patience! — You have won: 

Let's follow him, and pervert* the present 

wrath ui 

He bath against himself, 

lack. With all my heart [Exeunt. 

> Pintrt. •vort. 



ACT II. Scene 5. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT IIL Bene 1. 



Scene y. The same. Another room in the same. 

Enter Posthumus. 

Post. Is there no way for men to be, but 
women 
Must be half -workers? We are all bastards: 
And that most venerable man which I 
Did call my father, was I know not where 
When I was stamp'd ; some coiner with his 

tools 
Made me a counterfeit: yet my mother seem'd 
The Dian of that time: so doth my wife 
The nonpareil of this. — O, vengeance, ven- 
geance! — 
Me of my lawful pleasure she restrained, o 
And prayed me oft forbearance; did it with 
A pudency* so rosy, the sweet view on't 
Might well have warm'd old Saturn; that I 

thought her 
As chaste as unsunn'd snow: — O, all the 

devils! — 
This yellow lachimo, in an hour,— was *t not? — 
Or less, — at first? — perchance he spoke not, 

but, 
Like a full-acom'd boar, a German one, 



Cried, "O!"' and mounted; found on opposi- 
tion 
But what he looked for should oppose, and she 
Should from encounter guard. — Gould I find 

out 
The woman's part in me! For there's no 
motion' 20 

That tends to vice in man, but I affirm 
It is the woman's part: be 't lying, note it, 
The woman's; flattering, hers; deceiving, hers; 
Lust and rank thoughts, hers, hers; revenges, 

hers; 
Ambitions, coveting8,change of prides,^ disdain^ 
Nice^ longing, slanders, mutability. 
All faults that may be nam'd, nay, that hell 

knows. 
Why, hers, in part or all; but rather, aU; 
For even to vice » 

They are not constant, but are changing still 
One vice, but of a minute old, for one 
Not half so old as that I 'U write against 

them,® 
Detest them, curse them : — yet 't is greater skill 
In a true hate, to pray they have their will: 
The very devils cannot plague them better. 

[Exa. 



ACT IIL 



Scene I. Britain. A room of state in 
Cyiiibelin^s palace. 

Enter in state Ctmbeline, Queen^ Gloten, and 
Lords at one door; and at another Gaiub 
Lucius and Attendants. 

Cym. Now say, what would Augustus Gsesar 

with us? 
Luc. When Julius Cwsar — whose remem- 
brance yet 
Lives in men's eyes, and will to ears and 

tongues 
Be theme and hearing ever — was in this Britain 
And conquer'd it, Cassibelan, thine uncle, — 
Famous in Gsesjir's praises, no whit less 
Than in his feats deserving it, — for him 
And his succession granted Rome a tribute, 

1 Pudency, modesty. 
110 



Yearly three thousand pounds; which by thee 
lately » 

Is left untender'd. 

Queen. And, to kill the marvel^ 

Shall be so ever. 

Clo. There be many Gsesars, 

Ere such another Julius. Britain is 
A world by itself; and we will nothing pay 
For wearing our own noses. 

Queen. That opportunity^ 

Which then they had to take from 's, to resume 
We have again. — Remember, sir, my liege. 
The kings your ancestors; together with 



3 0/ the grunt of a boar it intended, 
s Motion^ impuUe. 

* Change qf pride; capridonily changing one extrara- 
gance for another. * Aiee, ■qaeamiah. 

* Write againit them, put down my name on the aid* 
opposed to them, and to protest againit theoL 



ACTUL Soena L 



C?YMBELINE. 



ACT III. Scene 2. 



The natural bravery of your isle, which stands 
As Neptune's park, ribbed and paled in 
With rocks unscalable and roaring waters; 
With sands that will not bear your enemies' 

boats, 21 

Bat suck them up to the topmast A kind of 

conquest 
Cesar made here; but made not here his brag 
Of ^Came, and saw, and overcame:" with 

shame — 
The first that ever touch'd him — he was carried 
From off our coast, twice beaten; Qand his 

shipping — 

Poor ignorant baubles ! — on our terrible seas, 

) lake egg-shells mov'd upon their surges, crack'd 

jAa easily 'gainst our rocks :] for joy whereof 

The fam'd Cassibelan, who was once at point — 

giglet^ Fortune ! — to master Caesar's sword. 

Made Lud's-town* with rejoicing fires bright, 

And Britons strut with courage. 33 

do. QCome, there's no more tribute to be 

paid: our kingdom is stronger than it was at 

';th&t time; and, as I said, there is no moe such 

fCRsars: other of them may have crook'd noses; 

/but to owe such straight arms, none. 

', Cywi. Son, let your mother end. 39 

5 Clo. We have yet many among us can gripe 

;u hard as Cassibelan: I do not say I am one; 

Ibat I havea hand. — ] Why tribute? why should 

^e pay tribute ? If Ctesar can hide the sun 

from us with a blanket, or put the moon in 

big pocket, we will pay him tribute for light; 

«ke, sir, no more tribute, pray you now. 

Qrm. You must know, 
"nil the injurious Romans did extort 
This tribute from us, we were free : Caesar's 

ambition, — 
j[ Which swell'd so much, that it did almost 



J' 



stretch 50 

jThe sides o' the world, — against all colour,^ 

here] 
Wd put the yoke upon 's; which to shake off 
^*comes a warlike people, whom we reckon 
^^urselves to be. 
Clo. mid Lords. We do. 
Ci/m, Say, then, to Ctesar, 

^ ancestor was that Mulmutius which 

* Oigkt, fickle, like a glglet or harlot. 
' IftuTj-totpn, London. 

* Againat all colour, contrary to all ihow of right 



Ordain'd our laws, — ^whose use the sword of 

Caesar 
Hath too much mangled; whose repair and 

franchise^ 
Shall, by the power we hold, be our good deed, 
Though Rome be therefore angry;— QMul-; 
mutius made our laws, 50 ! 

Who was the first of Britain which did put 
His brows within a golden crown, and call'd 
Himself a king.j] 

Luc. I 'm sorry, C^-mbeline, 

That I am to pronounce Augustus Caesar — 
Caesar, that hath moe kings his servants than 
Thyself domestic officers — thine enemy: 
Receive it from me, then: — war and confusion 
In Caesar's name pronounce I 'gainst thee: look 
For fury not to be resisted. — Thus defied, 
I thank thee for myself. 

Q C^m. Thou 'rt welcome, Caius. 

Thy Caesar knighted me; my youth I spent 
Much under him; of him I gather'd honour; 
Which he to seek* of me again, perforce, 72' 
Behoves me keep at utterance.® I am perfect^ 
That the Pannonians and Dalmatians for 
Their liberties are now in arms, — ^a precedent! 
Which not to read would show the Britons cold : 
So Caesar shall not find them. 

Luc. Let proof speak.]! 

Clo. His majesty bids you welcome. Make 
pastime with us a day or two, or longer: if you 
seek us afterwards in other terms, you shall 
find us in our salt-water girdle: if you beat 
us out of it, it is yours; if you fall in the ad- 
venture, our crows shall fare the better for 
you; and there's an end. 

Luc. So, sir. 

Cy»*. I know your master's pleasure, and he 
mine: 
All the remain® is, welcome. [Exeunt. 

Scene II. The same. Another roo?n in the same. 

Enter Pisa nig, with a letter. 

Pis. How! of adultery? Wherefore write 
you not 
What monster 's her accuser? — Leonatus! 
O master ! what a strange infection 

* FranchiUt free exerclie. • To seek, seeking. 

* Keep at uUeraHce^ defend to the uttermost. 

' Perfect, well informed. • lUmain, remainder. 

Ill 



ACT IIL Scene 2. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT III. Soene S. 



Is falPn into thy ear I What false Italian, 
As poiBonous-tougu'd as handed, hath prevailed 
On thy too ready hearing? — Disloyal ! No ; 
She 's punish'd for her truth; and undergoes,^ 
More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults 
As would take in* some virtue. — O my master ! 
Thy mind to' her is now as low as were lo 
Thy fortunes. — How ! that I should murder her? 
Upon the love, and truth, and vows, which I 
Have made to thy command? — I, her? — her 

blood? 
If it be so to do good service, never 
Let me be counted serviceable. How look I, 
That I should seem to lack humanity 
So much as this fact* comes to? [Reading] "Do't: 

the letter 
That I have sent her, by her own command 
Shal 1 give thee opportunity :" — O damn'd paper ! 
Black as the ink that's on thee! Senseless 

bauble, 20 

Art thou a fedary*^ for this act, and look'st 
So virgin-like without? — Lo, here she comes. — 
I 'm ignorant in what I am commanded. 

Enter Imogen. 

Imo. How now, Pisanio ! 

Pis, Madam, here is a letter from my lord. 

Imo. Who? thy lord? that is my lord, — 

Leonatus? 
O, leam'd indeed were that astronomer 
That knew the stars aj9 1 his characters; 
He 'd lay the future open. — You good gods. 
Let what is here contained relish of love, so 
Of my lord's health, of his content, — yet not 
That we two are asunder, — let that grieve 

him, — 
Some griefs are med'cinable;^ that is one of 

them, 
For it doth physic love; — of his content 
All but in that! — Good wax, thy leave: — 

bless'd be 
You bees that make these locks of counsel !^ 

Lovers, 
And men in dangerous bonds, pray not alike: 
Though forfeiters* you cast in prison, yet 88 



* Take in, tubdae. 

* Faetf evil deed. 



1 Undergoe$, bean up against, 
s TOf compared to. 

* Fedary, accomplice. 

*Med'einablef medicinal. 7 Countel, secrecy. 

* For/eitertf those who forfeit their sealed bond. 

112 



You clasp young Cupid's tables.* — Good news, 
gods ! [Beads, 

" Justice, and your father's wrath, should he take 
me in his dominion, could not be so cruel to me, ai 
you, the dearest of creatures, would even renew 
me with your eyes. Take notice that I am in C!ambria, 
at Milford-Haven : what your own lore will, out oi 
this, advise you, follow. So, he wishes you all happi< 
nesB, that remains loyal to his vow, and your, increas* 
ing in love, Leonatus Posthumus." 

O, for a horse with wings! — Hear'st thou, 
Pisanio? sc 

He is at Milford-Haven: read, and tell me 
How far 't is thither. If one of mean affairs 
May plod it in a week, why may not I 
Glide thither in a day ? — Then, true Pisanio,— 
Who long'st, like me, to see thy lord; who 

long'st, — 
O, let mebate,*** — but not like me ;~y et long'st,— 
But in a fainter kind; — O, not like me; 
For mine's beyond beyond, — say, and speak 

thick,"— 
Love's counsellor should fill the bores of hear- 
ing, . fiS 
To the smothering of the sense, — how far it ie 
To this same blessed Milf ord : and, by the way, 
Tell me how Wales was made so happy as 
T" inherit such a haven: but, first of all. 
How we may steal from hence; and for the gap 
That we shall make in time, from our hence- 
going 
And our return, t' excuse: — but first, how get 

hence: 
Why should excuse be bom or e'er begot? 
We '11 talk of that hereafter. Prithee, speak, 
How many score of miles may we well ride 
'Twixt hour and hour? 

Pis. One score 'twixt sun and sun, 

Madam, 's enough for you, and too much too. 

Imo. Why, one that rode to's execution, 



man. 



7S 



Could never go so slow: I 've heard of riding 

wagers. 
Where horses have been nimbler than thesande 
That run i' the clock's behalf: — but this ifi 

foolery: — 
Go bid my woman feign a sickness; say 
She 11 home to her father: and provide me pre- 
sently 



» Tablet^ tablets, letters. 
10 Bate, qualify what I say. 



" Thick, fast 



ACT ni. Soane 2. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT III. Some S. 



A riding-suit, no costlier than would fit 78 
A franklin's^ housewife. 

Pis, Madam, you 're best consider. 

Imo, I see before me, man : nor here, nor here, 
Nor what ensues, but have a fog in them. 
That I cannot look through. Away, I prithee; 
Do as I bid thee: there 's no more to say; 
Accessible is none but Milford way. [Exeunt, 

Scene III. The same. Wales: a mountainous 
country icith a cave. 

Enter, from the cave, Belarius; then Gui- 
DERius and Arviraous. 

Be!. A goodly day not to keep house, with 

such 
Whose roof 's as low as ours I Stoop, boys: this 

gate 
Instructs you how V adore the heavens, and 

bows you 
Toamoming's holy office: the gates of monarch^ 
Arearch'd sohigh, that giants may jet ^ through 
And keep their impious turbans on, without 
<jood morrow to the sun. — Hail, thou fair 

heaven! 
We house i' the rock, yet use thee not so hardly 
As prouder livers do. 
Oui Hail, heaven! 

A.rv. Hail, heaven! 

Bd. Now for our mountain sport: up to 

yond hill, lo 

Your legs are young; I '11 tread these flats. 

Consider, 
When you above perceive me like a crow, 
That it is place which lessens and sets off; 
And you may then revolve what tales I Ve told 

you 
Of courts, of princes, of the tricks in war: 
[This service is not service, so being done, 
^t being so allow'd: to ap])rehend thus, 
Draws lis a profit from all things we see; ] 
And often, to our comfort, shall we find 
TTie sharded^ beetle in a safer hold* ao 

'Hian is the full-wing'd eagle. [O, this life 
1^ nobler than attending^ for a check,** 
Wcher than doing nothing for a babe. 



* ^ /rantUn, a yeoman. s Jet. strat. 
' Shardedf proTlded with ■hardi, or wing-cases. 
*ffoU. stronghold. 

* ^tending, doing service. 

VOL. VIL 



* Cheek, reprooi 



Prouder than rustling in unpaid-for silk: ) 
Such gain the cap of him that makes 'em fine, ' 
Yet keeps his book^ uncross'd: no life to ours.] 
Oui, Out of your proof* you speak : we, poor 
unfledg'd. 
Have never wing'd from view o' the nest^ nor 

know not 
What air 's from ® home. Haply this life is best, 
If quiet life be best; sweeter to you 30 

That have a sharper known; well corresponding 
With your stiff age: but unto us it is 
A cell of ignorance; travelling a-bed; 
A prison for a debtor, that not dares 
To stride a limit.*^ 

Ari\ Wliat should we speak of 

When we are old as you^ when we shall hear 
The rain and wind beat dark December, how. 
In tliis our pinching cave, shall we discourse 
The freezing hours away'^ We have seen no- 
thing; 39 
We are bejistly;*^ subtle as the fox for prey; 
Like warlike as the wolf for what we eat: 
Our valour is to chase what flies; our cage 
We make a quire, as doth the prison'd bird. 
And sing our bondage fi*eely. 

JJel. How you speak! 

Did you but know the city's usuries, 
And felt them knt)wingly : the art o' the court. 
As hard to leave as keep; whose top to climb 
Is ceitain falling, or s<.> slippery that 
The fear 's as ba<l as falling: the toil o' the war, 
A pain ^2 ^liat only seems to seek out danger 
I' the name of fame and honour, which dies i' 
the search, 51 

And hath as oft a slanderous epitaph 
As record of fair act; nay, many times 
Doth ill deserve ^•'' by doing well; what 's worse. 
Must court'sy at the censure: — O boys, this 

storv 
The world may read in me: my body 's mark'd 
With Roman swords; and my rejwrt was once 
First with the best of note: C^Tnbeline lov'd 

me; 
And when a soldier was the theme, my name 

7 His book, i.e. his ledger. 

« Out of your jtroof, from your experience. 

» From, away from. 

10 To stride a limit, to orerpass his bound. 

11 Beantly, beast-like. 

12 A pit in, a labour or trouble. 

i> De$erve, get as its reward, earn. 

113 174 



CYMBELINE. 



AcriiL s 



Was not far off: then was I bh & tree so 

Whose bougha did bend with fruit: but in one 

night, 
A storm ov robbery, call it what you will. 
Shook down my mellow hanffings,* nay, my 

And left me bare to weather. 



Oui. Uncertain fttvoiu 

Bel. My fault being nothing,— a» I Ve tol 

you oft,— I 

But that two villaina, whoae ttiae oaths pn 

Before my perfect honour, swore to C^mbebn 
I was confederate with the Bomans: bo. 







W') 


/ KO\ iLA 


f^ ^ :. 


^ / x^ 


mM 


s^ 1 1 


m^ 


,^^^ — -^jB^^trWmi 




kA^m^h 


















ima "'^^ 


^^Ci^MM^^^^BS 


^^ ji^^ " 1 ^^IH 


EH^^^ 


»'^a»J?ti-^'i'"=--^^5^^^^ffi 


^F5fe vfjte" 


Hp 


■i&s: — ^Vi^ ■■ " " " 


^^^K^^Hi 


0^^^^ 


^^LfflaS/ '" — — - "-- 


— ^^^Ti^sS 


gH^^^ 


•'^ ^lP5^,£^;:i<3^- 


^-j;in-^^« 


^^^^ 



Follow'd my baniahment; and, this twenty 

years, 
This rock and these demesnes have been my 

world: TO 

Where I have liv'd at honest freedom; paid 
More pious debts to heaven than in all 
The fore-end' of my time. — But, up to the 



This is not huntent' languaj^e: — he tliat strikes 
The venison first shall be the lord o' the feast; 
To him the other two shall minister; 

■nJL ■ Fcn-fHcI. «trller purt 



An<l we will fear uo poison, which attends 
In place of greater state. I '11 meet you in th 

valleys, \Exe«at IJuideriutandArviragm 
How hard it is to hide the s{iarks of nature! 
These boys know Uttle they are sons to the king 
Nor (.'ymbeline rlreams that tliey are alive. 
They think they're mine; and, though traia'i 

up thus meanly * 

I' the cave wherein they bow, their thought 

do hit 
The roofs of pakces; and nature prompts then 
In simple and low things, to prince it mud) 
Beyond the trick of others. This Polydore,- 



ACT III. SouM a. 



CYMBEUNE. 



ACT III. Soene 4. 



The heir of CTmbeliiie and Britain, who 87 
The king his father call'd Gniderius, — Jove! 
When on my three-foot stool I ait, and tell 
The warlike feats I 've done, his spirits fly out 
hto my story: say, "Thus mine enemy fell. 
And thus I set my foot on 's neck;" even then 
The princely blood flows in his cheek, he sweats, 
Strains his young nerves, and puts himself in 

posture 
That acts my words. The younger brother, 

C^wal, — 
Once Arviragus, — in as like a figure, 
Strikes life into my speech, and shows much 

more 
His own conceiving. — Hark, the game is 

rous'd! — 
OCymbeline! heaven and my conscience knows 
Thoa didst unjustly banish me: whereon, lOO 
At three and two years old, I stole these babes; 
Thinking to bar thee of succession, as 
rhoa reft'st me of my lands. Euri]>hile, 
Thoa wast their nurse; they took thee for their 

mother. 
And every day do honour to her grave: 
Myaelf, Belarius, that am Morgan calPd, 
They take for natural father. — The game is up. 

[Exit. 

Scute IV. The same. Near Mil ford- Haven. 

Enter Pisanio and Imogen. 

/«o. Thou told'st me, when we came from 
horse, the place 
Was near at hand: — ne'er long'd my mother so 
Toaee me first, as I have now: — Pisanio I niiin! 
^ere is Posthiimus? What is in thy mind, 
That makes thee stare thus ? Wherefore breaks 

that sigh 
From th* inward of thee? One, but painted 

thus, 
^ould be interpreted a thing perplexed 
Beyond aelf-explication: put thyself 
Into a haviour of less fear, ere wildness 
Vanquish my staider senses. What 's the mat- 
ter? 10 
^y tender'st thou that paper to me, with 
^ look untender I If 't be summer news. 
Smile to't before; if winterly, thou neeil'st 
Batkeepthatcouutenance still. — My husband's 
hand! 



That di*ug-damn'd Italy hath out-craf tied him. 
And he 's at some hard point. — Speak, man: 

thy tongue 
May take oif some extremity,^ which to read 
Would be even mortal to me. 

Pis. Please you, read; 

And you shall find me, wretched man, a thing 
The most disdain'd of fortune. 20 

Imo. [Reads] "Thy mistress, Pisanio, hath play'd 
the strumpet Qin my bed 3; the testimonies whereof 
lie bleeding in me. I speak not out of weak surmises; 
but from proof as strong as my grief, and as certain 
as I expect my revenge. That part thou, Pisanio, 
must act for mo, if thy faith be not tainted with the 
breach of hers. Let thine own hands take away her 
life: I shall give thee opportunity at Milford-HaTen: 
she hath my letter for the purpose: where, if thou 
fear to strike, and to make me certain it is done, thou 
art the pander to her dishonour, and equally to me 
disloyal." S3 

PU. What shall I need to draw my sword? 

the i>ai)er 
Hath cut her throat already. — No, 'tis slander; 
Whose eilge is sharper than the sword; whose 

tongue 
Outvenoms all the worms of Nile; whose 

breath 
Bides on the jx>sting winds, and doth })elie 
All comers of the worUl: kings, queens, and 

states, 
Maids, matrons, nay, the secrets of the gi'ave 
Tliis vii)erous slander enters, — What cheer, 

madam I 41 

Imo. False to his beii! What is it to be 

false ? 
To lie in watch there, and to think on him ? 
To weep 'twixt clock and clock ? if sleep charge 

nature. 
To breiik it with a fearful dream of liim. 
And cry myself awake ? that's false to 's bed, 

is it? 
Pis. Alas, good lady I 
Imo. I false I Thy conscience witness: — 

lachimo. 
Thou didst accuse him of incontinency; 4u 
Tliou then look'dstlikeavillain; now,methinks. 
Thy favour's good enough. — Some jay of Italy, 
Whose mother was her painting, hath betray'd 

him: 



1 Extremity^ i.t. of pain. 
115 



ACT III. Soen^ 4. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT III. 



Poor I am stale, a garment out of fashion; 
And, for I'm richer than to hang by the walls, 
I must be ripp'd: — to pieces with me I — O, 
Men's vows are women's traitors! ^Ah good 

seeming, 
By thy revolt, O husband, shall be thought 
Put on for villany; not bom where 't grows, 
But worn a bait for ladies. 
Pis. Good madam, hear me. 

Imo. True honest men being heard, like false 

JSneas, 60 

Were, in his time, thought false; and Sinon's 

weeping 
Did scandal many a holy tear, took^ pity 
From most true wretchedness : so thou, Post- 
humus, 
Wilt lay the leaven on* all proper men; 
Goodly and gallant shall be false and perjur'd 
From thy great fail. — ] Come, fellow, be thou 

honest: 
Do thou thy master's bidding: when thou see'st 

him, 
A little witness my obedience: look! 68 

I draw the sword myself: take it, and hit 
The iimocent mansion of niv love, mv heart: 
Fear not; 't is empty of all things but grief: 
Tliy master is not there ; who was, indeed, 
Tlie riches of it: do his bidding; strike. 
Thou mayat be valiant in a better cause; 
But now thou seem'st a coward. 

Pu. Hence, vile instrument ! 

Thou shalt not damn mv hand. 

Imo, Why, I must die; 

And if I do not by thy hand, thou art 
No servantof thy master's : 'gainst self -slaughter 
There is a prohibition so di\'ine 
Tliat cravens my weak hand. Come, here's 

my heart: — so 

Something's afore 't: — soft, soft! we'll no 

defence; 
Obedient as the scabbard. — What is here" 
The scriptures of the loyal Leonatus 
All turn'd to heresy? Away, away, 
C/orrupters of my faith ! you shall no more 
Be stomachers to my heart Tlius may poor 

fools 
Believe false teachers: though those that are 

betray'd 

1 Took, took away. 

* Lay the leaven on, vitiate, corrupt. 

116 



Do feel the treason sharply, yet the traitor 
Stands in worse case of woe. And thou. Post 

hiimus, 
That didst set up' « 

My disobedience 'gainst the king my father, 
And make me put into contempt the suits 
Of princely fellows,* shalt hereafter find 
It is no act of common passage,^ but 
A strain of rareness:^ and I grieve myself 
To think, when thou shalt be disedg'd by he 
That now thou tir'st on,^ how thy memory 
Will then be pang'd by me. — Prithee, dispatch 
The lamb entreats the butcher: where 's th^ 
knife? 9 

Thou art too slow to do thy master's bidding 
When I desire it too. 

Pis. O gracious lady, 

Since I receiv'd command to do this businesfi 
I have not slept one wink. 

Imo. Do 't, and to bed then 

Pis. I '11 wake mine eyeballs blind first. 

Imo, Wherefore, then 

Didst undertake it? ^Why hast thou abus'c 
So many miles with a pretence? this place? 
Mine action,® and thine own? our horses' labour 
The time inviting thee? the i>erturb'd court 
For my being absent, whereunto I never 
Purpose return ? Why hast thou gone so far 
To be unbent when thou hast ta'en thy stand 
Th' elected deer before thee ? ] 

Pis. But* to win tim< 

To lose so bad employment; in the which 
I have consider'd of a course. Good lady. 
Hear me with patience. 

Imo. Talk thy tongue weary; speak 

I 've heard I am a strumpet; and mine ear, 
Therein false struck, can take no greater wound 
Nor tent to bottom that.*° But' speak. 

Pis. Then, madam 

I thought you would not back again. 

Imo. Most like 

Bringing me here to kill me. 

Pis. Not so, neither 

But if I were as wise as honest, then 12; 

s Set up, instigate. * Fellowt, equals. 

* Common pateage, ordinary occurrence. 
.4 itrain ofrareneM, a rare impulse or djspoaition. 
' That now thou tir'nt on, on whom thou art now k 
eagerly set 
s Action, exertion. * JSvit, only. 

10 Nor tent to bottom that, nor probe that to the bottom. 



CYMBELINE. 



ilj pnrpoae would prgve well. It ctumot be 
Bat Uwit my iiuut«r is abiu'd; i^a 

Some villain, ay, and sii^pilar in his art, 
Hith done you both this ciirsed injury. 

/mo. Some Komau courtezan. 

Pit No, on my life. 



1 11 give but notice you are dead, and send 

Some bloody sign of it; for 't is commanded 
I should do so: you shall be miss'd at court, 
And that will well coufiim it. 

Imo. Why, good fellow. 




Whatiball I do the while! where bidel how 
liTef 131 

Or in my life what comfort, when I am 
Dead to my husband? 

Pit. If you 'II back to the court, — 

Imo. No court, no father; nor no more ado 
With thatharah, nothing noble, simple nothing, 
That Cloten, whose love-suit hath been to me 
Aa fearful as a sie(,'e. 

fU. If not at conrt, 

Then not in Britain must you bide. 

'/mo; Where then T 



Hath Britain all the sun that shinest Day, 

night, 
Are Uiey not but in Britain? I' the world's 

volume IM 

Our Britain aeems as of it, but not in 't; 
In a great pool a swan's nest: prithee, think 
There 's livers out of Britain. 

I'u. I 'm most glad 

You think of other jilace. Tb' ambassador, 
Lucius the Roman, comes to Milford-Haven 
To-morrow: now, if you could wear a mind 
Dark as your fortune is, and but disguise 
117 



ACT III. SouM 4. 



CYMBELINK 



AcrnL 



That which, f appear itself, must not yet be 
But by self-danger,^ you should tread a course 
Pretty and full of view; yea, haply, near iso 
The residence of Posthtimus, — so nigh at least 
That though his actions were not visible, yet 
Kepoit should render him hourly to your ear 
As truly as he moves. 

/mo. O, for such means ! 

Though peril to my modesty, not death on % 
I would adventure.* 

Pis. Well, then, here *s the point: 

You must forget to be a woman; change 
) Command into obedience^ ; fear and niceness^ — 
/ The handmaids of all women, or, more truly, 

< Woman it* pretty self — into a waggish courage; 
^ Heady in gibes, quick-answered, saucy, and 

^ As quarrelous as the weasel; nay, you must 

< Forget that rarest treasure of your cheek, 

j Exposing it— but, O, the harder heart I 164 

< Alack, no remedy I — to the greedy touch 
J Of common-kissing Titan;* and forget 

^ Your laboursome and dainty trims,*^ wherein 
^ You made great Juno angry]. 

Imo. Nay, be brief: 

I see into thy end, and am almost 
A man already. 

Pis. First, make yourself but like one. 

Fore-thinking this, I have already fit — in 

;Q'T is in my cloak-bag — doublet, hat, hose, all 

'.Tliat answer to them:] would you, in their 

serving,^ 
And with what imitation you can borrow 
From youth of such a season,* 'fore noble Lucius 
Present yourself, desire his service, tell him 
Wherein you 're hap})y,' — which you '11 niiike 

him know, 
If that his head have ear in music, — doubtless 
With joy he will embi'ace you; for he 's honour- 
able, 
And, doubling that, most holy.*** Your means 
abroad, iso 

You have me, rich; and I will never fail 
Beginning nor supplyment.^^ 

1 Self-danger, d«Dger to itself. 
3 Adventure, run the risk. 

* NieeneM, coyness. * It, its. 

* Titan, the sun. • Trims, dresses. 
7 Jh their »erving, with the help they give. 

s Seaimm, period of ripeness, age. 

* Happy, gifted. lu Htily, virtuous. 
11 Sttpplyment, continuance of supply. 

118 



Imo, Thou 'rt all the c 

The gods will diet me with. Q Prithee, 
There 's more to be consider'd; but we* 
All that good time wiU give us:] this a 
I 'm soldier to, and will abide it with 
A prince's courage. Away, I prithee. 

Pis. Well, madam, we must take i 
farewell. 
Lest, being miss'd, I be suspected of 
Your carriage from the court. My 

mistress, 
Here is a box; I had it from the queei 
Wliat 's in 't is j)recious; if you 're sick 
Or stomach-qualm'd at land, a dram oi 
Will drive away di8temj)er. — To some 
And fit you to your manhood: — may tl 
Direct you to the best ! 

Imo, Amen: I thank thee. [J 

ScENB V. The same. A room in Cyml 

palace. 

EtUer Ctmbeline, Queen, Cloten, Li 

and Lords. 

^Ci/m. Thus far; and so, farewell 

Luc. Thanks, ro 

My emi>eror liath wrote, I must from 
And am right soiiy that I must report 
My master's enemy. 

Cpn. Our subjects, sir, 

Will not endure his yoke; and for our 
To show less sovereignty than they 

needs 
Appear unkiuglike. 

Lvc. So, sir: I desire 

A conduct overland to Milford-Haven. 
Madam, all joy befall your grace ! 

Queen. At 

Cywi. My lords, you are apjwinted i 
office; 
Tlie due of honour in no |x>int omit.— 
So, fju'ewell, noble Lucius. 

Luc. Your hand, n 

Clo. Receive it friendly ; but from tl 
forth 
I wear it as your enemy. 

Luc. Sir, the eve 

Ih vet to name the winner: fare vou i» 

Ci/m. Leave not the worthy Luciu 
my lords, 



ACT UI. SoeiM 5. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT III. Scene 5. 



Till he have croas'd the Severn. — Happiness I 

[Exeunt Litcius and Lords, 
Queen, He goes hence frowning: but it 
honours us 
That we have given him cause. 

CZo. Tis all the better; 

Your valiant Britons have their wishes in it. 
Cym. Lucius hath wrote already to the em- 
peror 21 
How it goes here. It tits us therefore ripely* 
Our chariots and our horsemen be in readiness: 
The powers that he already hath in Gallia 
Will soon be drawn to head, from whence he 

moves 
His war for Britain. 

Queen. T is not sleepy business; 

But must l>e lfX)k'd to speedily and strongly. 
C*fm. Our expectation that it would be thus 
Hath made us forwanl. But, my gentle queen, 
Where is our daughter? She hath not ap- 
peared 80 
Before the Roman, nor to us hath tendered 
The duty of the day: she looks us* like 
A thing more made of malice than of duty: 
We've noted it. — CMl her before us; for 
; We Ve been too slight in sufferance.** 

[Exit an Attendant. 
Queen. Royal sir. 

Since th' exile of Posthumus, most retir'd 
Hath her life been; the cure whereof, my lord, 
Tig time must do. Beseech your majesty, 
Forbear sharp speeches to her: she 's a lady 
, So tender of rebukes, that words are strokes, 
And strokes death to her. 

Re-Jenter Attendant. 

Cpti. Where is she, sir? How 

Uu her contempt be answer'd? 

Attcn. Please you, sir, 

Her chambers are all lock'd; and there 's no 

answer 4S 

Hatwill be given to the loudest noise we make. 

Queen. My lord, when last I went to visit 
her. 
She pray'd me to excuse her keeping close; 
Whereto constrained by her infirmity, 
She should that duty leave unpaid to you, 

1 Kpely, urgently (the time being ripe for it). 

' ITi, to 01. 

' Too digkt in tuferanee^ too careleis In permitting it 



Which daily she was bound to proffer: this 
She wish'd me to make known; but our great 
court 60 

Made me to blame in memory. 

Ctftn. Her doors lock'd 1 

Not seen of late? Grant, heavens, that which 

I fear 
Prove false I [Ejnt. 

Queen. Son, I say, follow the king. 

Clo, That man of hers, Pisanio, her old ser- 
vant, 
I have not seen these two days. 

Queen. Go, look after. [Exit Cloten. 

Pisanio, thou that stand'st so for Posthtimus! — 
He hath a drug of mine; I pray his absence 
Proceed by swallowing that; for he believes 
It is a thing most precious. But for her. 
Where is she gone? Haply, despair hath seiz'd 
her; go 

Or, wing'd with fervour of her love, she's flown 
To her desir'd Posthiimus: gone she is 
To death or to dishonour; and my end 
Can make good use of either: she being down, 
I have the placing of the British crown. 

Re-enter Cloten. 

How now, my son I 

Clo. T is certain she is fled. 

Go in and cheer the king: he rages; none 
Dare come about him. 

Queen. [Aside] All the better: may 

This night forestall him of ^ the coming day ! 

[Exit. 

Clo. I love and hate her: for she 's fair and 
royal, 70 

And that she hath all courtly parts more ex- 
quisite 
Than Lady, ladies, woman; from every one 
The best she hath, and she, of all compounded. 
Outsells them all, — I love her therefore: but. 
Disdaining me, and throwing favours on 
The low Posthdmus, slanders so her judgment. 
That what 's else rare is chok'd; and in that 

point 
I will conclude to hate her, nay, indeed. 
To be reveng'd upon her. For, when fools 
ShaU— 



« ForeataU him qf, prevent him living to lee, deprive 
him of. 

119 



ACT IIL ScMM 6. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT III. SoBBW 5 



Enter Pisanio. 

Who is here? What, are you packing,^ 
sirrah? 80 

Come hither: ah, you precious pander! Vil- 
lain, 
Where is thy lady? In a word; or else 
Thou H straightway with the fiends. 

Pw. O, good my lord ! — 

Clo, Where is thy lady? or, by Jupiter — 
I will not ask again. Close ^ villain, 
I '11 have this secret from thy heart, or rip 
Thy heart to find it. Is she with Posthiimus? 
[ From whose so many weights of baseness 
k cannot 
^A dram of worth be drawn. ^ 

Pis. Alas, my lord, 

How can she be with him? When was she 
miss'd? 90 

He is in Rome. 

Clo. Where is she, sir? Come nearer; 

No further halting: satisfy me home 
What is become of her. 

Pis. O, my all- worthy lord ! — 

Clo. All-worthy villain ! 

Discover where thy mistress is «it once, 
At the next word, — ^no more of "worthy lord;" 
Speak, or thy silence on the instant is 97 

Thy condemnation and thy death. 

Pis. Then, sir. 

This paper is the history of my knowledge 
Touching her flight. \Prese7Vting a letter. 

Clo. Let 's see 't. — I will pursue her 

Even to Augustus' throne. 

Pis. [Aside'\ Or this, or perish. 

She 's far enough; and what he learns by this 
May prove his travel, not her danger. 

Clo. Hum I 

Pis. [Aside\ I '11 write to my lord she 's dead. 
O Imogen, 
Safe mayest thou wander, safe return agen ! 

Clo. Sirrah, is this letter true? 

Pis. Sir, as I think. 107 

Clo. It is Posthumus* hand; I know't. — 
Sirrah, if thou wouldst not be a villain, but 
do me true service, undergo' those employ- 
ments wherein I should have cause to use tiiee 

1 Packing, making off, mnning away. 

s Clo»e, secret 

s Undergo^ undertake. 

120 



with a serious industry, — that ia, wliat villan^ 
soe'er I bid thee do, to perform it directly anc 
truly, — I would think thee an honest man 
thou shouldst neither want my means for thj 
relief, nor my voice for thy preferment. 

Pis. Well, my good lord. ii' 

Clo. Wilt thou serve me? f — for since pit 
tiently and constantly thou hast stuck to th< 
bare fortune of that beggar Posthumus, thoi 
canst not, in the course of gratitude, but be i 
diligent follower of mine, — wilt thou serv* 
me?] 

Pis. Sir, I wiU. 

Clo. Give me thy hand ; here 's my purse 
Hast any of thy late master's garments in th} 
possession? 

Pis. I have, my lord, at my lodging, th< 
same suit he wore when he took leave of m^ 
lady and mistress. 121 

Clo. The first service thou dost me, fetcl 
that suit hither: let it be thy first service; go 

Pis. I shall, my lord. [Exit 

Clo. Meet thee at Milford-Haven I — I for 
got to ask him one thing; I'll remember '1 
anon: — even there, thou villain Posthumus 
will I kill thee. — I would these garments wen 
come. She said upon a time — the bittemesf 
of it I now belch from my heart — that 8h« 
held the very garment of Posthumus in mon 
respect than my noble and natural person 
together with the adornment of my qualities 
With that suit upon my back, will I ravisl 
her: first kill him, and in her eyes; there shal 
she see my valour, which will then be a tor- 
ment to her contempt. He on the ground 
my speech of insultment* ended on his deac 
body, and when my lust hath dined, — which 
as I say, to vex her I will execute in the clothef 
that she so prais'd, — to the court I '11 knock 
her back, foot her home again. She hatli 
despis'd me rejoicingly, and I '11 be merry in 
my revenge. iw 

lie-enter Pisanio, with the clothes. 

Be those the garments? 

Pis. Aye, my noble lord. 

do. How long is 't since she went to Mil- 
ford-Haven ? 

* Insulttnent, triumph over my foe. 



CTMBEUNE. 



ACT III. t 



Pi*. She can Bcarc« be there yet lu 

Go. Bringthisappatel to niy chamber; that 
ii the second thing that I liave cvmtnanded 
Ibce: the third ia, that thou wilt be a volun- 
tary muta to my design. Be but duteous, and 
true preferment ahall tender itself to thee. — 
Hy revenge is now at Milford: would I had 
wings to follow it I— Come, and be true. 

[Exit. 
Pit. Thou bid'st me to my lose: for, true 

Were to prove folse, which I will never be, 
To him that is most true.— To Milford go. 
And find not her whom thou purau'at. — Flow, 

flow, 
You heavenly bleaainge, on her ! — This fool's 

speed 1«T 

Be cTDSs'd with slowness ; labour be his meed t 

[Exit. 

ScESB VL The wirac. IValet: bepre the cave 
of Bdariat. 

Enter Imogen, ia boy'i clothe*. 

imo. I see a niau's life is h tedious one: 

I Ve tir'd myaelf ; iLnd for two nights together 

H»ve made the ground my bed. I should be 

But that my resolution helpa me. — Milford, 
Vhen from the mountain-top Piaanio sliow'd 

thee, 
Hou wast within a ken: O Jove ! I think 
FcnuKlations' fly the wretched; such, I roea:i, 
Where they should be reliev'd. Two beggars 



toldn 



my way: will poor folks Ue, 
lliat hare afflictious on then), knowing 't is' 
^punishment or trial? Yes; uo wonder, 
^eu rich ones scarce tell true: to lapse in 

I> norer* than to lie for need; and falsehood 
I> «{«se in kings than beggara. — My dear lord ! 
Thou H one o* the false onen: now I think on 

thee 
^T hunger 'a gone; but even before,* I was 
At point to sink for food.— But what is this? 

I FmndatieaiM, Snd pluM. 



Here is a path to 't: 'tis some savage hold: 
I were best not call; I dare not call: yet fiimiiie. 
Ere cleati it o'erthrow nature, makes it valiant 
Plenty and peace breeds cowards; hardness^ 

Of liardiness* is mother.— Ho! who 'a here) 



iHiw/ 


M 


'^^^ 


i 




^ Lit 


p 


■^■^'•j 


>.i 




W' ' 




V 


.F|£t4. 


^itt 


% 


^Bfe ^"^nf 


■jm^ny 




mkM 


"^^ 

-f"?' 


m 


"*.(; 



If any thing tliat 'a civil. 
Take or lend. Ho!-N 


apeak; 


rl then 1 '11 


Best draw my sword ; au 
But fear the awonl like m 

on't 
Such a foe, good heavens 


lifmi 
e,he'l 


ne enemy 
scarcely look 


[(/o« 


into the cave. 


> Hardna,. lunlitalp. 

• UnntioMt. hwdlhood, bniwy. 



ACT III. Scene 6. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT III. Soene 6. 



EiUer Belarius, Guidbrius, and Arviragus. 

Bd. You, Polydore, have proved best wood- 
man/ and 
Are master of the feast: C«adwal and I 20 
Will play the cook and servant; 't is our match:' 
The sweat of industry would dry and die, 
But for the end it works to. Come; our sto- 
machs 
Will make what 's homely savoury : weariness 
Can snore upon the flint, when resty^ sloth 
Finds the down-pillow hard. — Now, peace be 

here, 
Poor house, that keep'st* thyself I 

Qui, I 'm throughly weary. 

Arv, I 'm weak with toil, yet strong in appe- 
tite. 
Qui, There is cold meat i' the cave; we'll 
browse on that, S8 

Whilst what we have kilFd be cook'd. 
Bd, Stay; come not in. 

[Looking iiUo the cave. 
But that it eats our victuals, I should think 
Here were a fairy. 

Old, What's the matter, sir? 

Bel. By Jupiter, an angel ! or, if not. 
An earthly paragon ! — Behold divineness 
No elder tlian a boy I 

Re-enter Imogen. 

Imo. Good masters, harm me not: 
Before I enter'd here, I cali'd; and thought 
T' have begg'd or bought what I have took : 

good troth, 
I have stol'n naught; nor would not, though I 

had found 
Gold strew'd i' the floor. Here 's money for 
mv meat: 50 

I would have left it on the board, so soon 
As I had made my meal; and parted^ 
With prayers for the provider. 

(Jui. Money, youth? 

Arv, All gold and silver rather turn to dirt ! 
As 'tis no better reckon'd, but of® those 
Who worship dirty gcxis. 

Imo, I see you 'I'e angry: 

Know, if you kill me fur my fault, I should 

1 Woodman, hunter. s Match, agreement 

* Re#ty, disinclined to move, lazy. 

* Keep'tt^ guardett. * Parted, departed. « Of, by. 

122 



Have died had I not made it 

Bel, Whither bound? 

Imo, To Milford-Haven. 

Bd, What's your name? 60 

Imo, Fidele, sir. I have a kinsman who 
Is bound for Italy; he embark'd at Milford; 
To whom being going,almost spent with hunger, 
I 'm fall'n in^ this ofifence. 

Bel, Prithee, fair youth. 

Think us no churls, nor measure our good minds 
By this rude place we live in. Well encounter'd ! 
'T is almost night: you shall have better cheer 
Ere you depart ; and thanks to stay and eat it. — 
Boys, bid him welcome. 

Q Om. Were you a woman, youth, 

I should woo hard but be your groom in honesty: 
I bid for you as I do buy. ] 

Arv. 1 1 '11 make 't my comfort 

He is a man;] I '11 love him as my brother: — 
And such a welcome as I 'd give to him® 73 
After long absence, such is yours : most welcome ! 
Be sprightly, for you fall 'mongst friends. 

Imo. 'Mongst friends. 

If brothers. — [Aside] Would it had been so, 

that they 
Had been my father's sons ! then had my prize • 
Been less; and so more equal ballasting 
To thee, Posthtimus. 

Bd. He wrings at some distress. 

Out. Would I could free 't ! 

Arv. Or I ; whate'er it be, 

What pain it cost, what danger I Gods 1 

Bel. Hark, boys. [ Whispering, 

Imo. Great men, 93 

That had a court no bigger than this cave. 
That did attend themselves, and had the virtue 
Which their own conscience seal'd them, — lay- 
ing by 
That nothing-gift of differing multitudes, — 
Could not out-peer^® these twain. Pardon me, 

gods! 
I 'd change my sex to be comjMuiion with them, 
Since Leonatus' false. 

Bel. It shall be so. 

Boys, we '11 go dress our hunt." — Fail* youth, 
come in: 90 

7 In, into. * To Aim, ie. to my brother. 

* My prize, i.e. the prize Posthnmus had in me. 
lu Out-peer, sorpaM. 
11 Our htmt, ie. the game killed in hunting. 



ACT UL Some 0. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT IV. Soeue 8. 



Discourse isheavy, fasting; when we Ve supp'd, 
We 'U mannerly demand thee of thy story, 
So far as thou wilt speak it. 

(Jui, Pray» draw near. 

Arv, The night to th' owl, and mom to the 
lark, less welcome. 94 

Inio. Thanks, sir. 

Arv. I pray, draw near. [Exeunt. 

t Scene VII. Rome. A public place. 

Enter two JSencUors and Tnhunes. 

Pint Sen, This is the tenour of the emperor's 
writ, — 
That since the common men are now in action 
'Gainst the Pannonians and Dalmatians; 
!And that the legions now in Gallia Jire 



Full weak to undertake our wars against 
The fall'n-oflf* Britons; that we do incite 
The gentry to this business. He creates 
Lucius pro-consul: and to you the tribunes, 
For this immediate levy, he commands 9 

His absolute' commission. Long live Ctesar! 
First Tri. Is Lucius general of the forces? 
Sec. Sen. ky.\ 

First Tri. Remaining now in Gallia? ' 

First Sen. With those legions 

Which I have spoke of, whereunto your levy 
Must be suppliant:^ the words of your com- 
mission 
Will tie you to the numbers, and the time 
Of their dis|)atch. 

First Tri. We will discharge our duty. 

[Exeunt. ] 



ACT IV. 



Scene I. Britain. Wales: the forest near the 
cave of Belarius. 

Enter Cloten. 

CZo. I am near to the place where they should 
meet, if Pisanio have mapp'd it truly. How 
tit his garments serve me ! Why should his 
mistress, who was made by him that made the 
tailor, not be fit too? the rather — saving rever- 
ence of the word — for 't lb said a woman's fit- 
ness comes by fits. Therein I must play the 
workman. I dare speak it to myself, — for it 
is not vain-glor\' for a man and his glass to 
confer in his own chamber — I mean, the lines 
uf my body are as well drawn as his; no less 
youiig,more strong, not beneath him in fortunes, 
beyond him in the advantage of the time, above 
him in birth, alike conversant in general ser- 
vices,^ and more remarkable in single opposi- 
tions:^ yet this imperseverant^ thing loves him 
in my despite. What mortality is! Post- 



> FaUn-of, revolted. 

* Abtolute, unconditional, with full powers. 

* Suppliant, auxiliary. 

* Servieet, ie. military aenrices. 

* Single cppotUumt. tingle combats. 

* Imipeneverant, undiacemiiig. 



humus, thy head, which now is growing upon 
thy shoulders, shall within this hour be off; 
thy mistress enforced; thy garments cut to 
pieces before her face: and all this done, spurn 
her home to her father; who may happily be 
a little angry for my so rough usage; but my 
mother, having power of his testiness, shall 
turn all into my commendations. My horse 
is tied up safe: out, sword, and to a sore pur- 
jKJse I Fortune, put them uito my hand I This 
is the ver}- description of their meeting-place; 
and the fellow dares not deceive me. [Exit. 

Scene II. The same. Before the cave 
of Belari^u. 

Enter, from the cave, Belarius, Guiderius, 
Arviraous, a}id Imogen. 

Bd. [To Imogeii\ You are not well: remain 
here in the cave; 
We '11 come to you after hunting. 

Arv. [To Imogen] Brother, stay here: 

Are we not brothers? 

Imo. So man and man should be; 

But clay and clay differs in dignity. 
Whose dust is both alike. I 'm verj' sick. 
Qui. Go you to hunting; I'll abide with 
him. 

123 



ACT IV. Soene 2. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACTIV. 



Imo. So aick I am not, — yet I am not well; 
But not 80 citizen a wanton^ as 
To seem to die ere sick : so please you, leave me ; 
Stick to your journal' course: the breach of 
custom 10 

Is breach of alL 1 'm ill ; but your being by me 
Cannot amend me; society is no comfort 
To one not sociable: I 'm not very sick, 
Since I can reason of it. Pray you, trust me 

here: 
^I '11 rob none but myself [; and let me die, 
' Stealing so poorly. 

' (Jul. I love thee; I have spoke it: 

^ How much the quantity, the weight as much, 
^ As I do love my father. 
; Bd, What? how! how! 

J Arv, If it be sin to say so, sir, I yoke me 
;.In my good brother's fault: I know not why 
;! love this youth; and I have heard you «ay, 
■ Love's reason's without reason : the bierat door, 
• And a demand who lb 't shall die, I 'd say, 23 
" My father, not this youth." 
•'. Bel. [Addel O noble strain ! 

' O worthiness of nature ! breed of greatness ! 
^ Cowards father cowards, and base things sire 

base: 
Nature hath meal and bran, contempt and grace. 
I'm not their father; yet who this should be, 
^ Doth miracle itself, ^ lov'd before me. — 
N^Tis the ninth hour o' the mom.] 

Arv, Brother, farewell 

Imo, I wish ye sport. 

Arv. You health. — So please you, sir.* 

Imo. [Aside] These are kind creaturea Grods, 

what lies I 've heard ! 82 

Our courtiers say all 's savage but at court: 

Exi^erience, O, thou disprov'st report ! 

[Th' imperious seas breeds monsters; for the 

dish 
cPoor tributary rivers as sweet fish. ] 
I am sick still; heart-sick: — Pisanio, 
I 'II now taste of thy drug. 

^OuL I could not stir him:* 

( He said he was gentle, but unfortunate; 



1 So eUUen a toaiUon, Much a town-bred child of luxuiy. 
> Journal^ daily. 

* Doih miracU itse{f, doth make itself a miracle, it in- 
comprehentible. 

* So pUa$€ you, rir (spoken to Belariui). 

* SHr him, move him to tell hit story. 

124 



Dishonestly afflicted, but yet honest 

Arv. Thus did he answer me: yet aaic 
after 
I might know more.|] 

Bel. To the field, to the f 

We '11 leave you for this time: go in ar 

Arv. We 'U not be long away. 

Bel. Pwiy* be n< 

For you must be our housewife. 

Imo. Wei 

I am bound to you. 

Bel. And shalt be evi 

[Exit Imogen into ti 
This youth, howe'er distress'd, appears 1 

had 
Good ancestors. 

Arv. How angel-like he n 

Oui. But his neat cookery ! he cut oi 
in characters;® 
And sauc'd our broths, as Juno had be< 
And he her dieter. 

^Arv. Nobly he yokes 

A smiling with a sigh, — as if the sigh 
Was that it was for not being such a a 
The smile mocking the sigh, that it wc 
From so divine a temple, to commix 
With winds that sailors rail at. 

6hiL I do 

That grief and patience, rooted in him 
Mingle their spurs together. 

'Arv. Grow, pa 

And let the stinking elder, grief, untw 
His perishing root with^ the increasing 

Bel. It is great morning.^ Come, a^ 
Who's there? 

Enter Cloten. 

Clo. I cannot find those runagates; tl 

lain 
Hath mock'd me:— I am faint 

Bd. " Those runa^ 

Means he not us? I partly know him; 
Cloten, the son o' the queen. I fear soi 

bush. 
I saw him not these many years, and } 
I know 'tis he. — We're held as oi 

hence! 

* In eharacterty in the shape of letters. 
f With, from, so as tu be no more twined n 
s Oreat tnoming^ broad day. 



OYMBELINE. 
you and my brother 



ACT lY. t 



b'ui He ia but 

fflist companies ure near; pray you, &way; 
Let me alone with bim. 

lExeutU Bdariiu and Arnragut. 
Go. Soft !~What are you 



Ttiat fly me tbus? some villain muuntaineera? 
I 've heard of auiih.— What aiave art thout 

Oui. A thing 

More slavish di<l I ne'er tliau answering 
A "alave" without a knock. 

Ch, Tbou art a robber. 




A law-breaker, a villain: yield thee, thief. 

Gui. To who? to thee? Wljat art thou? 
Have not I it 

Ad arm ax big aa thine? !i heart as big! 
Thy wordn, I grant, are bigger; for I wear not 
My dagger In my mouth. Say what thou art. 
Why I should yield to theel 

Clo. Thou villain base, 

Know'st me not by my clothes? 

'Jui. No, nor thy tailor, rnacal, 

Whi^ is thy graiulfatlier: he made those clothes, 
Wliicli, as it seemn, make thee. 

Clo. Thou precious varlet. 

My tailor made them not. 

Out. Hence, tlien, and thank 



Themantluitgavethem thee. Thou artsomefool', 
I 'm lotli to beat thee. 

Clo. Thou injurious' thief. 

Hear but my name, and tremble. 

tfwi. Wliafs thy name? 

Clo. Uloten, thou villain. 

Out. Cl(>ten,thoudoublevi)Liiu,bethyuame, 
I cannot tremble at it: were it Toad, or Adder, 
Spider, W 

'T would move me sooner. 

Clo. To thy further fear. 

Nay, to thy mere' confusion, thou shalt know 
I *m son Ui the queen. 

< iBJurimu, InioteDL ' Vtr*. aliKilDti. 



ACT IV. Scene 2. 



CYMBEUNE. 



ACT IV. Scene 1 



Guu I 'm sorry for't; not seeming 

So worthy aj9 thy birth. 

Clo, Art not af card ? 

Oui Those that I reverence, those I fear, 
—the wise: 
At fools I laugh, not fear them. 

Clo. Die the death: 

When I have slain thee with my proper hand, 
I '11 follow those that even now fled hence, 
And on the gates of Lud's- town set your heads: 
Yield, rustic mountaineer. [Exeunt fighting. 

Re-enter Belarius aTid Arviraous. 

Del, No company 's abroad. loi 

Arv, None in the world: you did mistake 
him, sure. 

Bel. I cannot tell : — long is it since I saw him, 
But time hath nothing blurred those lines of 

favour 
Which then he wore ; the snatches in his voice, 
And burst of speaking, were as his: I 'm ab- 
solute ^ 
'T was verv Ooten. 

Arv. In this place we left them: 

fl wish my brother make good time with him, 
You say he is so fell. 

Bel. Being scarce made up,* 

I mean, to man, he liad not apj>rehension^ no 
Of roaring terrors; for tli* effect of judgement 
Is oft the cause of fear. — ^] But, see, thy brother. 

Re-enter Guiderius with Cloten's head. 

(iiii. ThisCloten was a fool, an empty purse, — 
There was no money in't: not Hercules 
Could have kuock'd out his brains, for he liad 

none: 
Yet I not doing this, the fool had bonie 
My head as I do his. 

Bel. What hast thou done? 

GuL I 'm perfect what: cut off one Cloten's 
head, 118 

Son to the queen, after* his own report; 
Who cjiU'd me traitor, mountaineer; and swore 
With his own single hand he 'd take us in,^ 
Displace our heads where — tliank the gods! — 

they grow, 
And set them on Lud's-town. 

1 Ahi€luU, certain. * Made up, grown ap. 

s Apprehension, conception, comprehension. 

* After, according to. * Take tu in, •abdue ob. 

126 



Bel. We 're all undone. 

Oui. Why, worthy father, what have we to 
lose 
But tliat he swore to take, our lives ? The law 
Protects not us: then why should we be tender 
To let an arrogant piece of flesh threat us. 
Play judge and executioner all himself. 
For we do fear the law ?® Q What company 
Discover you abroad ? 

Bel. No single soul iso 

Can we set eye on; but in all safe reason ' 

He must have some attendants. Though his 

humour 
Was nothing but mutation, — ay, and that ' 
From one bad thing to worse; not frenzy, not!' 
Absolute madness could so far have rav'd, ( 
To bring him here alone: although, perhaps, I 
It may be heaixl at court, that such .'is we I 
Cave here, hunt here, are outlaws, and in time;^ 
May make some stronger head ; the which he '. 
hearing — 139 

As it is like him — might break out, and swear 
He 'd fetch ua in;^ yet is 't not probable 
To come alone, either he so undertaking, J 
Or they so suffering:^ then on good ground we/ 
fear, ^ 

If we do fear this body hath a tail, / 

More perilous than the head. ^ 

Arv. Let ordinance"; 

tbnie as the gmls foresay it: howsoever. 
My brother hath done well. ^ 

Bel. I had no mind ( 

To hunt this day: the boy Fidele's sicknesH ^ 
Did make my way long forth.*** ; 

CrMi.] With his own sword, : 

Which he did wave against my throat, I 've ta'eu 
His head from him: I '11 throw 't into the creek 
Behind our rock; and let it to the sea, 152 
And tell the fishes he's the queen's son, Cloten: 
Tliat 's all I reck. [Exit. 

Bel. I fear 'twill be reveng'd: 

Would, Poly (lore, thou hadst not done 'tl though 

valour 
Becomes thee well enough. 

• For tee do fear the lawf because we are afraid of the 
law. 

7 Fetch tut in, make us prisoners 

< Suffering, permitting. 

» Ordinance, that which is ordained. 

10 Did make tnt/ tray long forth, did make my way forth 
from the cave seem long. 



ACT IV. Scene 2. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT IV. Boene 2. 



Arv. Would I had done % 

So the revenge alone pursued me I — Polydore, 
I love thee brotherly; but enyy much 
Thou hast robVd me of this deed: [I would 

revenges, 
That possible strength might meet, would seek 
us through, 160 

• And put us to our answer. "2 

Bel. Well, 'tis done:— 

We'll hunt no more to-day, nor seek for danger 
Where there 's no profit. I prithee, to our rock ; 
You and Fidele play the cooks: I '11 stay 
Till hasty Polydore return, and bring him 
To dinner presently. 

Arv. Poor sick Fidele I 

I'll willingly to him: to gain his colour* 
I'd let a parish of such Clotens blood,'^ 
And praise myself for charity. [Eudt. 

Bel. O thou goddess, 

Thou divine Nature, how thyself thou blazon'st^ 
In these two princely boys ! They are as gentle 
As zephyrs, blowing below the violet, 172 

Not wagging his sweet head ; and yet as rough. 
Their royal blood enchaf d, as the rud'st wind, 
That by the top doth take the mountain [)ine. 
And make him stoop to the vale. 'Tis wonder 
That an invisible instinct should frame them 
To royalty unleani'd; honour untaught; 
Civility not seen from other; valour, 179 

That wildly grows in them, but yields a crop 
As if it had been sow'd. Yet still it 's strange 
What Cloten's being here to us portends, 
Or what his death will bring us. 

Be-etUer Guiderius. 

Gtd, Where's my brother? 

I have sent Cloten's clotpoll down the stream, 
In embassy to his mother: his body's hostage 
For his return. [^Solemn music. 

Bel. My ingenious instrument! 

Hark, Polydore, it soimds! But what occasion 

Hath Cadwal now to give it motion? Hark! 

' [G'wi. Is he at home? 

: Bel. He went hence even now.] 

Qui. What does he mean? since death of my 
dear'st mother 190 

It did not speak before. All solemn things 

1 To gain hi* colour, to restore the colour to his cheeks. 
* Let blood, shed the blood of, sUj. 
*BUt9en'tt, procUimest. 



Should answer solemn accidents. [The matter? / 
Triumphs for nothing, and lamenting toys, / 
Is jollity for apes, and grief for boys.] > 

Is Cadwal mad? 

[ Bel. Look, here he comes, ^ 

And brings the dire occasion in his arms 196 ' 
Of what we blame him for!] 

He-enter Arviragus, with Imogen as dead^ 
hearing her in his arms. 

Arv. The bini is dead 

That we have made so much on. I had rather 
Have skipp'd from sixteen years of age to sixty, 
T' have turn'd my leaping-time into a crutch, 
Tlian have seen this. 

(Jui. O sweetest, fairest lily! 

QMy brother wears thee not th'one half so well 
As when thou grew'st thyself. ] 

Bel. QO melancholy!. 

Who ever yet could sound thy bottom ? tind 
The ooze, to show what coast thy sluggish crare* ' 
Might easilieat harbour in? — Tliou blessed^ 

thing! 
Jove knows what man thou mightst have/ 

made; but I," 
Tliou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy ! — ] , 
How found you him ? 

Arv. Stark, as you see: 

Thus smiling, as some iiy had tickled slumber. 
Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at;® his 
right cheek 211 

Reposing on a cushion. 

GuL Where? 

Arv. C the floor; 

His arms thus leagu'd: I thought he slept; 

[and put 
My clouted brogues^ from off my feet, whose 

rudeness 
Answer'd my stef)s too loud.] 

Gui. Why, he but sleeps: 

If he be gone, he '11 make his grave a bed; 
With female fairies will his tomb be haunted, 
And worms will not come to thee. 

Arv. With fairest flowers, 

Whilst summer lasts, and I live here, Fidele, 
I '11 sweeten thy sad grave: thou shalt not lack 



* Crare, a small trading Tcssel. 
< But I, i.e. but I know. 

* Being laugh'd at, and was being laughed at. 
' Clouted brogue*, heavy patched shoes. 

127 



ACT IV. Scene 2. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT IV. 8oen0 £ 



The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose, 
nor 221 

The aziir'd harebell, like thy veins; no, nor 
The leaf of eglantine, whom not to slander, 
<; Out-sweeten'd not thy breath Q: the ruddock^ 

would, 
; With charitable bill, — O bill, sore-shaming 
^ Those rich-left heirs that let their fathers lie 
(^ Without a monument! — bring thee all this; 
■Yea, and furr'd moss besides, when flowers 

are none. 
To winter-ground thy corse]. 

Gui. Prithee, have done; 

And do not play in wench-like words with that 
Which is so serious. Let us bury him, 231 
And not protract with admiration"^ what 
Is now due debt. — To the grave. 
Arv. Say, where shall 's lay him? 

Qui, By good Euriphile, our mother. 
Arv. Be'tso: 

And let us, Polydore, though now our voices 
Have got the mannish crack, sing liim to the 

ground. 
As once our mother; use like note and words. 
Save that Euriphile must be Fidele. 

Gtii. Cadwal, 
I cannot sing: I'll weep, and word it with 
thee; 240 

For notes of sorrow out of tune are worse 
Than priests and fanes that lie. 

An\ We '11 speak it, then. 

Bel. Great griefs, I see, medicine the less; 
for C'loten 
Is quite forgot. He was a queen's sons, boys: 
And, though he came our enemy, remember 
I^He was paid' for thatQ: though mean and 
; mighty rotting 

•Together have one dust, yet reverence — 

[ That angel of the world — doth make distinction 

S Of place 'tween high and low]. Our foe was 

princely; 249 

And though you took his life as being our foe. 

Yet bury him as a prince. 

Gui. Pray you, fetch him hither. 

Thersites' body is as good as Ajax', 
When neither are alive. 

Arv. If you '11 go fetch him, 



1 Ruddock, redbreast. 

s Admiration^ wonder mingled with veneration. 

* Paid, paid ont, reiiuited. 

128 



We '11 say our song the whilst — Brother, begia 

[Ejptt Bdariut. 
[ Gut. Nay, Cadwal, we must lay his head tc 
th'east; 
My father hath a reason for 't. 
Arv. T is true. 

Gui. Ck>me on, then, and remove him. 
Arv. So. — Begin. 1 

Song. 

Gui. Fear no more the heat o' the sun, 
Nor the furious winter's rages; 
Thou thy worldly task hast done, 20( 

Home art gone, and ta'en thy wages: 
Golden lads and girls all must. 
As chimney-sweepers, come to dust. 

Arv. Fear no more the frown o' the great. 

Thou art past the tjrrant's stroke; 
Care no more to clothe and eat; 

To thee the reed is as the oak: 
The sceptre, learning, physic, must 
All follow this, and come to dust. 

Gui. Fear no more the lightning-fiash, 27( 

Arv. Nor th' all-dreaded thunder-stone; 

Gui. Fear not slander, cen3iu*e rash; 
Arv. Thou hast finish'd joy and moan: 

Both. All lovers young, all lovers must 

Consign^ to thee, and come to dust 
[ Gut. No exerciser' harm thee! 
Arv. Nor no witchcraft charm thee! 
Gin. Ghost unlaid forbear thee! 
Arv. Nothing ill come near uiee! 
.^o^A. Quiet consummation^ have; tM 

And renowned be thy grave!] 

Re-enter Belarius vdth the body of Cloten. 

Gui. We've done our obsequies: come, laj 

him down. 
Bd. Here 's a few flowers; but 'bout mid- 
night, more: 

The herbs that have on them cold dew o' the 
night 

Are strewings fitt'st for graves. — [Upon their 
faces. — 

You were as flowers, now wither'd : even so 

These herblets shall, which we upon you 
strow. — ] 

Come on, away: apfirt upon our knees. 

* Consign, sabscribe, submit 

* Exorciwr, raiser of spirits. 

6 ConMummation, summing np. end. 



ACT IV. SoeDe i. 



CYMBELINK 



ACT lY. Scene 2. 



The ground that gave them first has them 

again: 289 

Their pleasures here are past, so is their pain. 

[Exeunt BelariuSy Ouiderius, and 

Arvircigus. 

Imo. [Awaking] Yes, sir, to Milford-Haven; 

which is the way? — 

I thank you. — By yond bush ? — Pray, how far 

thither? 
'Ods pittikius! can it be six mile yet? — 
I 've gone all night: — faith, I '11 lie down and 

sleep. 
But, soft! no bedfellow: — O gods and god- 
desses! [Seeing the body of Cloten, 
These flowers are like the pleasures of the 

world; 
This bloody man, the care on't* — I hope I 

dream; 
For so I thought I was a cave-keeper,^ 
And oook to honest creatures: but t is not so; 
rr waa but a bolt of nothing, shot at nothing. 
Which the brain makes of fumes: our very 
eyes soi 

Are sometimes like our judgments, blind. 

Good faith, 
I tremble still with fear: but if there be 
Yet left in heaven as small a drop of pity 
As a wren's eye, fear'd gods, a part of it! 
The dream's here still: even when I wake, 

it is 

Without me, as within me; not imagin'd, felt 

A headless man! — The garments of Posthiimus! 

/Q I know the shape of 's leg: this is his hand; 

r His foot Mercurial; his Martial thigh; sio 

'. The brawns? of Hercules: but his Jovial face — ] 

Murder in heaven? — How! — 'Tis gone. — 

Pisanio, 
All curses madded Hecuba gave the Greeks, 
And mine to boot, be darted on thee! Thou, 
CVinspir'd with that irregulous* devil, Cloten, 
Hast here cut off my lord. — To write and read 
Be henceforth treacherous! — Damn'd Piaanio 
Hath with his forgeti letters,— damn'd Pi- 
sanio — 
From this most bravest vessel of the world 
Struck the main-top! [ — O Posthumus! alas, 

lOn^of II. 

s Cave-ketper, dweller in a cave. 

* Brawm, mnacnlar arms. 

* Irregulatu, lawleaa, unprincipled. 
VOU VIL 



Where is thy head? where 's that? Ay me! 

Where's that? 381 

Pisanio might have kill'd thee at the heart, 
And left this head on. — How should this be?' 

Pisanio? 

'Tis he and Cloten: malice and lucre in them; 
Have laid this woe here. 3 O, 't is pregnant,^ > 

pregnant! 
The drug he gave me, which he said was precious 
And cordial to me, have I not found it 
Murderous to the senses? That confirms it 

home: 
This is Pisanio's deed and Cloten's: O! — 
Give colour to my pale cheek with thy blood. 
That we the horrider may seem to those ssi 
Which chance to find us: O, my lord, my lord! 

[Throws herself on the body. 

Enter Lucius, a Captain and other Officers^ 
and a Soothsayer. 

Cap, To them the legions garrison'd in 
Gallia, 
After your will, have cross'd the sea; attending 
You here at Milford-Haven with your ships: 
They are in readiness. 
LiLc But what from Home? 

Cap, The senate hathstirr'd upthec6nfiner8' 
And gentlemen of Italy; most willing spirits. 
That promise noble service: and they come 
Under the conduct of bold lachimo, 840 

Syenna's brother. 

Luc, When expect you them? 

Cap, With the next benefit o' the wind, 

Luc, This forwardness 

Makes our hopes fair. [Command our present > 

numbers ? 

Be muster'd; bid the captains look to't. — ) 

Now, sir, J 

What liave you dream'd of late of this war's ^ 

purpose ? ) 

Sooth, Last night the very gods show'd me ; 

a vision, — ^ 

I fast^ and pray'd for their intelligence, — thus: j 

I saw Jove's bird, the Boman eagle, wing'd ' 

From the spongy south to this part of the west, ; 

There vanish'd in the sunbeams: which por-J 

tends — 850 ' 

* Pregnant, dear, erident. 

< C6njiner$t thoae who live In confines, i.e. territories. 

' Fatt, fasted. 

129 17« 



CYMBELINK 



ACT IV. .81 



^Unless niy iine abuse> my divination — asi 

(Success to the Roniiin host 

( LiK. Dream often so, 

f And never false. — ^Soft, hoi what trunk is here 
Without Lis top? The ruin speaks that some- 
It wna a worthy building. — How! a page! — 



Or dead, or sleeping on him? But dead, rather; 
For nature doth abhor to make his bed 
With ttie defuDct, or sleep upon the dead. — 
Let '% see the boy's face. 

Cap. He 'a alive, my lord. 

Lnc. He '11, then, instruct us of this body. — 
Young one, 340 




Inform ua of thy fortunes; for it seems ssi 
They crave to be demanded. Who is this 
Thouraak'stthybloodypillowt Orwhowashe 
That, otherwise than noble nature did,' 
Hath alti^r'd that good picture? What's thy 

interest 
In this sad wreck ? How came itt Who is iti 
What art thou? 

Imo. I am nothing; or if not, 

Nothingtobewere better. Tliis waa my master, 
A very valiant Sriton and a good, 8S9 



rupl, perytrl 



> bid, did it. mid* It. 



That here by mountaineers lies slain: — alasl 
There is no more such masteta: 1 may wander 
From east to Occident, cry out for service, 
Try many, nl! good, serve truly, never 
Find such another master. 

j6uc. 'lAck, good youth! 

Thou mov'st no less with thy complaining than 
Thy master in bleeding: Qsay his name, good> 

Imo. Richard du Champ. — \Ande\ If I do! 

lie, and do ■sil '■ 

No harm by it, though the gods hear, I hope \ 

They'll panlon it.— Say you, sirl] > 



ACT IV. Scene 2. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT IV. Scene 3, 



Luc Thy name? 

Imo. Fidele, sir. 

Lite, Thou dost approve thyself the very 
same: sao 

Thy name well fits thy faith, thy faith thy name. 
• Wilt take thy chance with me 1 I will not say 
Thou shalt be so well mastered; but, be sure, 
i No less belov'd. [The Boman emperor's letters, 
<Sent by a consul to me, should not sooner 
SThan thine own worth prefer^ thee:] go with 
me. 

Lno. I '11 follow, sir. But first, an 't please 
the gods, 
1 11 hide my master from the flies, as deep 
As these poor pickaxes can dig: and when 
With wild wood-leaves and weeds I ha' streVd 
his grave, 390 

And on it said a century' of prayers, 
Such as I can, twice o'er, I '11 weep and sigh; 
And leaving so his service, follow you, 
So jdeaae you entertain ^ me. 

Luc Ay, good youth; 

And rather father thee than master thee. — 
My friends, 

The boy hath taught us manly duties: let us 
Find out the prettiest daisied plot we can, 
And make him with our pikes and partisans 
A grave: come, arm him. * — Boy, he is pref err'd 
By thee to us; and he shall be interr'd 40i 
As soldiers can. Be cheerful ; wipe thine eyes : 
Some falls are means the happier to arise. 

[Exeunt. 

;[ Scene III. The same. A room in Cymbeline^s 
) palace. 

f 

: EiUer Ctmbeline, Lorde^ Pisanio, and Atten- 
) dants. 

) Cy^n, Again; and bring me word how 'tis 

with her. 
/A fever with the absence of her son; 
■ [Exit an Attendant. 

A madness, of which her life's in danger, — 

Heavens, 
How deeply you at once do touch me ! Imogen, 
< The great part of my comfort, gone; my queen 
Upon a desperate bed, and in a time 

> Prt/er, recommend. > A century, a hundred, 

s BfUeriain, employ, take into lervice. 
« Arm tarn, take bim in jronr arma. 



When fearful wars point at me; her son gone. 
So needful for this present: it strikes me, past 
The hope of comfort. — But for thee, fellow. 
Who needs must know of her departure, and 
Dost seem so ignorant, we'll enforce it from thee 
By a sharp torture. 

Pis. Sir, my life is yours, 

I humbly set it at your will: but, for my mis- 
tress, IS 
I nothing know where she remains, why gone. 
Nor when she purposes return. Beseech your 

highness. 
Hold me your loyal servant 

First Lord. Good my liege. 

The day that she was missing he was here: 
I dare be bound he 's true, and shall perform 
Allpartsof his subjection** loyally. For Cloten, 
There wants no diligence in seeking him, 20 
And will,^ no doubt, be found. 

Cym. The time is troublesome. — 

[To Pisanio'] We'll slip you^ for a season; but 

our jealousy® 
Does yet depend.® 

First Lord. So please your majesty, 
The Roman legions, all from Gallia drawn. 
Are landed on your coast; with a supply 
Of Boman gentlemen, by the senate sent. 

Cym. Now for the counsel of my son and 
queen ! — 
I am amaz'd^^ with matter. 

First Lord, Good my liege. 

Your preparation can affront ^^ no less 
Than what you hear of: come more, for more 
you're ready: so 

The want is, but to put those powers in motion 
That long to move. 

Cym. I thank you. Let 's withdraw; 

And meet the time as it seeks us. We fear not 

What can from Italy annoy us; but 

We grieve at chances here. — Away I 

[Exeunt aU hut Pisanio. 

Pis. I heard no letter^* from my master since 

I wrote him Imogen was slain: 'tis strange: 

Nor hear I from my mistress, who did promise 



» Subjeetum, service. • Witt, i.e. he will. 

' Slip you, let you go. > JealouBy, suspicion. 

* Doei yet depend, is still in a state of suspense. 

10 Am€U^d, bewildered. 

11 Affront, bring to the encounter, 
u No Utter, not a syllable. 

131 



ACT lY. Soene 8. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT IV. Soeiw 4. 



^To yield me often tidings; neither know I 
What is betid to Cloten; but remain 40 

Perplex'd in all: — the heavens still must work. 
Wherein I 'm false I 'm honest: not true, to be 

true: 

I These present wars shall find I love my country, 
Even to the noteo' the king,^ or I'll fall in them. 
All other doubts, by time let them be cleared: 
Fortune brings in some boats that are not 

steered. [£jnt,2 

Scene IV. The same, Wales: before the cave 

of Belarms. 

Enter Belarius, Guiderius, and ARViRAOua 

Gut, The noise is round about us. 

Bel, Let us from it. 

^Arv. What pleasure, sir, find we in life, to 
lock it 
I From action and adventure? 

GuL Nay, what hope 

Have we in hiding us? This way, the Romans 
Must or for Britons slay us, or receive us 
For barbarous and unnatural revolts * 
During their use,^ and slay us after. 

Bel, Sons,] 

We'll higher to the mountains; there secure us. 
To the king's party there 's no going: newness 
Of Cioten's death — we being not known, not 
muster'd lo 

Among the bands — may drive us to a render* 
Where we have liv'd ; and so extortfrom 's that 
Which we have done, whose answer would be 

death 
Drawn on with torture. 

Gui. This is, sir, a doubt 

In such a time nothing becoming you. 
Nor satisfying us. 

Arv. It is not likely 

That when they hear the Roman horses neigh. 
Behold their quarter'd^ tires, have both their 

eyes 
And ears so cloy'd importantly as now, 19 
That they will waste their time upon our note,* 



"^ To the note af Uu king, so that the king shall take note 
of It s Revoltt, reTolten. 

* During their tue, aa long aa they hare any nae for ua. 

* A render, an account 

* Quarter'd, i.e. burning In their quarters. 

* (Tpon our note, in taking note of nt. 

132 



! 



To know from whence we are. 

Bel. O, I am known 

Of many in the army: many years, 22 

Though Cloten then but young, you see, not 

wore him 
From my remembrance. And, besides, the 

king 
Hath not deserved my service nor your loves; 
Q Who^ find in my exHe the want of breeding, \ 
The certainty^ of this hard life; aye hopel 
To have the courtesy^ your cradle promis'd. 
But to be still ^^ hot summer's tanlings, and 
The shrinking slaves of winter.] 

Gui, [ Than be so, ] 

Better to cease to be.] Pray, sir, to th' army: ^ 
I and my brother are not known; yourself 
So out of thought, and thereto so o'ei^grown, • 
Cannot be question'd. 

Arv, By this sun that shines, 

I '11 thither: [what thing" is 't that I never ) 
Did see man die ! scarce ever look'd on blood, 
But that of coward hares, hot goats, and venison! 
Never bestrid a horse, save one that had 
A rider like myself, who ne'er wore rowel 
Nor iron on his heel ! ] I am asham'd 40 
QTo look upon the holy sun,] to have i 

The benefit of his bless'd beams, remaining 
So long a poor unknown. 

Gui. By heavens, 1 11 go: 

If you will bless me, sir, and give me leave, 
I '11 take the better care; but if you will not. 
The hazard therefore due fall on me by 
The hands of Romans ! 

Arv, So say I, — Amen. 

Bel, No reason I, since of your lives you set 
So slight a valuation, should reserve 
My crack'd one to more care. ELave with you, 
boys! 60 

If in your country wars you chance to die. 
That is my bed too, lads, and there I 'U lie: 
[Lead, lead. — [Aside] The time seems loug;> 
their blood thinks scorn, ^* J 

Till it fly out, and show them princes bom.] ^ 

[Exeunt, 



f Who, i.e. you who. 

* The certainty, the certain consequence. 

• Courtesy, kindly treatment, gentle nurture. 
10 To be $tai, doomed to be still. 

" What thing, i.e. what a thing. 

u Thinks seom, disdains the thought o( anything 



ACT Y. Sc«n« L 



CYMBELINK 



ACT V. Scene 2. 



ACT V. 



ScEXS I. Britain, The Roman camp. 

Enter Posthcmus icith a bloody handkerchief. 

Pott. Yea, bloody cloth, I '11 keep thee; for 

I am wish'd^ 
Thou shouldst be coloured thus. You married 

ones, 
If each of jou should take this course, how 

many 
Must murder wives much better than them- 
selves 
For wrying* but a little ! — O Pisanio ! 
Every good servant does not all commands: 
JJo bond but to do just ones. — Gods ! if you 
Should have ta'en vengeance on my faults, I 

never 
Had liVd to put on' this: so had you saVd 
The noble Imogen to repent; and struck lO 
Me, wretch more worth your vengeance. But, 

alack. 
You snatch some hence for little faults; that 's 

love, 
To have them fall no more: you some permit 
To second ills with ills, each elder worse. 
And make them dread it, to the doers' thrift 
But Imogen is your own: do your best wills. 
And make me blest t'obey! — I am brought 

hither 
Among th' Italian gentxy, and to fight 
Against my lady's kingdom : 't is enough 
That, Britain, I have kill'd thy mistress; peace! 
I '11 give no wound to thee. Therefore, good 

heavens, 21 

Hear patiently my purpose: I '11 disrobe me 
Of these Italian weeds, and suit myself 
As does a Briton peasant: so I '11 fight 
Against the part I come with; so I '11 die 
For thee, O Imogen, even for whom my life 
Is, every breath, a death: and thus, unknown. 
Pitied nor hated, to the face of peril 
Myself I '11 dedicate. Let me make men know 
More valour in me than my habits show, so 
Gods, put the strength o' the Leonati in me I 
To shame the guise o' the world, I will begin 

1 / am witA'cf. I am p o ien e d by the wish. 
> Wrying, going Mtnijr. 
* Toput on, toinitigafee. 



The fashion, — less without and more within. 

Scene II. The same. A field between the 
Roman and British camps. 

Enter^ from one side, Lucius, Iachimo, Imo- 
OEN, and the Roman Army; from the 
other side, the British Army; Leonatus 
P0STHUMU8 following, like a poor soldier. 
They march over and go out. Alarums. 
Then enter again in skirmish, Iachimo 
and PoBTHUMUs: he ivtnquisheth and dis- 
armeth Iachimo, and then leaves him. 

lacL The heaviness and guilt within my 
bosom 
Takes oflf my manhood: I 've belied a lady, 
The princess of this country, and the air on 't 
Revengingly enfeebles me; or could this carl,* 
A very drudge of nature's, have subdu'd me 
In my profession ? Knighthoods and honours, 

borne 
As I wear mine, are titles but of scorn. 
Qlf that thy gentry, Britain, go before ^ 

This lout as he exceeds our lords, the odds 9^ 
Is, that we scarce are men, and you are gods. ^^ 

[Eant. 

[ The battle continues; the Britons fly; Ctmbe- > 
line is taken: then enter, to his rescue,? 
Belarius, Guiderius, and ARviRAOua > 

Bel. Stand, stand! We have th' advantage; 
of the ground; 
The lane is guarded: nothing routs us but 
The villany of our feara 

Gui, Arv. Stand, stand, and fight! 

Re-enter Posthumus, and seconds the Britons: 
tJiey rescue Ctmbeline, and all exeunt.\ 
Then re-enter Lucius, Iachimo, and Imo- ^ 

GEN. I 

Luc. Away, boy, from the troops, and save j 

thyself; ^ 

For friends kill friends, and the disorder's such ^ 

As war were hoodwink'd. / 

4 CaH, churl, peasant 
133 



ACT V. Sfiene 2. 



CYMBEUNE. 



ACT V. Scene S. 



lack. T is their fresh supplies. 

Liic. It is a day turn'd strangely: or betimes 
Let 's re-enforce, or fly. ] [Exeunt. 

Scene III. The same. Another part of the 

field. 

Enter Posthumus and a British Lord. 

^Lord. Cam'st thou from where they made 
the stand? 

Post. I did : 

^Though you, it seems, came from the fliers. 
( Lord. I did. 

J Post. No blame be to you, sir; for all was lost, 
JBut that the heavens fought: the king himself 
[Of his wings destitute, the army broken, 
^ And but the backs of Britons seen, all flying 
^Through a strait lane; the enemy full-hearted, 
i Lolling the tongue^ with slaughtering, having 
} work 

( More plentiful than tools to do 't, struck down 
J Some mortally, some slightly touch'd, some 
\ falling 10 

^Merely through fear; that the strait pass was 
( damm'd 
^ With dead men hurt behind, and cowards liv- 

?To die with lengthen'd shame. 

< Lord. Where was this lanel 
^ Post. Close by the battle, ditch'd, and wall'd 
<; with turf; 

( Which gave advantage to an ancient soldier, — 
f An honest one, I warrant; who deserved 

< So long a breeding as his white beard came to. 
In doing this for 's country: — athwart the lane. 
He, with two striplings, — lads more like to run 

I The country base^ than to commit such slaugh- 
ter; 20 

I With faces fit for masks, or rather fairer 

I Than those for preservation cas'd or shame,^ — 

Made good the passage ; cried to those that fled, 

"Our Britain's harts die flying, not our men: 

iTo darkness fleet, souls that fly backwards! 

Stand; 

^ Or we are Bomans, and wiU give you that 
^Like beasts, which you shun beastly, and may 
} save, 

1 Lolling the tongue, %.e. panting, oat of breath. 
> The country bcue, the game, prisoner's base. 
s Shame, modesty. 

134 



But to look back* in frown: stand, stand ! " — J 

These three, ^, 

Three thousand confident, in act as many, — ' 
For three performers are the file when idl 30 ' 
The rest do nothing, — ^with this word, "Stand, 

stand," 
Accommodated by the place, more charming^ 
With their own nobleness, — which could have 

turned c 

A distaff to a lance, — gilded pale looks, < 

Part^ shame, part^ spirit renew'd; that some, ; 

turn'd coward ; 

But by example, — O, a sin in war, 
Damn'd in the first beginners ! — ^gan to look ! 
The way that they did, and to grin like lions 
Upon the pikes o' th' hunters. Then began ■ 
A stop i' the chaser, a retire; anon 40 ' 

A rout, confusion-thick: forthwith they fly 
Chickens, the way which they stoop'd' eagles; 

slaves, .' 

The strides they victors made: and now our 

cowards — } 

"Like fragments in hard voyages — became / 
The life o' the need: having found the back-j 

door open 
Of the unguarded hearts, heavens, how they 

wound ! 
Some slain before; some dying; some their' 

friends 
O'er-bome® i' the former wave: ten, chafa'd by ; 



one. 



48 



Are now each one the slaughter-man of twenty: 
Those that would die or e'er resist are grown , 
The mortal bugs® o' the field. 

Lord. This was strange chance, — \ 

A narrow lane, an old man, and two boys I 

Post. Nay, do not wonder at it: you are 
made 
Rather to wonder at the things you hear 
Than to work any. Will you rhjTne upon 't. 
And vent it for a mockery? Here is one: 
" Two boys, an old man twice a boy, a lane, ■ 
Preserv'd the Britons, was the Romans' bane." 

Lord. Nay, be not angry, sir. ( 

Post. 'Lack, to wliat end?' 



4 But to looXr bcuA, merely by looking back. 
& More charming, having more (magic) power. 
« Part, partly. "^ Stoop'd, pounced. 

« O'er-bome, overwhelmed. 
Bug$, bugbears, terrors. 



ACT V. Spun 3. 



CYMBELINR 



ACT V 



t Who dares not stand > hia foe, I 'U b« his friend ; 
', For if he '11 do aa he is made to do, ei 

( I know he '11 quickly lljr my friendship too. 
j You 've put me into rhyme. 
J Lard. Farewell; you're angry.] 

'. PoMt. [Still Koiogl [Exit Lord] This is a 
i lord; O noble misery I' 



To be i' the field, and ask, what news, of me 1 ] 
To-day how many would have given their 

honours 
To have sav'd their carcasses I took heel to do't, 
And yet died tool I,in mine own woe charm'd,* 
Could not find death where I did hear him 




Nor feel him where he struck: being an ugly 

monster, to 

Tis strange he hides him in fresh cups, soft 

Sweet words; or hath moe miniatera than we 
That draw his knives i' the war. Well, I will 

find him: 
Fortune being now a favourer to the Briton, 
No more a Briton, I 've resiim'd again 
The part I came in; fight I will no more. 
But yield me to the veriest hind that shnll 
Once touch my shoulder. Great the slaugh- 



ry! O miterable pltce ol nobUitf. 



Here made by the lioman ; great the answer* 

be 
Britons must take; for me, my niuBom's' 

On either side I come to spend my bi-eatli; 
Which neitlier here I 'II keep nor liear agen. 
But end it by some means for Imogen. 

Enter two Britiih Captaini and Soldieri. 
Fira Cap. Great Jupiter be prais'd! Luctus 
is taken: 
Tis thought the old man and his sons were 
angels. 



d, protecteU u b) 



ACT Y. Soone 3. 



CYMBEUNR 



ACT Y. Soeaa 4. 



Sec, Cap. There was a fourth man, in a silly^ 
habit, 
That gave th' affront with them. 

First Cap, So 'tis reported: 

But none of 'em can be found. — Stand ! who 
is there? 
Post A Homan; 
Who had not now been drooping here, if 
seconds 90 

Qad answer'd him. 

Sec, Cap, Lay hands on him; a dog! — 

A leg of Rome shall not return to tell 
What crows have peck'd them here: — he brags 

his service 
As if he were of note: bring him to the king. 

}TEnter Ctmbeline, aMended; Belarius, Gui- 
/ DERius, Aryiragus, Pisanio, SoldierSy 
and Roman Captives, The Captains pre- 
sent PosTHUMUS to Cthbeline, who de- 
livers him over to a Oaoler: after whidiy 
all go out. 

Scene IY. The same. A prison. 

Enter Posthumcs and two Gaolers. 

First Oaol, You shall not now be stol'n, 
/ you've locks upon you; 
/So graze as you find pasture. 



Sec. Gaol, Ay, or a stomach. 

[Exeunt Gaolers, 
Post, Most welcome, bondage I for thou art 
a way, 

^I think, to liberty: yet am I better 
<'Than one that's sick o' the gout; since he had 
I rather 

^ Groan so in perpetuity than be cur'd 
<By the sure physician, death; who is the key 
^T* unbar these locks. My conscience, thou art 

fetter'd 
More than my shanks and wrists: you good 
^ gods, give me 9 

J The i>enitent instrument* to pick that bolt, 
^Then free for ever I Is 't enough I 'm sorry? 
'So children temporal fathers do appease; 
JGrods are more full of mercy. Must I repent ?3 
^ I cannot do it better than in gyves, 

1 SiUy, simple, ruiiic. 

9 Penitent instrument, instmment of penitence, t.e. a 
penitential death. > Repent, do penance. 

1.^ 



Desired more than constrain'd. To aatisfy?^ 
If of my freedom 't is the main part, take 
No stricter render^ of me than my all. 
I know you are more clement than vile men, 
Who of their broken debtors take a third, 
A sixth, a tenth, letting them thrive again 
On their abatement: tliat 's not my desire: 
For Imogen's dear life take mine; and though 
'T Lb not so dear, yet 't is a life; you coin'd it : 
Tween man and man they weigh not eveiy 



stamp; 



.6 



) 
} 
( 
I 

\ 

24^ 



Though light, take pieces for the figure's sake: 
You rather mine, being yours: and so, great 

powers. 
If you will take this audit,^ take this life. 
And cancel these cold bonds. — O Imogen ! 
I '11 speak to thee in silence. \Sl^ps, 



Solemn music Enter^ as in an apparition,^ 
SiciLius LEONATUt, /a/A«r to Posthumus,] 
an old man, attired like a warrior; leading > 
in his hand an ancient matroHj his wife, ; 
and mother to PoUhumus^ with music before 
them: then, after other music, follow the two 
young Leonati, brothers toPosthumtts, with 
wounds as they died in the tears. They 
circle Posthumu^s round, as he lies deeping. 

Sic%. No more, thou thunder-master, show 30 
Thy spite on mortal flies: 
With Mars fall out, with Juno chide, ^ 

That thy adulteries 

Rates and revenges. ) 

Hath my poor boy done aught but well, / 

Whose face I never saw ? ) 

I died whilst in the womb he stay'd 

Attending nature's law: 
Whose father then, as men report 

Thou orphans' father art, 40, 

Thou shouldst have been, and shielded hiiU) 

From this earth-vexing smart. 

Moth, Lucina lent not me her aid, ' 

But took me in my throes; c 

That from me was Posthtfmus ript, > 

Came crying 'mongst his foes, \ 

A thing of pity ! ^ 

SicL Great nature, like his ancestry, < 

Moulded the stuff so fair, (, 

That he deserv'd the praise o' the world, / 

As great Sicilius' heir. 51 ■ 

« To Mti^yi i.e. Must I satisfy? 

* Xo stricter render, uo more restricted surrender. 

< Stamp, coin. 

7 Take this audit, accept this statement of accoonts. 



I 



CTMBELINE 



FirK Bro. When once ho waa mature for man, 

In BriUin where wu he 

That oould stand up his panUel; 

Or Miitfol ' object be 
In eye of Imogen, that beat 
Could deem* hii dignityT 
Jfeth, With nuuTUge wherefore wai he mook'd. 
To be oiil'd, and thrown 
Froni Leonati eeat, and caat 00 

From her hia deareet one, 
Sweet Imogen 1 
Srei. Why did you suffer lachimo, 
I Slight thing of IteJf , 

To taint hia nobler heart and bnin 
With needless jealoue;; 
I And to become' the geek* and scom 

; O'th'otbor'aTillany! 

Stc Bro. For tliia, from stiller eeata we came, 
) Our parents, and u> twain, TO 

That, stnlcing in our country's cause, 
', Fell braTcly, and were slain; 

[ Our fealty and Tenantius' right 

With honour to maintain. 
; Fim Bro. Like bordimeiit Fosthtimus hath 

To Cymbelino perf onn'd : 
' Then. Jupiter, thou king of gods. 

Why halt thou thus adjoum'd ' 
Tbe graces tor his merits due; 

Being all to doloura tiirn'd t go 

Siei. Thy crjatal window ope; look out; 

No longer exercise 

Upon a valiant race thy harsh 

And potent injuries. 

JlotL Since, Jupiter, our son is good. 

Take off hia roiseries. 
Siei Peep through thy marble mansion; help; 
Or we poor ghosts will cry 
To tbe shining synod of the rest 

Against thy deit;. ho 

Both Bro. Help, Jupiter; or we appeal. 
And &om thy justice fly. 

JcriTER (leteendt in thunder and lightaiiig, 
tiitiiig upon an eagU; he Ihrotct a thunder- 
Mi. The Ghotttftdl on their ineet. 

'"P- Ho more, you petty spiiita of region low, 

OfFeud our hearing; bush! How dare you 

Accuse tbe tbunderer. whose bolt, you know, 
Sky-i^anted, batters all rebelling coasts! 



Poor shadows of ESjinum, hence; and rest < 

Upon your never-withering bank of flowers: << 
Be not with mortal accidents opprest; M> 

No care of yours it is; you know 'tis ours. > 
Whom beat I love I crooe; to moke mj gift, < 

The more delay'd, delightwL' Be content;) 
Your low-laid eon our godhead will uplift: > 

His comforts thriTe. his trials well are sjieiit. ' 




— Riw, and, 



fado!- 



' FnHful, lich tn |ood qualities. 



Jl be lord of Udy Imogen, i 

And happiermuch by hia affliction made. \ 

lliis tablet lay upon his breast; wherein > 

Our pleasure his full fortune doth conline:'! 

And so, away! no further with your din Itl ', 

Express impatiencB, lest you stir up mine. — J 

Mount, eagle, to my palace crystalline. ( 

[Aicrndt. ? 

Siei. H«cameiathunder;hiBceleatiul breath) 



• DeligUril, dellghttuL 






ACT V. Scene 4. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT V. SoeiKO 4. 



Was sulphurous to smell: the holy eagle ii5 
Stoop'd, as to foot us:^ his ascension is 
More sweet than our blest fields: his royal bird 

> Prunes the immortal wing, and cloys' his beak, 
^ As when his god is pleased. 

All. Thanks, Jupiter! 

Sid. The marble pavement closes, he is entered 
/ His radiant roof. — Away ! and, to be blest, 
/Let us with care perform his great behest 

[The Ghosts vanish. 
Post. [ Waking] Sleep, thou hast been a grand- 
sire, and begot 123 

< A father to me; and thou hast created 

^ A mother and two brothers: but — O scorn! — 
( Gone ! they went hence so soon as they were 

< bom: 

< And so I am awake. — Poorwretchesthatdepend 
On greatness' favour dream as I have done; 

! Wake, and find nothing. — But, alas, I swerve:^ 

^ Many dream not to find, neither deserve, 130 

^ Ajid yet are steep'd in favours; so am I, 

^That have this golden chance, and know not 

^ why. 

^What fairies haunt this ground? A book?* 

1^ O rare one ! 

^Be not, as is our f angled* world, a garment 

''Nobler than that it covers: let thy effects 

< So follow, to be most unlike our courtiers, 

J As good as promise. [Reads. 

^ *' Whenas a lion's whelp shall, to himself unknown, 
i without seeking find, and be embraced by a piece of 
I tender air; and when from a stately cedar shall be 
' lopp'd branches, which, being dead many years, shall 

> after revive, be jointed to the old stock, and freshly 
I grow; then shall Posthumus end his miseries, Britain 

be fortunate, and flourish in peace and plenty." 

T is still a dream ; or else such stuff as madmen 
; Tongue, and brain not: either both, or nothing: 
Or senseless speaking, or a speaking such 
I As sense cannot untie. But what it is, 
The action of my life is like it, which iso 

'I '11 keep, if but for sympathy. 

lie-enter First Gaoler. 

First Gaol. Come, sir, are you ready f ordeath? 
Post. Over- roasted rather ; ready long ago. 



1 To foot %u, to seize us in his talons. 
- Cloys, strokes with his claw. 
s Swervt, go astray, err. 
« A book, the Ublet of Hue 109. 
* Fangled, fond of finery. 

138 



First Oaol. Hanging is the word, air: if you 
be ready for that, you are well cook'd. ) 

Post. So, if I prove a good repast to the spec- '/ 
tators, the dish pays the shot 

First Gaol. A heavy reckoning for you, sir. 
But the comfort is, you shall be called to no 
more payments, fear no more tavern -bills; 
which are often the sadness of parting, as the-, 
procuring of mirth: you come in faint for want ' 
of meat, depart reeling with too much drink ;^ 
sorry that you have paid too much, and sorry >' 
that you are paid too much; purse and brain ) 
both empty, — the brain the heavier for being ; 
too light, the purse too light being drawn • of > 
heaviness: of this contradiction you shall now ] 
be quit — O the charity of a penny cord I it 
sums up thousands in a trice: you have no true 
debitor and creditor^ but it; of what 's past, i 
is, and to come, the discharge: — your neck, sir, i 
is pen, book, and counters; so the acquittance ] 
follows. 174 > 

Post. I am merrier todie than thou art to live. / 

First Gaol. Indeed, sir, he that sleeps feels .■ 
not the toothache: but a man that were to' 
sleep your sleep, and a hangman to help him • 
to bed, I think he would change places with ; 
his officer; for, look you, sir, you know not^ 
which way you shall go. ( 

Post. Yes, indeed do I, fellow. iss '■ 

First Gaol. Your death has eyes in 's head, '- 
then; I have not seen him so pictured: you^ 
must either be directed by some that take upon \ 
them to know, or to take upon yourself that 
which I am sure you do not know; or jump® ; 
the after-inquiry on your own peril: and how - 
you shall speed in your journey's end, I think 
you '11 never return to tell one. 191 

Post. I tell thee, fellow, there are none want 
eyes to direct them the way I am going, but 
such as wink and will not use theuL 

First Gaol. What an infinite mock is this, 
that a man should have the best use of eves ; 
to see the way of blindness ! I am sure hang- 
ing 's the way of winking. 

Enter a Messenger. 

Mess. Knock off his manacles ; bring your 
prisoner to the king. 200 

* Drawn, drawu off. emptied. 

1 Dfhitor and creditor, account-book. * Jump, skip. 



ACT V. Soena 4. 



CYMBELINK 



ACT V. Soene 6. 



Pott. Thou bringest good news, — I am call'd 
< to be made free. 202 

$ Fir8t Gad. I '11 be hang'd, then. 
^ Post. Thou shalt be then freer than a gaoler; 
^no bolts for the dead. 

) [Exeunt Posthumus and Messenger. 

\ First Gaol, Unless a man would marry a 
^gallows, and beget young gibbets, I never saw 
/one so prone.^ Yet, on my conscience, there 
^are verier knaves desire to live, for all he be 
^a Itoman: and there be some of them too that 
^'die against their wills; so should I, if I were 
one. I would we were all of one mind, and 
one mind good; O, there were desolation of 
'gaolers and gallowses! I speak against my 

■ present profit; but my wish hath a preferment 
an't] [Exeunt. 

Scene V. The same. Cymbelinf^s tent. 

Enter Cthbeline, Belarius, Guiderius, 
Arviraqus, Pisanio, Lords^ Officers^ and 
Attendants. 

Cym. Stand by my side, you whom the gods 
have made 
Preservers of my throne. Woe is my heart 
That the poor soldier, that so richly fought. 
Whose rags sham'd gilded arms, whose naked 

breast 
Stepped before targes of proof, cannot be found : 
He shall be happy that can find him, if 
Our grace can make him so. 
^ Q Bel. I never saw 

;;Such noble fury in so poor a thing; 

■ Such precious deeds in one that promised naught 
', But beggary and poor looks. 

; Cym. No tidings of himl^ 

Pis. He hath been searched among the dead 
and living, 11 

But no trace of him. 

Cym. To my grief, I am 

The heir of his reward; which I will add 
To you, the liver, heart, and brain of Britain, 
[To Belariusy Guiderius^ and Arviragus. 
By whom I grant she lives. T is now the time 
To ask of whence you are: — report it 

Bel. Sir, 

In Cambria are we bom, and gentlemen: 

1 Prone, eager for the gtUowt. 



Further to boast were neither true nor modest, 
Unless I add we 're honest 

Cym. Bow your knees. 

Arise my knights o' the battle: I create you 
Companions to our person, and will fit you 
With dignities becoming your estates. 22 

ErUer Cornelius and Ladies. 

[There's business in these faces. — Why so sadly i 
Greet you our victory? you look like Romans, 1 
And not o* the court of Britain. ] 

Cor. Hail, great king I 

To sour your happiness, I must report 
The queen is dead. 

Cym, Q Who worse than a physician i 

Would this report become? But I consider 
By medicine life may be prolonged, yet death i 
Will seize the doctor too. — 3 How ended she?^^ 

Cor. With horror, madly dying, like her life; 
Which, being cruel to the world, concluded 
Most cruel to herself. Q What she confessed 5 
I will report, so please you: these her women! 
Can trip me, if I err; who with wet cheeks 
Were present when she finished. 

Cym. Prithee, say. 

Cor. First, she confess'd she never lov'di 

you; only 87 1 

Affected greatness got by you, not you: 

Married your royalty, was wife to your place;! 

Abhorr'd your person. 

Cym. She alone knew this; ! 

And, but she spoke it d3dng, I would not 
Believe her lips in opening it Proceed. 

Cor. Your daughter, whom she bore in; 
hand' to love 
With such integrity, she did confess 
Was as a scorpion to her sight; whose life. 
But that her flight prevented it, she had 
Ta'en off by poison. 

Cym. O most delicate fiend! 

Who is't can read a woman? — Is there more? 

Cor. More, sir, and worse. She did confess i; 
she had 
For you a mortal mineral; which, being took,! 
Should by the minute feed on life, and, linger- ! 



»ng. 



61 



By inches waste you: in which time she pur- 
posed, 

* Bore in hand, pretended. 
139 



ACT V. Scene 6. 



CYMBELINK 



ACT V. Boene 5w 



By watching, weeping, tendance, kissing, to 
Overcome you with her show; and in time. 
When she had fitted you with her craft, to work 
Her son into th' adoption of the crown: 
But, failing of her end by his strange absence, 
Grew shameless-desperate; open'd, in despite^ 
Of heaven and men, her purposes; repented 
The evils she hatched were not effected; so, 
Despairing, died 

Cym. Heard you all this, her women? 

Firgt Lady, We did, so please your highness. 

Cym. Mine eyes 

Were not in fault, for she was beautiful; as 
Mine ears, that heard her flatteiy; nor my 

heart. 
That thought her like her seeming; it had been 



vicious 



To have mistrusted her: yet, O my daughter! 
That it was folly in me, thou mayst say. 
And prove it in thy feeling. Heaven mend 
all!] 

Enter Lucius, Iachimo, the Soothsayer^ and 
other Roman PrUonen^ guarded; Post- 
humus behind^ and Imogen. 

Thou com'st not, Caius, now for tribute; that 
The Britons have razed out, though with the 

loss 70 

Of many a bold one; whose kinsmen have 

made suit 
That their good souls may be appeas'd with 

slaughter 
Of you their captives, which ourself have 

granted: 
So think of your estate. 
Luc, Ck)nsider, sir, the chance of war: the 

day 
Was yours by accident; had it gone with us, 
We should not, when the blood was cool, have 

threaten'd 
Our prisoners with the sword. But since the 

gods 78 

Will have it thus, that nothing but our lives 
May be call'd ransom, let it come: sufficeth 
A Roman with a Roman's heart can suffer: 
Augustus lives to think on 't: and so much 
For my peculiar * care. Tliis one thing only 
I will entreat; my boy, a Briton bom. 



> DtipiUt defiance. 



140 



s Pfculiar, personal. 



Let him be ranaom'd: never master bad 
A page so kind, so duteous, diligent. 
So tender over his occasions,' true, 
So feat,^ so nurse-like: let his virtue join 
With my request, which I '11 make bold your 
highness 89 

Cannot deny; he hath done no Briton harm, 
Though he have serv'd a Roman: save him^ air^ 
And spare no blood beside. 

Cym, I 've surely seen him: 

His favour is familiar to me. — Boy, 
Thou hast look'd thyself into my grace, 
And art mine own. — I know not why, where- 
fore. 
To say "Live, boy:" ne'er thank thy master; 

live: 
And ask of Cymbeline what boon thou wilt, 
Fitting ray bounty and thy state, I '11 give it; 
Yea, though thou demand a prisoner, 9» 

The noblest ta'en. 

Jmo, I humbly thank your highness. 

Luc, I do not bid thee beg my life, good lad; 
And yet I know thou wilt 

Imo. No, no: alack. 

There 's other work in hand: I see a thing 
Bitter to me as death: your life, good master. 
Must shuffle for itself. 

Luc. [The boy disdains me, 3 

He leaves me, scorns me: briefly die their joys 
That place them on the truth of girls and boys. — 
Q Why stands he so perplex'd ? ] 

Cym, What wouldst thou, boy ? 

I love thee more and more: think more and 

more 
What 's best to ask. Know'st him thou look'st 
on? speak, no 

Wilt have him live? Is he thy kin? thy 
friend? 

Imo, He is a Roman; no more kin to me 
Than I to your highness; who, being bom 

your vassal, 
Am something nearer. 

Cym. Wherefore ey'st him so? 

/mo. I '11 tell you, sir, in private, if you please 
To give me hearing. 

Cym, Ay, with all my heart, 

And lend my best attention. What's thy 
name? 

s Tender over hie oeeasione, keenly awake to hii wanta. 
* Feat, neat, trim. 



ACT V. 8O01M ft. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT Y. Soene ft. 



Imo. Fidele, sir. 

Cym, Thou'rt my good youth, my page; 

I '11 be thy master: walk with me; speak freely. 

[Cymbeline and Imogen converse apart, 

Bel, Is not this boy reviv'd from death? 

Arp, One sand another 

Not more resembles that sweet rosy lad 121 

Who died, and was Fidele. — What think you? 

Gui. The same dead thing alive. 
J ^BeL Peace, peace! see further; he eyes us 
i not; forbear; 

/Creatures may be alike: were 't he, I 'm sure 
/ He would have spoke to us. 

Out. But we saw him dead. 

{ Bel. Be silent; let 's see further. 
> Pie. [Aside'] T is my mistress: 

r Since she is living, let the time run on 
i To good or bad.^ 

[Cymbeline and Imogen come forward. 
Cym. Come, stand thou by our side; 

Make thy demand aloud. — [To lachimo] Sir, 
step you forth; 130 

Give answer to this boy, and do it freely; 
; Or, by our greatness, [and the grace of it, 
J Which is our honour,] bitter torture shall 
Winnow the truth from falsehood. — On, speak 
to him. 
Imo. My boon is, tliat this gentleman may 
render 
Of whom he had this ring. 

Post [Aside] What's that to him? 

Cym. That diamond upon your finger, say 
How came it yours? 

lach. Thou 'It torture me to leave unspoken 
that 139 

Which, to be spoke, would torture thee. 
Cym. How! me? 

lach, I 'm glad to be constrain'd to utter that 
Which t6rments me to conceal. By villany 
I got this ring: 'twas Leonatus' jewel; 
Whom thou didst banish; and — which more 

may grieve thee. 
As it doth me — a nobler sir ne'er liv'd 
Twixt sky and ground. Wilt thou hear more, 
my lord? 
Cym, All that belongs to this. 
lack. That paragon, thy daughter, — 

For whom my heart drops blood, and my false 

spirits 
Quail to remember — Give me leave; I faint 



Cym, My daughter! what of her? Renew 

thy strength: 150 

I had rather thou shouldst live while nature 

will 
Than die ere I hear more : strive, man, and 

speak. 
lacL Upon a time, — unhappy was the clock 
That struck the hour! — it was in Rome, — 

accurs'd 
The mansion where! — 't was at a feast, — O, 

would 
Our viands had been poison'd, or at least 
Those which I heav'd to head! — the good 

Posthiimus — 
[ What should I say? he was too good to be 
Where ill men were; and was the best of all 
Amongst the rar'st of good ones — sitting sadly. 
Hearing us praise our loves of Italy iGi 

For beauty that made barren the swell'd boast 
Of him that best could speak ; for feature,^ 

laming 
The shrine* of Venus, or straight- pight' 

Minerva, 
Postures beyond brief nature ; for condition,^ 
A shop of all the qualities that man 
Loves woman for; besides, that hook of wiving. 
Fairness which strikes the eye, — ] 

Cym. QI stand on fire:] 

Come to the matter. 

Q lack. All too soon I shall, 

Unless thou wouldst grieve quickly. — This 

Posthiimus, 170 

Most like a noble lord in love, and one 
That had a royal lover, took his hint; 
And, not dispraising whom we prais'd, — 

therein 
He was as calm as virtue, — he began 
His mistress' picture; which by his tongue 

being made. 
And then a mind put in 't, either our brags 
Were crack'd of kitchen-trulls, or his descrip- 
tion 
Prov'd us unspeaking sots.^ 

Cym. Nay, nay, to the purpose.] 

lack. Your daughter's chastity — there it 

begina 179 

1 Feature, shape. > Shrine, image. 

s Straight-pight, well Mt up, erect 

* CondUion, character. 

< Unepeaking tots, fools incapable of speech. 

141 



ACT V. Soene 6. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT V. Soeno 5u 



He spake of her, as Dian had hot dreams, 
And she alone were cold: whereat I, wretch, 
Made scruple^ of his praise; and wager'd with 

him 
Pieces of gold 'gainst this which then he wore 
Upon his honour'd finger, to attain 
In suit the place of 's bed, and win this ring 
By hers and mine adultery. He, true knight, 
No lesser of her honour confident 
Than I did truly find her, stakes this ring; 
Q And would so, had it been a carbuncle 1S9 
Of Phoebus' wheel; and might so safely, had it 
Been all the worth of 's car. ] Away to Britain 
Post I in this design: — well may you, sir, 
Kemember me at court; where I was taught 
Of your chaste daughter the wide diflference 
^ Twixt amorous and villanous. [ Being thus 



'< 



^ quench'd 
^Of hope, not longing, mine Italian brain 
;Gan in your duller Britain operate 
pMost vilely; for my vantage, excellent:] 
And, to be brief, my practice so prevail'd 
That I return'd with simular^ proof enough 
To make the noble Leonatus mad, 201 

By wounding his belief in her renown 
^With tokens thus and thus; f averring notes 
'<' Of chamber-hanging, pictures, this her brace- 
( let,- 

• O cunning, how I got it !^— nay, some marks 
^Of secret on her person,] that he could not 
But think her bond of chastity quite crack'd, 
I having ta'en the forfeit. Whereupon — 
Methinks, I see him now — 

Post. \Comiiig forward] Ay, so thou dost, 
Italian fiend! — Ay me, most credulous fool. 
Egregious murderer, thief, any thing 211 

That's due to ^ all the villains past, in being. 
To come! — O, give me cord, or knife, or poison. 
Some upright justicerl Thou, king, send out 
For torturers ingenious: it is I 
That all th' abhorred things o' th' earth amend 
By being worse than they. I am Posthiimus, 
That kill'd thy daughter: — villain-like, I lie; 
That caus'd a lesser villain than mvself, 
A sacrilegious thief, to do't: — the temple 220 
Of virtue was she; yea, and she* herself. 
Spit, and throw stones, cast mire upon me, set 

1 Scruple, doubt * Simular, probable. 

3 Due to, appropriate to, bad enough to describe. 
* $he, virtue. 

142 



The dogs o' the street to bay me: every villain 
Be call'd Poethiimus Leonatus; and 
Be villany less than 'twas! — O Imogen! 
My queen, my life, my wife! O Imogen, 
Imogen, Imogen! 

Imo, Peace, my lord; hear, hear — 

Post, Shall 's have a play of this? Thou 
scornful page. 
There lie thy part [StriHng her; she falls. 

Pis, O, gentlemen, help! 

Mine and your mistress! — O, my lord Post- 
hdmus! 2S0 

You ne'er kill'd Imogen till now. — Help^ 

help!— 
Mine honour'd lady! 

Ci/in, Does the world go round? 

Post, How comes these staggers on me? 

Pis, Wake, my mistress I 

Ci/m. If this be so, the gods do mean to 
strike me 
To death with mortal joy. 

Pis. How fares mv mistress? 

^Imo, O, get thee from my sight; J 

Thou gav'st me poison : dangerous fellow, hence I ) 
Breathe not where princes are. } 

Cym, The tune of Imogen I J 

Pis. Lady, 239- 

The gods throw stones of sulphur^ on me, if 
That box I gave you was not thought by me 
A precious tiling; I had it from the queen. 

Cym, New matter still? 

Into, It poison'd me. 

Cor. O gods! — ! 

I left out one thing which the queen con- 

fess'd. 

Which must approve thee honest: " If PisanioiJ 
Have," said she, " given his mistress that con- ^ 
fection I 

Which I gave him for cordial, she is serv'd \ 
As I would serve a rat" 

Cym, What's this, CorneliuB?< 

Cor. The queen, sir, very oft imp6rtun'd me 
To temper poisons for her; still pretending ( 
The satisfaction of her knowledge only 251 ^ 
In killing creatures vile, as cats and dogs, > 
Of no esteem: I, dreading that her purpoee \ 
Was of more danger, did com|>ound for her ^ 
A certain stuff, which, being ta'en, w^ould cease ^ 

* Stons4 qf tulphur, i.e. thunderbolts. 



CYMBELINE. 



HKpresent power of life; but in short time 
. All offices of nature should again 
'. Do their due functions.— Have you ta'en of i t ? 
' Imo. Most like I did, for I was dead. 

Bd. My boys, 

There was our error. 

y fto, This is, sure, Fidale.] 

Imo. Why did you throw your wedded lady 
from yout mi 

niink that you are upon a rock; and now 
Thro* me again. [Embracing him. 

Pmc. Uang there like fruit, iny soul. 

Till the tree die! 

Qm. How now, my flesh, my childl 

^bat, mak'st thou me a duUard in this act! 
Wit tbon not speak to me? 

/mo. Your blessing, sir. [Kneelijig. 

- ZBd. Though you did love this youth, I 

blune ye not; 
. 'do had a motive for 't. 

[To Oaidtriut and Anftrofftu.'^ 
Cyn. My tears that fall 

ftoTC holy water on thee! Imogen, 
Tly mother's dead. 
I'M. I 'm Borry for 't, my lord. 

Qw. 0, she was naught; and long of her 
it was 271 

Hat we meet here so strangely ; but her son 
bgone, we know not how nor where. 
; [Pip. My lord, 

;Sowfear is from me, I'll speak troth.* Lord 

tloten, 
' Upon my lady's miming, came to me 
Vithhis sword drawn ; foam'd at the month, 

; " I diacover'd not which way she was gone, 
Itwumy inatant death. By accident, 
I had a feigned letter of my master's 
TiKa b my pocket; which directed him Ko 
ToKek heron the mountains near to Milford; 
^^here, in a frenzy, in my master's garments, 
Which he enfore'd from me, away he posts 
Witt onchaste purpose, and with oath to 
violate 

My huly's honour; what became of him 

Ifurtherknow not] 
On. Let me end the story: 

I ilew him there. 



Cytn. Marry, the gods forfendl 

Q I would not thy good deeds should from my l> 

Pluck a bard sentence: prithee, valiant youth, ^ 

Deny 't again. i 

Qui. I've spoke it, and I did it > 




Ct/m. He was a prince. 2 iei 

Gui. A most incivil one: the wrongs he 
did me 
Were nothing piince-like; forhedid provoke 

With language that would make me spurn 

the sea, 
If it could so roar to me: I cut off's head; 
And am right glad he is not standing here 
To teil this tale of mine. 
Cym. I 'm sorry for thee: 

143 



ACT V. Scene 5. 



CYMBELINK 



ACT T. Some 8. 



By thine own tongue thou art condemned, 
and must 296 

£ndure our law: thou 'rt dead. 

( [ Imo. That headless man 

/ 1 thought had been my lord. 

J Ct/m.2 Bind the offender, 

And take him from our presence. 

Bel. Stay, sir king: 

This man is better than the man he slew. 
As well descended as thyself; and hath 
More of thee merited than a band of Clotens 
Had ever scar for.^ — [To the Guard'\ Let his 

arms alone; 
They were not born for bondage. 

Cynu Why, old soldier. 

Wilt thou undo the worth thou art impaid for. 
By tasting of our wrath? How of descent 
As good as we? 

^ {^Arv. In that he spake too far. 

^ Cym. And thou shalt die for 't. 

j; Bd, We will die all three, 

<! But I will prove* tliat two on 's are as good 

< As I have given out him. — My sons, I must, 

' For mine own part, unfold a dangerous speech, 

< Though, haply, well for you. 

i Arv. Your danger 's ours. 

; Gui. And our gocxl his. 

] Bel, Have at it then, by leave. 

/ Thou hadst, great king, a subject who 

^WascairdBelarius. 

/ Cym. What of him? he is 

^A banish'd traitor. 

^ Bel. He it is that hath sis 

/ Assum'd this age: indeed, a banish'd man; 

/ 1 know not how a traitor. 

<' Cym. Take him hence: 

^The whole world shall not save him. 

Bel. Not too hot: 

. First pay me for the nursing of thy sons; 
^ And let it be confiscate all, so soon 
' As I 've received it. 
^ Cym. Nursing of my sons! ] 

Bel. lam too blunt and saucy : here 's my knee : 
■ QElre I arise, I will prefer^ my sons; 
iThen spare not the old father.] Mighty sir. 
These two young gentlemen, thatcall me father, 

1 Had ever icar for, had ever ihown any evidence of 
meriting. 

* Bui I tcill prove, if I do not prove. 

* Frefer^ promote. 

144 



And think they are my sons, are tione of mine; 
They are the issue of your loins, my liege, 
And blood of your begetting. 

Cym. How! my issue! 

Bel. So sure as you your father's. I, old 
Moi^n, 83S 

Am that Belarius whom you sometime banish'd : 
Your pleasure was my mere offence,* my pun- 
ishment 
Itself, and all my treason; that I suffer'd 
Was all the harm I did. These gentle princes — 
For such and so they are — these twenty years 
Have I train'd up: those arts they have as I 
Could put into them[|; my breeding was, sir, as \ 
Your highness know& Their nurse, Euriphile, ^ 
Whom for the theft I wedded, stole these chil- ; 
dren S4i 

Upon my banishment: I mov'd her to't; 
Having receiv'd the punishment before, 
For that which I did then: beaten for loyalty i 
Excited me to treason: their dear loss, / 

The more of you 't was felt, the more it shap'd ; 
Unto my end of stealing them ]• But, gracious ' 

sir, 
Here are your sons again; and I must lose 
Two of thesweef st companions in the world: — 
The benediction of these covering heavens 
Fall on their heads like dew I for they are worthy 
To inlay heaven with stars. 

Cym. Q Thou weep'st, and speak'st' 

The service that you three have done is morej 
Unlike than this thou tell'st.] I lost my chil-^. 
dren: VA 

If these be they, I know not how to wish 
A pair of worthier sons. 

Q Bel. Be pleas'd awhile. — ■; 

This gentleman, whom I call Polydore, 
Most worthy prince, as yours, is true Guiderius: :; 
This gentleman, my Cadwal, Arviragus, 
Your younger princely son: he, sir, was lapp'd 
In a most curious mantle, wrought by th' hand ; 
Of hisqueen-mother, which, for more probation, ; 
I can with ease produce. \ 

Cym.'\ Guiderius had ; 

Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star; 964 
It was a mark of wonder. 

Bd. This is he; 

Who hath upon him still that natural stamp: 

4 J/y mvre offenee, all my offence. 



.0 



'/f. 




ACT ?. SoBDe 5. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT V. Soene 5. 



It was wise nature's eud in the donation, 
To be his evidence now. 
/ Cym, [ O, what, am I 

A mother to the birth of three ? Ne'er mother 
; Rejoic'd deliverance more. — ] Bless'd pray you 
be, 370 

Tliat,after this strange starting from your orbs, 
You may reign in them now! — O Imogen, 
Hioa iiast lost by this a kingdom. 

/wo. No, my lord; 

I "ve got two worlds by 't — O my gentle bro- 
thers. 
Hive we thus met ? O, never say hereafter 
Butlam tniest speaker: you call'd me brother. 
When I was but your sister; I you brothers, 
When ye were so indeed. 
\ [Cy«i. Did you e'er meet? 

> An. Ay, my good lord. 
\ Oui And at first meeting lov'd; 

/Coutinu'd so, until we thought he died. sso 
Cor. By the queen's di-am she swallow'd.] 
()/m. O rare instinct! 

[When shall I hear all through? This fierce^ 

abridgment 
Hath to it circumstantial branches, which 
Distinction- sliould be rich in. — Where? how 
liv'd y(iu ? 
^' AihI when came you to serve our Roman cap- 
tive ? 
; How parted with your brothers? how first met 

them? 
; Why fled vou from the court? and whither? 

These, 
: And your three motives to the battle, with 
-I know not how much more, should be de- 
manded; 
'. And ail the other by-dependencies, S90 

From chance to chance: but nor the time nor 

f^ce 
Will stfrve our long interrogatories. See, 
PoethtJimus anchors upon Imogen; 
And Hhe, like hamdess lightning, throws her 

eve 
On him, her brothers, me, her master, hitting 
E^'h object with a joy; the countercliange^ 
le severally in alL — Let 's quit this ground, 
And lunoke the temple with our sacrifices. — "2 

1 Fierce, pasiionate, impetuous. 

s Dietinetion, a more detailed statement 

s Ccunterehartffe, reciprocation. 

VOL. VII. 



[To Belaritui] Thou art my brother; so we'll 
hold thee ever. 
Jmo. You are my father too; and did relieve 



me. 



400 



To see this gracious season. 

Ci/m. All o'erjo/d. 

Save these in bonds: let them be joyful too. 
For they shall taste our comfort 

C Imo. My good master, J 

I will yet do you service. ^ 

Zmc. Happy be you! J 

Cyni.Jl The f6rlom soldier, that so nobly ^, 
fought, 
He would have well becom'd this place, and 

grac'd 
The thankings of a king. 

Post. 1 am, sir, 

The soldier that did company these three 
In poor beseeming; 't was a fitment for 409 
The purpose I then follow'd. — That I was he, 
Speak, lachimo: I liad you down, and might 
Have miide you finish. 

Jack. I am down again: [Kneelvig. 

But now my heavy conscience sinks my knee. 
As then your force did. Take that life, be- 
seech you, . 
Which I so often owe: but your ring first; 
And here the bracelet of the ti-uest princess 
That ever swore her faith. 

Post. • Kneel not to me: 

Tlie power that I have on you is to spare you; 
The malice towards you to forgive you: live. 
And deal with others better. 

Cym. Nobly doom'd! 

We '11 learn our freeness* of a son-in-law; 
Pardon 's the word to alL 

^Arv. You holp us, sir, )_ 

As you did mean indeed to be our brother; 
Joy'd are we that you are. 424 ' 

Post. Your servant, princes. — Good my lord 
of Home, 
Call forth your soothsayer: as I slept, me- 

thought 
Great Jupiter, upon his eagle back'd, 
Appear'd to me, with other spritely shows ; 
Of mine own kindred: when I wak'd, I founds 
This label on my bosom; whose containing : 
Is so fi*om sense in hardness, tliat I can 



« Freeneu, liberality. 
145 



176 



ACT V. Scene 6. 



CYMBELINE. 



ACT V. Scene S. 



, Make no collection of it:^ let him show 432 

''His skill in the construction. 

( Imc Philarmonns, — 

< Sooth, Here, my good lord. 
Luc, Read, and declare the meaning. 
Sooth, [Reads] " Whenas a lion's whelp shall, to 

} himself unknown, without seeking find, and be em- 
>brac'd by a piece of tender air; and when from a 
^stately cedar shall be lopp'd branches, which, being 
^ dead many years, shall after revive, be jointed to the 
' old stock, and freshly grow ; then shall Posthumus 
'end his miseries, Britain be fortunate, and flourish 
/in peace and plenty." 442 

;^Thou, Leonatus, art the lion's whelp; 
^The fit and apt construction of thy name, 
.Being Leo-natus, doth import so much: 
/ [To Cymheline] The piece of tender air, thy 
[t virtuous daughter, 
^ Which we call mollis a^r; and mollis aer 
( We term it mulier: which miUier I divine 
/Is this most constant wife; [To Fosthumtts] 

< who,* even now, 

•Answering the letter of the oracle, 450 

i Unknown to you, unsought, were clipp'd about 

< With this most tender air. 

;! Ci/m. This hath some seeming. 

■ Sooth. The lofty cedar, royal Cymbeline, 
: Personates thee: and thy lopp'd branches point 
Tliy two sons forth; who, by Belarius stol'n, 
^ For many years thought dead, are now revived, 
fTo the majestic cedar join'd; whose issue 
[ Promises Britain peace and plenty. 



1 No eMeetion qf it, no inference from it 
* Who, te. yon who. 

146 



i 



Cym, Well, J 

My peace we will begin: — and, Cains Lucius, .' 
Although the victor, we submit to Cseaar, 4eo) 
And to the Roman empire; promising )^ 

To pay our wonted tribute, from the which ; 
We were dissuaded by our wicked queen; 
Whom heavens, in justice, both on her and hers, ■ 
Have laid most heavy hand. 

Sooth, The fingers of the powers above do' 
tune 
The harmony of this peace. The vision 
Which I made known to Lucius, ere the stroke ^ 
Of this yet scarce-cold battle, at this instant 
Is full accomplish'd ; for the Roman eagle, 
From south to west on wing soaring aloft, 
Lessen'd herself, and in the beams o' the sun 
So vanish'd; which foreshow'd our princely 
eagle, 478 

Th' imperial Csesar, should again unite 
His favour with the radiant Cymbeline, 
Which shines here in the west.] 

Cym, Laud we the gods; 

And let our crooked smokes climb to their 

nostrUs 
From our blest altars. Publish we this peace 
To all our subjects. Set we forward: let 
A Roman and a British ensign wave 480 

Friendly together: so through Lud's-town 

march: 
And in the temple of great Jupiter 
Our peace we '11 ratify f; seal it with feasts. — 
Set on there]! — Never was a war did cease, - 
Ere blooiiy hands were wash'd, with such a 
peace. [Exeunt. 



1 


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SOUTHERN BRITAIN 
CYMBELINE 


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4 



NOTES TO CYMBELINE. 



'MndCitHiicii 



DRAMATIS PERSONS, 
uiwledga of tha htilorj of BriUin dujUig tb6 
wi wUcb slupKd betwcsa the aepirtun of 
iriDM BLC. ami UielavuiuDpf Aulu> Flautliu 
>C dacriptlou. and li chiefly 



lt«[ 



e Ihfl molt powerful phaca in 
irCTMBIUNI, wb«a capital 
*■ dmuloduiiuin (Colcbnter). but Utile or notbiog It 
^""na hlid. Mcept that ho had iKiii caUed Adminliu, 
■kowirendtwd hinuelf W Caligula in the ytar «, and 
"^ othrti called Caratacoa and Tugodnnmoi. who wen 
''^oiri \,j plaaUiia. Shakeipean drew hli hlitoiy, ai 
*■»!. fnni Holluihed. but the Invaaion of the Runiaiu 
■Mt (Uui Luciua, ai weU ai the whole atorj of BclMiiu 



ig prtncea, li 



lof bl 



'"^'ii* u RoUiuhed'a accDnnt of Crmbetlo 
'•'Mil If CaMlheUoe Ifaialvelaunoi]. Theomantlua or 
ToHUiH the 7O0ngeat loane ol Lud, waa made King of 
^•'•he. . . . Theomantiiu ruled the land In good 
tun. tnd paid tb* tribute to Che aomani whiuh Caial- 
WUa« had cnatod. and nnalle departed thia lite after 
^ Ittd rdgDCd St jeaiea, and waa burled at London. 



. . , Ki'mbeliue uTChnbelinotbeionneot Theoman- 
thii wu of the Urilalni made king after the deceaue of 
hl> father. . . . Thli man (aiume wijte) waa brought 
vp at Bome and there made hnlght hj Augoitui Ccaar. 
under whome he lerved in the warrei, and wa* In luch 
fauour with him, (hat he waa >t libertle to pay hia tribute 
or not . . . Touching the continuance of tlie yearea 
of Kjmlielinei reigue, lunie writen doo rarle, but the 

then died, and waa buried at London, leailng behind him 
two aonnea. Qulderiua and Aruiragua, But her« It la b> 
be noted, that although oar hlalorieado« aUrme. that a* 
well thla KymbeUne, aa alao hit father TheonianUui. llued 
In quiet with the Komaua. and contlnuallle to them paled 
the trlbutet which the Britalnahad couenauted with loUua 
Ceiar to pay. ret we flud in the Eoraaue vrlten, that 
after lullut Cetara death, whan Auguatua had taken 
vpgQ hlni the rule uf tha empire, the Urltalnt refuaed to 
pale Chat IribuCe; whereaCaiComelluaTacltnaieporteth. 

wioke, howbelt, through eameat calllug >poa to recorer 
hIa righC by luch aa were deilrout to tea the vtlenoDit of 
the Britlab Klngdome^ at length, to wit, hi the tenth yaare 
after the death of Iiitina <Jeaar, which waa about the 
147 



Dramatifl Penoiuo. 



NOTES TO CYMBELINE. 



ACTL 



thirteenth yeare of the said Theomantius, Augustus made 
proulsioD to passe with au armie ouer into Britaine, & 
was come forward upon his ioumie into Oallla Celtica: or 
as we male sale, into these hither parts of France. . . . 
[He was, however, called away by a rebellion of the 
Pannonians and Dalmatians (act iii. 1. 73-75).] But 
whether this controversie wliicli appeareth to fall forth 
betwixt the Bdtalns and Augustus, was occasioned by 
Kymbeline, or some other prince of the Britains, I haue 
not to auouch: fur tliat by our writers it is reported, that 
Kymbeline being brought vp in Rome, & knighted in 
the court of Augustus, euer shewed himselfe a friend to 
the Bomans, & chieflie was loth to breake with them, 
because the youth of the Britaine nation should not be 
depriued of the benefit to be trained and brought vp 
among the Romans, whereby they might leeme both to 
))ehane themselues like ciulU men, and to attelne to the 
knowledge of feats of warre." 

2. Cloten. Iloliushed calls Mulmucius (act iii. 1. 55) 
"the Sonne of Cloton." 

8. FosTiiUMUS Leonatus. Maloiie suggests that Shake- 
speare got the name of Leonatus from Sidney's Arcadia. 
It is there the name of the sou of the blind king of Paphla- 
gonia, wliuse story Shakespeare had already drawn upon 
in writing King Lear. Steevens notes tliat the name 
Leonato liad been used in Much Adu, where, it may be 
added, the old stage-direction prefixed to act i. scene 1 
couples it with that of Imogen; see Mr. Marshall's note 
ad loe. vol iv. p. 224. 

4 Imogen. The name occurs in Holinshed's account 
of Brutus and Locrine. In the Tragedy of Locrine (1505), 
act L scene 1, Brutus addresses his sou Camber as. 

The K:lory of mine age. 
And darliu){ of tiiy tuotlier Imogen. 

Acrr I. scENK 1. 

6. Lines 1-S: 

our bloods 

Ao more obey the heaveiu than our courtiere 

StUl eeein as does the king's. 

Our bloods, i.e. our dispositions, subject as they are to 
the weather ("to all the skyey iuHuences," Measure for 
Measure, ill 1. 9), are not more entirely ruled by it than 
our courtiers are ruled by the king's disposition, to which 
they are careful to accommodate their looks, and when he 
frowns they frown. That this is the meaning Is clear from 
lines 13, 14: 

Although they wear tlieir faces to the bent 
Of the king's looks. 

The late Dr. Ingleby (Shakespeare's Cymbeline: The Text 
Revised and Annotated by C. M. Ingleby, LL.D. London, 
IImM ;— I wish at once to express my obligations to this 
scholarly edition, frequent references to which will be 
found In the course of these notes) quotes Comedy of 
Errors, IL 2. 32. 33: 

If you will Jest with me. know my asp^ 
And fashion your demeanour to my looks. 

And Steevens, Greene's Never Too Late (1600): "if the 
King smiled, every one in the court was in his JoUitie; if 
he frowned, their plumes fell like peacock's feathers; so 

148 



that their outward presence depended on his 
passions." 

Boswell was the first editor who explained thb 
rightly: previous editors were misled by the pone 
of the Folio: 

Our bloods no more obey the Hcauens 

Then our Courtiers : 

Still seeme, as do 's the Kings. 

6. Lines 0. 7: 

hath BBFK&R'D herst 

Unto a poor but worthy gentleman: she 's ved 

i.e. has put herself under his protection; haa» 
wedded him. The expression is quite in accordai 
the "picked" enigmatical style of the speaker, ai 
is no need to change it into prejerr'dt as Ingleby 

7. Lines 25-27: 

/ do EXTEND him, sir, tpithin himself; 

Crush him together, rather than ur\fold 

Ilis measure duly. 
So far from exaggerating his merits, I rather uoi 
them: the measure of his praises might be extendi 
further; or, as Johnson concisely puts it^ " my prai 
ever extensive, is within his merit" For extend, c 
i. 4. 19-21: "the approbation of those that we 
lamentable divorce . . . are wonderfully to 
him." 

& Lines 30, 31: Cassibelan . . . Tenantius.—Set 

9. Line 31: But had his titles by Tenantius.— 
though he had joined the party of the usurper [Casi 
he was forgiven and honoured by the rightful king 

10. Line 46: And in' 8 spring became a harvest.— 
compares Antony and Cleopatra, v. 2. 80-^ (witi 
bald's emendation of autumn for Anthony): 

For his bounty. 
There wa:> no winter in 't ; an autumn \ was 
That grew the more by reaping. 

11. Lines 48, 49: 

A sample to the youngest; to the more tnafv 
A glass that featbd them. 

He was a perfect model to the younger, while ev( 
I>eople could not fail to gain some graces and aoco 
ments from him. Feat (to make neat^ fashion 
elsewhere used as a verb in Shakespeare, but we 

as an adjective in v. 5. 85-88: 

never master had 
A page so kind, so duteous, diligent, . . . 
So/Shi/, so nurse-Uke ; 

and Tempest, ii 1. 272, 273: 

And look how well my garments sh upoo me; 
Much/lea/rr than before. 

For the thought Steevens compares IL Heoxy I 

21,22: 

he was indeed the glass 

Wherein the noble youth did dress themselves. 

12. Line 58: Mark it.— I'he Cowden Clarket i 
"Shakespeare's dramatic art uses this expedien 
rally introduced into the dialogue, to draw speda 
tion to a circumstance that it is essential should b 
in mind, and which otherwise might escape notto 
course of the narration." 



ACT I. 8oen« 1. 



NOTES TO CYMBELINE. 



ACT I. Soena S. 



IS. Line <J3: ThtU a king'i children ihould be «o OON- 
nmi—^ Two Gent of Verona, iiL 1. 3^-37. the duke 
fMring that his daughter will be stolen from him, lodges 
bar in a tower. 

The key whereof myself have erer kept ; 
And thence the cannot be conwy'd away. 

The word was also used as a cant term for eteal: Merry 
Whres. L 3. 80-34: 

Sym. The fifood httmour is to steal at a minim's rest 

PisL " Convty;' the wise it call " Steal 1 " foh ! a fico for the phrase I 

14 Line 70: Enter the QtiMn, Potthumtu^ and Imogen, 
-The Folio begins Seena Secitnda here, as do Capell, 
Ualooe, and others; Bowe was the first to continae 
Keoe 1 as in the text 

1& Lines 8&-88: 
I nomething fear my father's wrath; bttt nothing— 
Alwayt reeerv'd my holy duty— what 
Hi* rage can do on me. 

I nj I do not fear my father, so far as I may say it with- 
out breach of duty (Johnson). 

16l Lines 104, 105: 

/ neter do him xorong, 

But he doee buy my injuries, to be friends. 

He psjs me for the wrongs I do him by some new kind- 
MM, in order to be friends with me again; although the 
iBjved party, he is the first to make advances towards a 
Rconcillation. We have here our first hint of the weak- 
Deca u( Cymbeiine's character. 

17. UnesIie^llT: 

And SBAB UP my embracement* from a next 

With BONDS OF DEATH ! 

The honde of death are the cere-cloths, or cerements 
(Hamlet, i. 4. 48). in which the dead are swathed; l»ut cere- 
^^^n also written tear-eloth, and sear up will there- 
'll be the same as cere up (which Steevens suggested 
>od Grant White prlntedX ie. close up. It is probable, 
^erer. Uiat» as the Cowden darkes suggest, the other 
Koae of tears bum up, wither up, was also present to 
^ writer's mind. Ck)mpare Timou of Athens, iv. 3. 187, 

Entear thy fertile and conceptious womb. 
Let it no more bring out ingrateful man ! 

U. Lines 117, 118: 

Remain, remain thou here 

WkHe iente can keep it on / 

^ altered U to thee, but the change of person is not 

^oyoncommon; compare iiL 3. 103-105: 

Euriphile, 
Thou wast their nurse; they took thte for their mother. 
And every day do honour to Atr gn.ve ; 

*»ihr. in«-218: 

If be be gone, he 11 make his gtavt a bed ; 
With female fairies will his tomb be haunted. 
And worms will not come to thte. 

^ Une 124: When shall we SEE againf—Dyce remarks 
^ tile very same words are addressed by Creaaida to 
^01, Troilns and Cressida, iv. 8. 50. So Henry VIIL 
Ul,2: 

Good morrow, and well met How have ye done 

ttKt faul we MTW fai Francef 



SO. Line 120: If after this command thou fbauoht the 
eoiirf.— Shakespeare generally uses/ratij^Af as a participle 
= laden, as we do exclusively at the present day; but we 
tLndfraughted in The Passionate Pilgrim, 200, 270: 

O cruel speeding, 
FraughUtt with gall; 

soiAfraughting in The Tempeat, i. 2. 13: 

TYie/raughttHg souls within her. 

21. Line 128: And bleu the good remainders of the eouril 
—There ia a slight touch of irony here, which it may not 
be thought impertinent to point out Posthumus prays 
for a blessing on the good people left at the court, when 
it was relieved of the burden of his unworthiness. 

22. Lines 131-133: 

O disloyal thing. 

That shouldst repair my youth, thou heapeet 

A year's age on me ! 
Instead of making me young again, as a daughter would 
who was a comfort to her father, you make me feel a 
year older than I really am, in fact, you shorten my life. 



23. Lines 146-147: 



he is 



A man worth any woman; overbuys me 
A Imost the sum he pays. 

The price he has paid for me is himself; and he is worth 

so much more than I am,— worth, in fact, any woman,— 

that the overplus, beyond what he ought to have paid, 

nearly amounts to the whole sum paid. A very small 

portion of his worth would have been enough. Ingleby 

says: "Imogen adopts her husband's metaphor in lines 

[119, 120: 

As I my poor self did exchange for you. 

To your so infintte loss^ 

but in turning it against herself, increases the extrava- 
gance of the self-depreciation. She says, in effect, that 
in marrying her, Posthumus gets almost nothing in return 
for what he gives, his worth being so much greater than 
hers." 

24. Line 167: / would they -were in Afric both together. 
—"That is, " as Rolfe remarks, "where no one would be 
at hand to part them." He well compares Coriolanus, 

iv. 2. 23-26: 

I would my son 

Were in Arabia, and thy tribe before him. 
His good sword in his hand. 

26. Lines 177, 178: 

I pray you, npeak with me: you shaU at least 
Go see my lord aboard: for this time leave me. 

This is Capell's arrangement of the broken lines in the 

Folio; / is his insertion. 

ACrr I. SCKNE 2. 

26L "This scene is introduced," says Ingleby, "to show 
up Cloten in a character which— to Judge of his subse- 
({uent conduct— he hardly deserves, that of a conceited 
coward. The First Lord flatters him too grossly f (»r human 
credulity, and the Second Lord, by 'asides,' lampoons 
him, for the benefit of the groundlings. The allusions 
are obscure and the quibbles poor. It would be a relief 
to know that Shakespeare was not responsible for either 
this scene, or the first in act ii." 

149 



ACT I. SoeiM 8. 



NOTES TO CYMBELINK 



ACT L 8oeiM4 



27. Lines 1-5 : Sir, I tcoidd advi»e you to shift a ihirt; 
. . . where air comes out, air comes in: there's none 
ahroad so wholbsome as that jfou vent— This seema to 
mean— the air that exholei from a man'i person is again 
inhaled, and there is no air so wholesome as that which 
comes from you, therefore to keep up its purity change 
your shirt. 

28. Lines 10-12: his body's a passable carcass, if he be 
not hurt; it is a thrxnighfare for steely if it be not hurt. 
—The hest comment is Ariel's defiance, cited by Ingleby. 

Ter St, iiL 8. 61-06: 

the elements. 

Of whom your swords are temper'd, may as well 
Wound the loud winds, or with bemock*d-at stabs 
Kill the stiIl>cloidn{; waters, as diminish 
One dowle that 's in my plume. 

Cloten, says the First Lord, liad run Posthumus through 
and through so effectively that his body must be a thorough- 
fare for steel, if he be not hurt; it must be capable of being 
pierced, like water, without being wounded. 

29 Lines 13. 14: His steel vfos in debt; it went o* the 
backside the town. —Cloten paid off no scores with his steel, 
but kept out of harm's way, as a debtor might do to avoid 
arrest in a town (Ingleby). 

30. Lines 32-34: she's a good sign, but 1 have seen small 
reflection of her wU.— The metaphor is from the sign of a 
house, almost all of which, says Steevens, formerly had 
a motto or some attempt at a witticism underneath them. 
Malone quotes i. 0. 15-17, where lachimo says of Imogen, 

All of her that is out of door most rich ! 
If she be fumishd with a mind so rare. 
She is alone th' Arabian bird. 

ACT I. SCKNK 3. 

81. Lines 2-4: 

if he should write, 

And I not have it, 't were a paper lo$t. 
As offer' d mercy is. 

Capell explains this by reference to the pardon of a con- 
demned criminal ; but this is surely unnecessary. Ingleby 
well says, "Why strain the passage to mean more than it 
says? Imogen is simply declaring that Posthumus' letter 
would be to her as an offer of mercy, alleviating her pre- 
sent anxiety on his account; and if the letter be lost, the 
offer of mercy is lost also." 

82. Lines 8-10: 

for so long 

Ashe could make me wUh this eye or ear 
Distinguish him from otiters. 

The Folio has "his eye, or eare;" which, in spite of Ingle- 
by's attempt, it seems impossible to make decent sense 
of. Coleridge conjectured " witli the eye," first printed by 
Keightley. With this is Warburton's conjecture, adopted 
by most editors ; and with this may easily have passed 
into with his in the compositor's memory. 

88. Lines 14-16: 

Thou shouldst have made him 

As little as a crow, or less, ere left 

To after-eye him. 

Compare Lear, Iv. 6. IS, 14 (quoted by Steevens): 

150 



The crgvs and choughs that win^ the nddway air 
Show scarce so gross as beetles. 

81 Unei84,85: 

that parting kiss which I had set 

Betwixt two CHARMIKO word*. 

The word charming had not yet been weakened to il 
modem sense, in which it is merely a qmouym for tovel 
or delightful; it meant working with, or affecting witl 
a charm, and although in such a passage as Twelfth Ni|^ 
ii. 2. 19, 

Fortune forbid my outside have not charm'tl hal 

we see it on its way to its modem use. it always hai^ i 
Schmidt remarks, some trace of its primary aigniflcatioi 
Ingleby says, "The two charming words are certainly m 
what Warburton fixed upon— 'Adieu, Posthumus'— nc 
any mere words of farewell. Hudson rightly explaii 
them ' to be words which as by the power of enchantmcn 
should guard his heart against the assaults of temptatioi 
(Harvard ed.); and there is, not improbably, an allnaion t 
some custom of Shakespeare's own day." 

86. Lines 86, 37: 

And, like the tyrannous bretUhing of the north. 
Shakes ali our buds from growing. 

Not the fair bud of their adieus only, but all their bod 
the whole promis'd crop of their loves is shaken and bei 
to the ground by this " tyrannous breathing *' (Capell). 

ACT I. Scene 4. 

86. Lines 4, 6: but I could then have look'd on him wUl 
out the help of admiration. — Staunton and Ingleby hsn 
stumbled at these words, and the latter even caUs thei 
" very difficult" They are, however, perfectly simple t 
any one who reads the passage naturally: "without tl 
help of admiration" is merely an ironical expression f( 
"without admiration." lachimo means that he did w 
in those days see anything in Posthumus whidi wool 
have compelled him to call in the help of admiration i 
order to form a proper estimate of him. 

87. line 18: And t?ien his banishment— -ThtFrtnchms 
would have added, "has won him sympathy" (Ingleby) 

38. Lines 19-21 : the approbation qf those that wet 
this latnentable divorce . . . ARE wonderfully to ti 
tend him. — An instance of what Abbott (Shaks. Grin 
f 412) calls the " confusion of proximity," the verb ai 
agreeing with those rather than its proper subject appr 
bation. So Julius Ciesar, v. 1. S3: 

The posture o( your dlirwt are yet unknown. 

89. Lines 21-24: be it but to fortify her judgment. irAiV 

else an easy battery might lay flat, for taking a beggt 

without less quality.— This is one of those passages « 

which the meaning is clear enough, but which defy tl 

rules of logical construction. Compare Coriolanns, L 

13-16: 

Afar. Tullus Aufidiua, is lie within your wallsl 

First S<». No, nor a man that fears you les» than he. 

That 's lesser than a little. 

There, as well as in the passage before ua. we abonld ha' 
expected more instead of less, but several other Instanc 
will be found in Schmidt (Shaks. Lex. 1420)of " (his colon 



ACT L Scene 4. 



NOTES TO CYMBELINE. 



ACT I. Soene 4. 



able variation of the doable negative" ag Ingleby well 
tennt it Tlnu, Merchant of Venice, iv. L 161-168. " let 
his lack of years be no impediment to let him lack a 
rererend estimation;" and Macbeth, iii. 6. 8-10: 

\Vho cannot want the thout;lit. how utonstrous 
It was for Malcolm and for Donalbain 
To kill their (gracious father t 

"Such irregularities/' adds Schmidt, "may be easily ac- 
connted for. The idea of negation was so strong in the 
poet's mind that he expressed it in more than one place, 
amnindf ul of his canon that ' your four negatives make 
joar two afHrmatives' [Twelfth Night, v. 1. 24, 25]. Had 
he taken the pains of revising and preparing his plays for 
the press, he would perhaps have corrected all the quoted 
psasages. But he did not write them to be read and dwelt 
on by the eye, but to be heard by a sympathetic audience. 
And much that would blemish the language of a logician, 
msjr well become a dramatic poet or an orator." 

40. Lines 29: gentlemen of your KNOWING.— Gentlemen 
of your experience in society; so iL 3. 102, 103: 

one of your i^at knowing 
Should leani, betni; taught, forbearance. 

41 Lines 39, 40: vohich I tcill be ever to pay, and yet pay 
KiZL-Malone quotes All's WeU. iii. 7. lU, 17: 

Which I will over-pay and i>ay aifain. 
When I have found it ; 

and Sonnet xxx. 12: 

Which I new pay as if not paid before. 

42. Lines 47, 48: TO 00 even WITH what 1 heard.— For 
to go even urith, i.e. accord, agree with, compare Twelfth 
Xight, V. 1. 24G: 

Were you a woman, as the rest i'oes even. 

Posthumus means, that so far from acquiescing in the 
(^linions of others, he rather set himself to oppose them, 
snd was therefore easily drawn into a quarrel,— one, how- 
ever, which even yet, on maturer consideration, he does 
not consider so trivial as his friend appears to. 

43. Line 50: if I offend NOT to say it ie meiuUd.—Ho 
Rowe. F. 1 omits not 

44. Lines 64, 65: wise, chcute, CONSTANT, QUALIFIED.— 
For qualijied ( = endowed with qualities) Ingleby quotes 
The Taming of the Shrew, iv. 5. 66, 07, speaking of Bianca: 

Beside, so qualified as may beseem 
The spouse of any noble gentleman ; 

snd Davenant, Unfortunate Lovers, i. 1: 

But why, Rampino, since thi» lady is 
So rarely qualified. 

And what lachimo afterwards calls Imogen (v. 5. 166, 167): 

A shop of all the qualities that man 
Loveft woman for : 

C^iell removed the comma between constant and qualified, 
snd in his notes (voL i. p. 104) he hyphens the words con- 
ttant-qualified, a reading which has been adopted by mMt 
nodem editors, but to the detriment of the passage. 

46. Lines 73, 74 : / would abate her nothing, though 1 
PKon»8 myself her adorer, not her FRIEND.— Even sup- 
posing 1 profess myself merely her worshipper, and not 
her lover; " one who looks up to her," says Ingleby (wlio 
voald read pn^em'Su " as to a superior being, with the 



worship of a votary, rather than with the Jealous affection 
of a lover. He means, in fact, to assert for her a real 
objective excellence, apart from her private relation to 
him." The word friend was used in a special sense to 
mean lover, paramour, sweetheart. 

46. Lines 75-77: As fair and as good— a kind qf hand- 
in-hand comparison — had been something too fair and too 
good for any lady inBRiTAiN.— " Asfairandasgood," i.e. 
as any lady in Italy: the assertion is nominative to "had 
been something," &c ; "hand-in-hand comparison" = a 
comparison where the two things compared go hand in 
hand, or keep pace. lachimo denies that any lady in 
Britain could be as fair and as good as any of his country- 
women (Ingleby). Britain is Johnson's correction for 
BrUanie of the Folio. 

47. Lines 77-82: // she tcent before others I have seen, 
as that diamond of yours outlustres many I have beheld, 
1 COULD NOT BUT BELIEVE she excelML many : but I have 
not seen the most precious diaiiwnd that is, nor you the 
lady. — The Folio has / could luA believe: Warburton 
omitted ^lot, and read I could believe; Malone inserted the 
but before believe, and has been followed by Dyce and most 
modem editors; for it seems' impossible to extract satis- 
factory sense without some change. Malone paraphrases 
his reading of the passage as follows: " If she surpassed 
other women that I have seen in the same proportion that 
your diamond out-lustres many diamonds that I have be- 
held, I could not but acknowledge that she excelled many 
women; but I have not seen the most valuable diamond 
in the world, nor you the most beautiful woman; and 
therefore J cannot admit she excels all. " 

48. Lines 90, 91 : if there were wealth enough for the pur- 
chase. — So Howe. F. 1 has " or if there were wealth enough 
for the purchases." 

49. Lines 104, 105: to convince the honour qf my mis- 
tress.— For this use of convince (= overcome) compare 

Macbeth, i. 7. 63, 64: 

his two chamberlains 

Will I with wine and wassail so convince. 

50. Line 122: herein too.— So F. 3; F. 1 and F. 2 hare 
heerein to. 

61. Lines 134. 135: the APPROBATION qf what I have 
spoke. —For this use of approbation (= proof) compare 
Henry V. i. 2 18-20: 

For God.doth know how many now in health 
Shall drop their blood in approhation 
Of what your reverence shall incite us to. 

62. Line 146: You are afraid, and therein the wiser.— 
Afraid was first printed by Theobald on the suggestion of 
Warburton, and has been adopted by most editors. The 
Folio has a Friend, but the attempts which have been 
made to explain the passage without alteration are un- 
satisfactory. Ingleby conjectured her friend " = her lover, 
and therefore know her well, and how much you can wager 
on her honour. " The conjecture afraid, which gives much 
the same sense, has the advantage of being the less violent 
change of the two. 

63. Line 160: // 1 bring you no sufficient testimony, &c. 
—The Co wden Clarkes well observe, ' * This is in accordance 

151 



ACT I. Scene 4. 



NOTES TO CYMBELINE. 



ACT L 



with lAchimo's dedgnlng manner. He tffecto to state the 
terms of the wager on both sides; bat he, in fact, proposes 
them so that they shall suggest, either way, Fosthunos's 
winning.'* 

M. Lines 166, 167 : provided I hate your commendation 
for my more free «iaer<a«nm«nt— Provided I am famished 
with sach an introduction from yon as will ensare me a 
more hoq>itable reception than I should otherwise be en- 
titled to expect 

65i lines 179. 180: Uet the bargain ehouid eatth eoid and 
•earoe.— Lest it should fall through, if we did not strike 
while the iron is hot; we will therefore lose no time in 
acting upon it 

ACrr I. Scene 5. 

fie. Lines 17, 18: 

That I did amplify my judgment in 
Other CONCLUSIONS. 

Compare Antony and Cleopatra, r. 2. 367-869: 

her physician teUs me 
She hath purau*d conciusioHS Infinite 
Of easy ways to die. 

ST. Lines 66. 67: 

A^id everyday that eotnet comet to decay 
A day's work in him. 

I suppose this to mean, every day that comes now to him 
only serves to destroy the work a past day had done for 
him in giving him health and prosperity; in other words, 
he is now daily going downhill as fast ss he formerly went 
uphill. 

6a Line 08: Thitik what a cbauce thou chakqest on.— 
Think with what a fair prospect of mending your fortunes 
you now change your present service (SteevensX Bowe 
printed, " what a chance thou chancett on ;** and Theobald, 
"what a ehattge thou ehaneeet on." 

fie. Line 80: Of LEIGERS for her «t0««(.— Spelt in the 
Folio Leidgert. In the only other plsce in which the 
word is used by Shakespeare it is spelt leiger; Measure 
for Measure, iii. 1. 67-60: 

Tuird Angelo, havini^ ailaira to heaven. 
Intends you for his swift ambassador. 
Where you shall be an everlasting leigtr. 

Leiger is connected with the verb to 2ie, and a leiger 
ambassador was one who lay or remained some time at a 
foreign court Compare the word ledger, a book that lies 
always ready. Ingleby rightly explains, "shall deprive 
her of Pisanio, the only resident at court who safeguards 
the interests of her absent husband." 

ACT I. Scene 6. 

60. Lines 1-9: A father cruel, ^.—Ingleby thinks these 
lines are either rough notes for a speech, or the remains 
of a speech cut down for representation. "The abrupt 
transition," he remarks, "to the splendour of lachimo's 
speeches is exceedingly striking," and he finds the same 
peculiarity in several other speeches in the play— a mark 
of unfinished work which he thinks may help to explain 
the play's position at the end of the Folio; the editors 
having admitted it as an afterthought The reader must 
Judge for himself; but in the present case at any rate the i 

152 



lines as they stand seem to me quite appropiteti 
meditative mood of Imogen before she Is interm 
the arrival of a stranger. 

ACT I. Scene 6. 

61. Lines 4, 6: 

My eiipreme croum of gfriefi and thoee repeat 
Vexatione qf it! 

"My supreme crown of grief ** = the greatest and a 
sorrow of that grief, whose lesser tributaries are tl 
Just specified: cruelty, falsity, and tolly ^** thoee n 
vexations of it" (Ingleby). 

6S. Lines 6-9: 

but moet mieerable 

Is the DKSIBB that's glorious: bUss'd be th* 

How mean eoe'er, that ?iave their honest wUi 

Which secuons comfort. 

The heart which is capable of the most exalted d( 
susceptible of the keenest grief at disappointmi 
happier are those worthy souls, however meai 
station, whose ambition is limited, and who in the: 
tion of their wishes find that satisfaction which 
happy life its zest,— "which seasons comfort.** I 
desires; F. 2 desire. For (7<oruni«=: desirous of glor, 
pare Pericles, Prologue, 9: 

The purchase [|ir*in] is to make men gi^ritus. 

63. Line 17: She is alone th* Arabian bisi 
Phoenix. So Antony and Cleopatra, iii. 2. 12: 

O Antony! O thou Arabian birdl 

64. Lines 22-26: " He is one of the noblest note, A 
kindnesses 1 am most infinitely tied. Reflect up( 
accordingly, as you value your trfst — Lkonai 
Imogen apparently reads only an extract from the I 
probably the very second sentence, says Malone— a 
signature: for trttst (that which she has accepted 
marriage-bond), Ingleby refers to lines 166-160 bel< 

O happy Leonatusl I may say: 

The credit that thy lady hath of thee 

Deserves thy trust; and thy most perfect f^oodnets 

Her assur'd credit. 

Monck Mason, assuming it to be the conclusicm 
letter which is read, proposed your truest Leonatoa, 
was adopted by Steevens, Dyce, and others. RefUei 
properly meaning shine upon. Is here nearly = look 
The word is not used by Shakespeare in its modem 
of cogitate. 

66. Line 28: and TAKIS it thani;fuUy.—So Pope. 
Folios have take. 

66. Lines 32-86: 

Hath naturegiven them eyes 

To see this vaulted arch, and the rich crop 

Oj sea aiui land, which can distinguiA 'twiaet 

The fiery orbs above, and the TWINN'D ifTONIS 

Upon the number'd beach f 

Some of the eighteenth-century commentators hav< 
gled strangely over this passage; even Johnson could 
nothing of twinn'd stones, afterwards correctly ezpl 
by Capell and Steevens. Ingleby's note Is a good 
"lliose 'spectacles so precious,' says the ItaUaa, e 



ACT I. Soene 6. 



NOTES TO CYMBELINE. 



ACT I. Soene 6. 



two very different things: can see tiie whole hemisphere 
of the heavens above and the vast compass of the sea and 
land beneath; and also can distinguish between any two 
objects, either in the heavens (as stars), or on the shore 
(as stones) which are to the casual observer so much alike 
that they might be taken for twins." On the class of 
adjectives to which numbered, =Tich in numbers, belongs, 
•ee 'Schmidt, p 1417. Theobald printed wmumber'd, which 
Dr. Brinsley Nicholson prefers as harraonixing with the 
references to the innumerable sands of the sea in Scrip- 
ture, and particularly with Jeremiah xxxiii. 22, where 
lachimo's similes occur exactly : " As the host of heaven 
cannot be numbered, neither the sand of the sea mea- 
lured.* 

S7. Line 37: SPECTACLES «o|)rcck)tnr. — Compare II. Henry 
VI. ill. 2. 110-113: 

And even with this I lost fair England's view, 
And bid mine eyes be |>ackint; with my heart, 
And call'd them blind and dusky spectacles. 
For losing ken of Albion's wished coast. 

68. Lines U-46: 

SlutUry, to such neat excellence oppos'd. 
Should make desire vomit eviptinesSf 
Xot HO aUur'd to feed. 

Desire, however sharp set, would not be allured to feed 
on sluttery when presented as a rival to such neat excel- 
lence, it would rather be seized with a fit of nausea, and 
Tomit without having fed. This is substantially Johnson's 
eiplanation; he adds characteristically in a subsequent 
Dote that to vomit emptiness is "to feel the convulsions 
of eructation without plenitude." Malone remarks that 
DO one who has ever been sick at sea can be at a loss to 
nnderstand the expression. 

89. Line 47: What is the matter, TROW?— To trow, formed 
from true, is to believe, suppose. Schmidt says, / trow, 
or trow alone, " is added to questions, expressive of con- 
temptuous or Indignant surpilse (nearly = I wonder^" 

70. Unes 50, 51: 

What, dear sir, 

ThtisRAVsyouf 

The verb to rap = to snatch, carry away,— a word of Scan- 
dioavian origin, and distinct from rap = to knock,— is not 
Died elsewhere by Shakespeare, except in the participle, 
vhich was popularly connected with the Latin raptus, 
tod always spelt rapt; so Macbeth, i. 3. 142: " Look, how 
our partner 's rapt." 

71. Lines 53, 54: 

Ae 

Is strange and peevish. 

"He is a foreigner and easily fretted," says Johnson; but 
pettish in Shakespeare's time usually meant childish, silly, 
ttd it is in this sense that he generally uses it; Steevens 
quotes Lilly's Endymion (1501): "Never was any so pee- 
n«& to imagine the moon either capable of affection or 
*hape of a mistress." It may, however, mean here "chil- 
(Ushly wayward, capricious," as in Merchant of Venice, 
Ll. 8S-46: 

Why should a man 

Sleep when he wakes? and creep into the Jaundice 
By beiac peevish? 



72. Line 79: In himself, t is much.— It he merely re- 
garded his own character, without any consideration of 
his wife, his conduct would be unpardonable (MaloneX 
(3apell has a note to the same effect 

73. Lines 96, 99: 

discover to me 

What both yoti SPUE and STOP. 
Compare Winter's Tale, il 1. 185-187: 

now, from the oracle 
They will bring all; whose spiritual counsel had. 
Shall s/o/ or j-/Mr me. 

74. Line 104: FixiNQ t'e only here.— So F. 2 ; F. 1 has 
Fiering. 

75. Line 105: SLAVER WITH lips as common as the stairs. 
—Slaver, to be smeared with spittle (t.e. to bear the traces 
of disgustful kisses); '*with lips '=&y lips (Schmidt). 

7& Lines 106-108: 

join gripes with hands 
Made hard with hourly falsehood— falsehood, as 
With labour. 

Hourly falsehood and inconstancy has made these hands 
incapable of the pressure of true affection, has in fact 
made them as hard as those of the honest labourer are 
made by his work: the metaphor is a very forcible one. 

77. Lines 108-110: 

then BY-PEEPING in an eye 
Base and illustrious as the smoky light 
That 'sfed with stinking tallow. 

The Folio has by peeping; the hyphen was inserted by 
Knight. I ngleby explains the expression as "=peepiug, 
apart from or between the more serious occupations of his 
debauch," and compares Webster, Cure for a Cuckold, 
iii. 2. (end): 

Some win by play, and others by by-hettitt^. 

So in I Henry IV. iii. 3. 84 we have by-drinkings, i.e. 
drinkings between meals. Rolfe less probably inter- 
prets, "giving sidelong glances." Rowe printed, "then 
glad my self by peeping" without the shadow of authority. 
Johnson conjectured, lye peeping. 

After much hesitation I have thought it better to retain 
the Folio reading illustrious, in the sense of "wanting 
lustre." Schmidt compares such forms as facinerious 
(All '8 Well. ii. 3. 35). robustious (Hamlet, iii. 2. lOX and 
dexteriously (Twelfth Night, i. 5. 66). Steevens quotes 
lack-lustre eye from As You Like It, ii. 7. 21. Rowe 
printed nnlustrous, followed by most editors; Ingleby, 
ill-lustrous. 

7a Lines 113-115: 

Not I, 

Inclin'd to this intelligence, proiuntncc 

The beggary qf his change, 

I do not bring this news, because I felt any pleasure in 
being the bearer of it 

79. Line 122: that self exhibition. —Only used by 

Shakespeare in this sense, "allowance, pension;" so Two 

Gentlemen of Verona, i. 3. 68, 09: 

What maintenance he from his frieads receives 
Like exhibition thou shalt have from me. 

153 



ACT I. Scene 6. 



NOTES TO CYMBELINE. 



ACT II. Scene 2. 



80. Lines 12S-126: diteat'd venture* . . . boU'd ituff. 
—Those who have gone through the ordeal of "The tnb- 
fait and the diet," Timon of Athena, iv. 8. 8&-87 (InglebyX 

81. lines 127, 128: 

atid you 

RECOlL/rom your great ttock. 

Compare Macbeth, Iv. 8. 19, 20: 

A good and virtuous nature may recoii 
In an imperial charge; 

(i.e. degenerate). 

88. Line 133: like Diana's PRISST, BETWIXT, Ac; ie. 
Diana's priestess; so Pericles, v. 1. 248: 

There, when my maiden friests are met tof^ether. 

Hanmer printed prieetew 'twixt. 

88. Line 134: Whilee he ie oaultitig variable RAMPS. ^ 
Slialcespeare does not use the word ramp as a subst. else- 
where. The Terb he uses in the participial form ramp- 
ing =nmptuit, leaping up; hence it is most natural to 
give the word the sense of leape here— a sense in which it 
is used by Milton (referred to by Nares), Samson Agonlstes, 
188, 139: 

The t>old Ascalonite 
Fled from his lion ram/. 

Some commentators, however, explain it as meaning a 
harlot, a use of which Nares quotes three instances. 

84. Line 147: SOLICIT'ST here.— The Folio has Solicites. 
Abbott (8h. Gr. « 340) says: " In verbs ending with -t, -test 
final in the second person sing, often becomes -ts for 
euphony." So in iU. 3. 103 below the Folio has rt/te for 
u/t'sL 

86. Line 167: That he enchants societies into him.— Re 
enchants not only persons, but societies, so that they 
come within his magic circle (Ingleby). 

86. Line 160: He sits 'inongst men like a DSSCKNDSD 
(lod.— So F. 2; F. 1 has defended. Malone compares Ham- 
let, iii. 4. 58. 50: 

A station like the herald Mercuiy 
New'lighted on a heaven-kissing hill. 

87. lines 182-184: 

for it concerns 

Your lord; my self, and other noble friends, 
Are partners in the busincM. 

So Bowe; F. 1 has a colon at concerns; Dyce has a comma 
at lord, and explains, " for it concerns your lord, myself, 
and other noble friends, who are partners in the business." 

ACJT II. SCKNK 1. 

88. Lines 2, 3: when I KISS'D THE JACK upon an up- 
cast, to be hit away .'—The jack, formerly also called the 
mistress, is the small bowl at which the players aim; when 
a player's bowl lies so close to the jack as to touch it, it is 
said to " kiss the jack. " Cloten had managed to do this, 
but had been hit away by the bowl of another player. An 
up-cast is a technical term of the game for the delivery 
of the bowl. Steevens quotes Rowley, A Woman never 
Vexed. 1632 (HazUtt's Dodsley. xii. 166): " This city bowler 
ha« kissed the mistress at first cast" 

154 



88. Lines 14, 16: nor CROP the ears of CA«m. ^Punning 
on Cloten's use of eurtaiL 

90. Lhie 16: / OIYE.— So F.2; F. 1 has JpoiM. 

91. Line 18: To have SMELT like a /oo^^ Another pun, 
on Cloten's my rank; Steevens quotes another instance of 
the same from As You Like It, L 2. 118, 114: 

Touch. Nay, If I keep not vayyank, — 
Ras. Thou losest thy old Jinr/^ 

92. lines 26, 26: You are eoek and capon too; and you 
crow, cock, with your comb on.— More wit Capell sug- 
gests a play on capon, i.e. cap on, meaning with your 
coxcomb (fool's cap), as the words with your comb on cer- 
tainly imply. It would not do, I suppose, to suggest yet 
another little joke,— your comb on and your "come on ! " 
Ingleby says Cloten is called a capon merely for his fat- 
ness. 

93. Line 36: court tonightt — '* Court to night" F.2; 
F. 1 "court night" 

ACT IL Scene 2. 

91 — The Folio has here the curious stage-direction: 
" Enter Imogen, in her Bed, and a Lady." The bed was 
pushed on to the stage from behind the curtains at the 
back. 

95.— The commentators have been struck with the fre- 
quency with which in this scene we are reminded of cer- 
tain passages in the second act of Macbeth. Ingleby gives 
the following list of them:- 
Line 2: Macbeth, ii. L 1-3: 

BaH. How goes the night, boy? 

FU. The moon ii down; I have not heard the dock. 

Ban. And she goes down at twelve. 

Lines 7-10: Macbeth, U. 1. 6-0: 

A heavy summons lies like lead upon me, 

Merciful powers. 
Restrain in me the cursed thoughts that nature 
Gives way to in repose ! 

Lines 11, 12: Macbeth, U. 2. 38: "sore labour's bath." 

lines 12-14: ^lacbeth. ii. 1. 55, 56: 

With Tarquin's ravishing strides, towards his design 
Moves like a ghost. 

Lines 22. 23: Macbeth, a 8. 118: 

His silver skin lac'd with his gotden blood. 

Line 31: Macbeth. U. 3. 81: 

Shake off this downy sleep, death's counterfeit. 

The resemblances are striking, but they do not warrant 
any further inference than that for some reason or other, 
such as a recent perusal or performance of the play, the 
second act of Macbeth was fr^h in the author's mind at 
the time the present scene was written. 

96. Lines 12, 13: 

Our Tarquin thus 

Did sqftly press the rushes. 

Shakespeare has transferred to Rome the custom of strew- 
ing floors with rushes, which prevailed in his own day. 
Steevens quotes the same anachronism from The Rape of 
Lucrece, 818: 

He takes It [a glovej from the rwkes where it lies. 



ACT IL SoMM 2. 



NOTES TO CYMBELINE. 



ACT II. Boene 8. 



97. Line 18: How dearly they DO 'T I— Do 7 is a common 
expreMion of the day, and may mean anything; i.e. do 
what they are doing, which in this case ia ki*9 taeh other, 
IS cloeed Upa always do (Ingleby). 

9a Unes 22. 23: 

Under them windows, uhUe and azure, lae'd 
With blue qf heaven's own tinet. 
Shakespeare sereral times applies the term windowi to 
eyelids; thus. Venus and Adonis, 482: 

Her two blue windows faintly she ui^heaveth. 

Fur the colour Steeveus aptly quotes Winter's Tale, iv. 4. 
120, 121: 

violets dim, 
But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes. 

Imogen's pale blue eyelids are laced with veins of darker 
Uae. 

99. Lines 48, 49: 

Stcift, ewift, you DRAGONS OF THE NIGHT, that dawiUng 

May BABE THE RAVEN'S EYE ! 

¥. I has beare; bare was first conjectured by Theobald, 
u an improvement on Pope's ope. Theobald, however, 
retained bear in his text, and defends it as follows: " For 
the Dawn to bear the Haveii'e Eye. is, as Mr. Warburton 
iogeniously observ'd to me, a ver>- grand and poetical 
£q>re8sion. It is a Metaphor borruw'd from Heraldry; 
SI, again, in Much Ado about Xothing. 

Sc that */Ju httr* li'tt eHcin:k to ktef kimst(/warm, Ut him bear 
«f/*r a dijfertHCc i>*tuttn hi*Hsei/ and his Horsf. 

That the Dawn should bear the Haven's £ye, means, that 
It should rise and shew That Colour. Now the Raven's 
£]re is remarkably grey: and grey-ey'd, 't is kni>wu, is the 
I^ithet universally Join'd to the Morning ' (ed. 17SS, 
Tol. vi. p. 371). Hanmer printed bare its raven-eye; 
•^teevens, bare the racen's eye, as in the text. But why 
the raven's eye/ Heath replies that the raven is a very 
early bird; this I believe is correct, but the raven is now 
a ram avis in England, and its habits are not so familiar 
ai they must have been in Shakespeare's time. For dra- 
gons of the night see Midsummer Night's Dream, note 206. 

100. Line 51: One, two three,— Time, f ime .'— Malone 
complains of the inconsistency of tlie notes of time in this 
Kene: "Just before Imogen went to sleep, she asked her 
attendant what hour it was, and was informed by her it 
vas almost midnight, lachimo, immediately after she 
hu fallen asleep, cornea from the trunk, and the present 
loliloquy cannot have consumed more than a few minutea " 
Bat as Mr. P. A. Daniel observes: "Stage time is not 
laeasured by the glass, and to an exi>ectant audience the 
awful pause between the falling asleep of Imogen and 
the stealthy opening of trunk from which lachimo issues 
would be note and mark of time enough " (New Shakspere 
'kK^iety's Transactions, \877-79, p. 242, note). Time, time! 
AS Ingleby remarks, means that "four" has struck, the 
boor at which Helen was to call her mistress. 

ACT II. Scene 3. 

101. Lines 18, 14: they say it will PENETRATE. —It may 
be noticed that this word, and its congeners penetiable 
snd peti^rative, are always used figuratively in Shake- 
speare, ie. with reference to the feelings. 



102. Line 21: Hark, hark! the LARK at UEAYSM'8 GATE 
t»n^«.— Steevens quotes Sonnet xxix. 11, 12: 

Like to the larh at brealc of day aLtiting 

From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gatt : 

and Seed, Lilly, Alexander, Campaape, and Diogenes 

(printed 1584): 

who \s 't now we hear ; 

None but the larh so shrill and clear ; 

Now at heaven's gates she claps her wings. 

The morn not waking till she sings. 

Hark. hark. 

103. Lines 23, 24: 

His steeds to water at those springs 
On chalied /lowers that LIES. 

It is hardly necessary to explain that this refers to the 
sun's drinking up the early dew on the flowers. Lies for 
lie may be an instance of the singular verb following a 
relative, although the antecedent is in the plural: see 
Abbott, Sh. Or. f 247; but compare S 383, where the theory 
of a third «person plural in -s is advocated, "which may 
well have arisen from the northern E.E. third person 
plural in -s." Whatever the truth may be, there is no 
doubt that this apparent solecism is very common in the 
Folio; thus in iU. 3. 27-29 we find: 

we poore vnfledg'd 
Haue neuer wing'd from view o' th' ne»t; nor Jbu^rwes not 
What Ayre '^ from home; 

and in iv. 2. 86: 

Th' eniperiou.s Seas breeds Monsters. 

Steevens quotes Venus and Adonis, 1127, 1128: 

She lifts the coffer •Uds that close his eyei. 
Where, lo. two lamps, burnt out. in darkness lus: 

here, as in the text, lies is required by the rhyme. 

lOi. Lines 26, 2ti: 

A\u.i winking Mary-BUDs begin 
To tipe their golden eyes 

Mr. Ellacombe (Plant-Lore and Garden-craft of Shake- 
speare, p. 120) identifies the Mary-bud with the garden 
marigold (jCdlenduUi ojficinalis): "The two properties of 
the Marigold— that it was always in fiower, and that it 
turned its fiowers to the sun and followed his guidance 
in their opening and shutting— made it a very favourite 
fiower with tlie poets and emblem writera" 

106l line 27: With every thing that pretty is.— Hanmer 
unnecessarily altered is to bin for the sake of a rhyme. 

106. Lines 32, 33: if it do not, it is a VICE in her ears.^ 
So Rowe; the Folio has voyce. Ingleby notes that the 
same misprint occurs in Merchant of Venice, ill. 2. 81, 
where F. 1 has: 

There i% no voice so simple, but assumes 
Some luarke of vertue on his outward parts. 

107. Line 34: calves' -guts.^ Altered by many editors to 
eat's-guts or cat-guts; but see A. Smythe Palmer, Folk- 
Etymology, p. 64: "Catout, the technical name for the 
material of which the strings of the guitar, harp, Ac. are 
made. It is really manufactured from lAeep-gnt (ride 
Chappell's History of Music, vol. L p. 28X" 

106. line 35: amend.— So F. 2; F. 1 has amed, 

109. Line 44: / have assaitd her tvith MUSICS.- Altered 

165 



ACT II. Scene 8. 



NOTES TO CYMBELINE. 



ACT II. Soent 4. 



by most editors to mutie; but compare All 'a Well, ill. 7. 

39.40: 

Eveiy night he comes 

With musics of all sorts. 

110. Line 52: To orderly SOUOITS.— So F. 2; F. 1 hat 
golicity. Sidney Walker quotes Shirley, Arcadia, t. IL 
(Giffurd and Dyce, vol. vi. p. 245): 

tir'd with his stfiieits 
I had no time to perfect my desires 
With his fair daiii^hter. 

HI. Line 64: hU goodnem foretpent on xts; i.e. his kind- 
ness having been previously bestowed on us. 

112. Lines 73-75: 

yea, and makes 

IHana's rangers false themselves, yield up 
Their deer to the STAND o' THE STEALER. 

£ditors have followed Steevens' suggestion tJmi false is a 
verb here: see Comedy of Errors, ii. 2. 05, and Romeo and 
Juliet, iii. 1. 182, with Mr. Marshall's notes; but it may 
very well be an adjective as usual: Diana's nymphs are 
false, if they are untrue to their mistress and her prin- 
ciplea The stand o' the stealer is the position the poacher 
takes up to shoot the deer as they pass. 

113. Lines 102, 103: 

one of your great knowing 
Should learn, being taught, forbearance. 

A man of your experience should have the sense to learn 
forbearance when he is taught it. 

114. Line 106: 

Imo. Fo(ds CURE nut mad folks. 
CIo. Do you call me fool f 

The Folio has ' ' Fooles are not mad Folkes. " Theobald, to 
whom the correction is due, remarks, "But does she 
really call him Fool? The soundest Logician would be 
puzzled to nnd it out, as the [Folio] Text stands. The 
reasoning is perplex'd in a slight Corruption; and we must 
restore, as Mr. Warburton likewise saw. Fools cure not 
mad folks." 

115. Lines 110. Ill: 

You put me to forget a lady's manners, 
By being so verbal. 

You make me so far forget a lady's manners as to speak 
out in plain words what is generally left to be understood 
by implication. 

116. Lines 114, 116: 

And me so near the lack of charity,— 
To acctue myself,— I hate you. 

Imogen is accusing herself in telling Cloten that she is 
so uncharitable as to hate him (InglebyX 

117. Line 126: atul must not F0lL.^The Folio has 'foyle 
with the point inverted: Ingleby thinks that this may be 
an error for 'fyle or 'file = defile. Bat foil in the sense of 
d^eat is common, and this may be a figurative use: com- 
pare Pass. Pilgrim, 09: 

She framed the love, and yet thefaiTd the framing ; 

and in Othello, i. 3. 270, where the Folio has seel the Quar- 
tos have foyles. Hanmer, followed by most, if not all, 
subsequent editors, printed soil. So in Antony and Cleo- 

166 



patra, i. 4. 24 the foyles (sblenUahea) of the Folio has 
been changed into soils. 

118. Lines 130. 131: 

Wert thou the son qf Jupiter, and no more 
But what thou art besides; 

i.e. and at the same time no better man than you are at 
present 

119. Lines 133-135: 

if't were mads 

Comparative for your virtues, to be styVd 
The under-hangman of his kingdom. 

If the post of under-hangman was considered an adequate 
recognition of your virtues in comparison with his. 

180. Lines 13S-141: 

His meanest garment. 
That ever hath but clipp'd hie body, is dearer 
In my respect than all the hairs above thee. 
Were they all made such men. 

That seems to mean, that she respects her husband's 
meanest garment more than the lives of a thousand 
Clotens (Ingleby). 

121. Line 142: "Hie garment !"— So F. 2; F. 1 has 
Garments. 

122. Line 146: too casxMlly.—"Bj an accident," says 
Schmidt, "to which it ought not to have been exposed, 
and which is a reproach to me." 

123. Line 149: Of any Kino's.— So Rowe, ed. 2; F. 1 has 
Kings. 

124. Lines 158, 159: 

* 

She 's my good lady; and will conceive, I hope. 
But the worst of me. 

That is, as Ingleby explains, how deeply I detest the 
thought of my union with you. 

ACT II. Scene 4. 

126. Line 0: in these fear'd hopes.— So F. 2; F. 1 hns 

hope. For the use of the adjective compare Merchant of 

Venice, Ui. 2. 07, 08: 

Thus ornament is but the gm'ltd shore 
To a most dangerous sea ; 

t.^. full of guile; and Schmidt, Shaks. Lex. p. 1417. Dyce, 
following a conjecture of Tyrwhitt's in his copy ctf the 
second Folio now in the British Museum, printed "these 
sear'd hopes;" and so the Globe. Knight made the same 
alteration. 

126. Line 18: The LEOIOMS now in GoUia.— Theobald's 
correction of the Legion of the Folio. 

127. lines 23. 24: 

their discipline 

Sow xniOLED tcith their courages. 
So F. 2; F. 1 has *'wing.led with." 

12a Line 37: PHI.— So CapelL The Folio gives tliis 
speech to Posthumus. 

129. Lines 41, 42: 

// / hatb lost it, 

I should have lost the worth qf it in goUL 



ACT IL Soeoe 4. 



NOTES TO CYMBELINE. 



ACT III. Scene 1. 



To make the sentence regular Dyoe printed " If I had loat 
it," but see Abbott, f 371 : " The consequent does not always 
Muwer to the antecedent in mood or tense." lachimo 
means If I have lost U (as you seem to be so certain I 
haveX 

laa Lines 5t^l: 

if not, the foul ojnnioH 

You had qf her pure honour gains or loses 

Your sieord or mine, or masterless LEAVES both 

To who shall find them. 

This is another of those passages which defy logical 
analysis, although the general sense is clear enough. 
Pusthumus of course means that in the duel A Voutranee, 
bjr which lachinio's foul opinion of his lady must be 
expiated, one of them will be killed or both: one of tliem 
in fact will gain the sword of tlie other, or leave both 
swords on the Held, for the first comer to pick up. Leaves 
ii Rowe's correction for leaue of F. 1. 

131. Lines 82. 83: 

n^ver nav I figures 

So likely to report thenuelrcs ; 

i.e. tu speak, and tell us who they were. Compare Timon 
of Athens, L 1. 30-34. where a portrait is thus com> 
uieuUed: 

Admirable: how this f;racc 
SfMts hit tm-n standtui^! ... to the duiubne&k of the gesture 
l>iie ml|(ht interpreL 

1S2. Unes 83-85: 

the cutter 

Was as another Nature, dumb; outwent her, 

Motion and breath left out. 

The nctUptur was as nature, but as nature dumb; he gave 
everything that nature gives, but breath and motion. In 
breath is included speech (Johnson) 

133. Lines 107, lOd: 

It is a basilisk unto mine eye, 
Kills me to look on 't 

^ II. Henry VI. note 185. For the basilisk or cockatrice 
the reader may perhaps be gratified by the following 
<tQotsUon from Chaml>ers'sEncyclopHMiia(ed. 1888, vol. L 
P- Tib), where an engraving of the creature may be seen. 
"The fabulous Basilisk . . . was by ancient and 
■iiedieral anthurs believed to be hatched by a serpent 
from sn egg laid by a cock. It inhabited the deserts of 
Africs, and, indeed, could inhabit only a desert, for its 
^th burned up all vegetation; the flesh fell from the 
^ih!S of any animal with which it came in contact, and 
'U rery look was fatal to life; but brave men could venture 
into cautious contest with it by the use of a mirror, which 
^fleeted back its deadly glance upon itself. Trevisa calls 
it the 'king of serpents that with smile and sight slayeth 
^**uU. ' It is described as about a foot long, with a black 
>ii<i yellow skin, and fiery red eyes; and its blood was 
^opposed to be of great value to magiciana The weasel 
^l<me could contend with it, curing and reinvigoratiug 
itaelf during the combat by eating rue." 

IH Line 110: Wtio ktunes if one of her vHnnen.—^ F. 
*• F. 1 omits c/. 

136l Lla0lS6: Worthy the pressit^.-^^Jo^t, F. Ihas 



**her pressing." which Capell defends as "a very delicate 
compliment." 

ACT II. Scene 6. 

196. Line 13: As chaste as uiufunnd »iioir.— New-fallen 
snow has a purity of whiteness which it soon loses after 
exposure to the sun's rays (Ingleby). 

137. Line 16: LikeafuU-aconi'dboar^aQ^KHK^one.— 
German in F. 1 and F. 2 is spelt / armen; in F. 3 and F. 4 
Jarmen. The forests of Germany were, and in some parts 
still are, famous for their wild boars. 

138. Line 25: change of I'RIDES. —Vor pride, in the sense 
of extravagance, compare Lucrece, 802-864: 

Su then he liath it [goklj when he c.innot use it. 
And leaves it to be uuister'd by hi» yount; : 
Who in their /ru^ do presently abuse it. 

Sumptuous dresses, to which Ingleby tldnks the prides 
refer, would of course be included in their extravagances. 

139. Line 27: All faults that may be ikn/i'd.— This is the 
reading of F. 2; F. 1 has "All FaulU that name." Dyce 
conjectured (but did not print in his text) "All faults that 
have a name; ' and Sidney Walker, "All faults that man 
can (or %nay) name." 

140. Line 32: / "II WRITE against theai.—l will take up 
my testimony against them, protest against them {not, 
write a treatise against them!); in this sense trrite=sub- 
scril>e. as in Merry Wives, i. 1. 1): "who writes himself 
armigero." Compare ^luch Ad(», iv. 1. 57: 

Out on thy seeming; ! I will rvrttf against it. 

ACT III. ScKXK 1. 

141. Line 5: Cassibelan. thine UNCLE.— Cassibelan was 
the youngest brother of Lud. the grandfather of Cymbe- 
line, and was therefore Cymbeline's grtat-uncU: see note 
on Dramatis Persona*. 

142. Lines 6. 7: 

Famous in Ccesar's praises, ho whit less 
Than in his feats deserving it 

Not at all less famous in the praises Ca»ar bestowed on 
him than his exploits deserved. 

143. Line 14 : For tceariiuj our own noseu. — Ingleby 
thinks the allusion is to contrast between the British and 
Roman noses, the snub and the crook,— a subject to which 
Cloten returns (line 37): "other of them may have crook'd 
noses. " 

141 Line Is: The natural bravery of your isle.— Ac- 
cording to Schmidt bravery here means " state of defiance," 
asinOtheUo, i. 1. lUO. 101: 

Upon malicious brat-try, dost thou coiue 
To start uiy quiet. 

If this is not the meaning, it must be equivalent to 
"splendour," "strength." as in Sonnet xxxiv. the sun is 
spoken of as hiding his bravery In smoke. 

146. Line 20: With ROCKS uitscalable. —fio Hanmer; 
F. 1 has Oakes. 

146. Line 27: Poor igtutratU baubles!— Unacquainted 
with the nature of our boisterous seas (Johnson). 

157 



ACT III. Scene 1. 



NOTES TO CYMBELINE. 



ACT III. Soene 1 



147. Lines SO, 81: 

TJie/am'd Ccuiibelant v^o tPOt once at point- 
to tnatter Cauar'i tusord. 

Malone points out that Shakespeare has here transferred 
to Cassibelan an incident which Holinshed relates of his 
brother Nenias<Hi8torie of England, book iii. chap, xiii.): 
"The same [British] historie also maketh mention of one 
Belinus that was generall of Cassibellanes armie, and 
likewise of Xenius brother to Cassibellane, who in fight 
happened to get Cesar's sword fastened in his sliield by a 
blow which Cesar stroke at him." 

148. Line 82: Made Lud'itown vfith rejoicing JUret 
bright,— RoMiuhed (iii. xvi.) says that "after his [Cnsar's] 
comming a land, he was vanquished in battell, and con- 
strained to flee into Gallia with those ships that remained. 
For ioy of this second victorie (saith Galfrid) Cassibellane 
made a great feast at London, and there did sacrifice to 
the gods." 

148. Lines 58, 54: 

a warlike people, whom uie reckon 
Ounelvee to he 
Clo. AND Lords. We do. 
Cym. Say then to Cceaar. 

Thus the Olobe editors. Dyce omits aixd Lords, follow- 
ing Collier's MS. The Folio assigns the whole to Cymbe- 
line, and has: 

Our selues to be, we da Say then to Ctesar. 

Ingleby prints, "be. We do I say." 

150. Lines 60.61: 

Who wan the first of Britain which did put 
Hie brows within a golden crown. 

The title of the 1st chapter of book iii. of Holinshed's 
England is: "Of Mulmucius, the first king of Britaine 
who was crowned with a golden crowne, his lawes, his 
foundations, with other his acts and deeds." Holinshed 
in this chapter says of Mulntucius: " He also made manie 
good lawes, which were long after used, called Mulmucius 
lawes. . . . After he had established his land, and set 
his Britains in good and convenient order, he ordeined 
him by the advise of his lords a crowne of golde, and 
caused himselfe with greate solemnitie to be crowned, 
according to the custom of the pagan lawes then in use : 
and bicause he was the first that bare a crowne heere in 
Britaine, after the opinion of some writers, he is named 
the first king of Britaine, and all the other before rehearsed 
are named rulers, dukes, or governors." 

161. Lines 72, 73: 

Which he to seek qf me again, petforee^ 
Behoves me keep AT uttekancb. 

Which honour, he seeking to get from me again, it per- 
force becomes me to keep d otUranee, at the extremeet 
point of defiance, te. ready to defend to the uttermost. 
Compare Macbeth, ill 1. 71, 72: 

Ktttlier than^, come. fate, into the list. 
And ctuunpion me to th' iitteraHcet 

This la certainly the most natural explanation. Ingleby, 
however, who says the phrase admits of no doubt, explains 
at utterance as = ready to be put out, or staked, like money 

158 



at interest, and, therefore, ready to be championed and 
fought for; utterance being a word used to ezpres» the 
putting out of money to interest 

ACT III. Scene 2. 

162. Line 2: What monster's her AOCUSBR?— This is 
Capell's correction, although, as usual, the later eigh- 
teenth-century editors did not give him the credit of it. 
The Folios have, " What Monsters her aeeuee." 

163. Line 5: As poisonous-tongu'd tu handed.— Whoee 
speech is as ready to slander as his hands to administer 
poison (InglebyX Hunter (New Illustrations, ii. 298) re- 
marks that a great opinion prevailed in England in EUxa- 
beth's time of the skill possessed by the Italians in tlie 
art of poisoning. 

164. Lines 7-0: 

and UMDKROOES, 

More goddess-like than wife-like, such assaults 
As would TAKE IN Some tnrtue. 

Ingleby illustrates undergo in this sense from John 
Davies of Hereford, Witte's Pilgrimage, No. 17 (Grosart. 
ii. p. 24): 

And then thou|(h Atlas on him Heav'n impose. 
He that hii};e Burden, staidly undergoft. 

To take in, it may be necessary to remind the modem 
reader, had not yet arrived at our familiar colloquial 
sense, but means to conquer, subdue, as towns or king- 
doms; for instance, Coriolauus, L 2. 24: " To take in many 
towns;" we have it again in iv. 2. 120, 121, below: 

Who call'd me traitor, mountaineer ; and swore 
With his own single hand he 'd lake us in. 

166. Lines 10, 11: 

Thy mind to her is now as low as were 

Thy fortunes. 
As compared to her, thy mind is now as low as thy for- 
tunes were in comparison with her rank. 

166. Line 17: [Reading] " Do '«; the Utter, Ac— We have 
here in verse the substance of what is given afterwards 
in prose (iii. 4. 21-83), when the letter is read at length. 
Malone remarks that this is one of the proofs that Shake- 
speare did not contemplate the publication of his pla>'s, 
for an inaccuracy which might easily escape the spectator 
could hardly fail to be noticed by an attentive reader. 

167. Lines 20, 21: 

Seneeless baubU, 

Art thou a FEDABT/or this act. 

A fedary is a confederate, accomplice, from the Latin 
fcedus; it occurs again in a difficult passage of Measure 
for Measure, see that play, note 106; and in The Winter's 
Tale, ii. 1. 80, 90, we have the yu\aaii fsderary: 

More, she 's a traitor and Camillo is 
K/ccUrary with her. 

166. Line 28: Vm ignorant in what lam commanded 
—I must appear as if these instructions had not been sent 
to me (Hunter). 

166. Lines 35-39: 

bless'dbe 

You bees tfiat make these locks of counsel ! Lovers, 

And men tu dangerous bonds, pray not alike: 



ACT III. Scene 2. 



NOTES TO CYMBELINE. 



ACT III. Scene 3. 



TkoMgh forfeUen ifou eatt inprison^ yet 
Ton eUup young Cupiffi tablet. 

The bees are not blened by the man who, forfeiting a 
bond, is sent to prison, as they are by the lover for whom 
they perform the more pleasing oflBce of sealing letters 
(Steerens). The bees are said to cast forfeiters into pri- 
•on, because the wax seal was an essential part of the 
bond forfeited or broken. 

IflO. Lines 40-43 : Jiutice, and your fathtfe wraths 

Aould he take me in hie dominion, could not he so cruel to 

me, AS you, the dearest fff creatures, vwtld even renew 

me vnth your eyes.— I take this to mean,— your father 

could not do me so much harm by his cruelty, as you 

would do me good by a sight of you. Capell inserted not 

after troiiid" to make the sentence grammatical;" Malone, 

who agreed with Capell, interpreted, "but that you, O 

detreit of creatures, would be able to renovate my spirits 

by giving me the happiness of seeing you;" Knight 

changed '*as you" to "an you;" the Folio has a colon at 

you; and Ingleby explains, "Justice and your father's 

wrath, Ac. , are not capable of as much cruelty to me as 

yoonelf, for you can refuse to meet me," and suggests 

that the relative who should be understood immediately 

before tcoiUd. 

lei. Lines 64-€6: 

and /or the gap 

That we shall make in time, from our hence-going 
A5D our return; 
it. from our hence-going to our return ; the one preposi- 
tion from has to serve for both objects, though in sense 
it belongs only to the first Compare Coriolanus, ii. 1. 
240, 241: 

He cannot temperately transport his honours 
From where he should begin and end ; 

ie. from where he should begin to where he should end. 

162. Line 00: Umo many SCORE of miles may we leell 
*n)E.~.So F. 2; F. 1 has " How many store of Miles may 
»ewtll rid. •• 

163. Lines 80, 81: 

/ see h^ore me, tnan: nor here, nor here, 
Xor what enaues, but have a fog in them. 

I tee the course that lies before me: no other whether 
^ or there, nor what may follow, but is doubtful or 
«b»cnre (RolfeX For " nor here, nor here," F. 1 has " nor 
^fe, not heere;" corrected in F. 2. 

ACT III. Scene 3. 

161 line 2: Stoop, froy«.— Hanmer's certain conjecture. 

I I has "SUtpe Boyes." 

166l Lines 5, 6: 

that giants may JET through 
And keep their impious turbatis on. 
^« idea of a giant was, among the readers of romances, 
*hu vere almost all the readers of those times, always 
««rfounded with that of a Saracen (Johnson). For jet, 
"•Twelfth Xight, note 136. 

161 Lines 16, 17: 

This service is not serviee, so being done. 
But being so allow'd. 



The doer of any particular service does not gain credit 
because he acted from good motives, but because he has 
happened to win the approval of the great 

167. Line 20: The sharded beetle.— The elytra or wing- 
cases of the beetle were termed shards; thus, Antony and 
Cleopatra, iii. 2. 20: 

They are his shards, and he their deetU. 

168. Line 22: attending /or a check,— Doing service only 
to get a rebuke for it (RolfeX 

169. Line 23: Richer than doing nothing /or a babe — 
All the emendations proposed being more or less unsatis- 
factory, I have retained the reading of the Folio, although 
it cannot be said that the sense is satisfactory: "doing 
nothing for a babe" perhaps means, dangling about in 
attendance on a youthful prince, and Belarius says that 
he is more truly rich than if such were his occupation. 
Steeveiis suggested that the words referred to the custom 
of wardship; since court favourites were often intrusted 
with the guardianship of wealthy infants, and while they 
administered the estates of the orphans they often did 
nothing for their education; but this is a very forced 
interpretation. Capell says babe =h&nh\e, i.e. a title "the 
too frequent reward of worthless services;" and Malone, 
a puppet or plaything, to gain which the courtier wastes 
his time. As to the extension of the meaning of babe, 
it should be remembered that in legal phraseology an 
ii\fant is any person under the age of twenty-one. Rowe 
altered babe to bauble, and he is followed by the Cam- 
bridge editors; Hanmer, followed by Knight, Dyce, and 
others, printed bribe, which is explained to mean "such 
a life of activity is richer than that of the bribed courtier, 
even though he pocket his bribe without rendering any 
return. " This again is rather elaborate. 

170. Lines 25, 26: 

Such gain the cap qf him that makes 'emjine. 
Yet keeps his book uncrossed. 

Such fellows are saluted by their tailor, although they 
have not paid him, and he has therefore not crossed their 
debt out of his ledger. " Makes 'em " is Capell's reading; 
the Folio has "makes him." 

171. Line 28: nor know nof.— So F. 2 ; F. 1 has knotoes. 

172. Line 34: A prison FOB a debtor.— So Pope. F. 1 has 
"A Prison, or a Debtor." 



ou^cage 



173. Lines 42, 48: 

We make a guiRE. 
Here of course the quire is the place; elsewhere in Shake- 
speare it means the company of singers or players. 

174. Line 51: i' the luime o/ /ame and honour, which 
dies C the search.— An Ingleby remarks, it is the fame and 
honour which dies in the search, though the grammatical 
antecedent is the name. Most editors put a semicolon at 
hoiumr, as if which referred to "the toil o' the war," line 
40. 

17fi. Line Si: I' the cave WHEREIN THET BOW.— War- 
burton's emendation; the Folio has whereon the Bowe. 

176. Line 86: 7Am Poltdore.— Misspelt Patodour here 
in the Folio, which elsewhere spells Polidort. 

159 



ACT III. Soeue 3. 



NOTES TO CYMBELINE. 



ACT III. Scene 4. 



177. Line 103: refV$t.—^et note 84 on i. 6. 147. 

178. Line 105: to her grave.— See note 18 on L 1. 117. 118. 

ACT III. Scene 4. 



I/'t be summer news, 



179. Lines 12, 13: 

Smile to't be/ore. 
Steevens compares Sonnet xcviil. &-7: 

Yet nor the lays of birds, nor the sweet smell 
Of different flowers in odour and in hue. 
Could make me any summer's story telL 

180. Line 39: kitxgs, queens, and STATES.— According to 
Johnson slates here signifies persons of the highest rank, 
a meaning it often bears. 

181. Lines 51. 52: 

Some J AT qf Italy, 

Whose mother was her PAiNTiNa. hath betray'd him. 

She owed all she had to boast of to painting, this was to 
her as a mother is to a virtuous wouiiin; or, as Johnson 
explains it, she was " the creature, not of nature, but of 
painting. In this sense painting may not improperly be 
termed her mother," or as Ingleby says, "The courtesan 
had no mother-qualities but such as administered to her 
vicious calling." The expression is well illustrated by 
iv. 2. 81-83 below: 

Cla. Know'sl me not by my clothes? 

Gni. No, nor thy tailor, rascal. 

Who is thy grandfather : he made those clothes, 
Which, as it seems, make thee. 

In Henry V. iv. 0. 31, 32. on the other hand, the mother- 
qualities are tenderness and sympathy: 

And all my mother came into mine eyes 
And gave me up to tears. 

Compare also Lear, ii. 4. 57, 58. The Cambridge editors, 
in note v. to this play, explain "whose mother aided and 
abetted her daughter hi her trade of seduction," an inter- 
pretation resting upon a passage in Middleton, A Mad 
World, my blasters, i. 1: 

See here she comes. 
The close courtezan, whose mother ts her hatud; 

but, as Ingleby remarks, by no ingenuity is it possible to 
make "whose mother was her painting" mean "whose 
mother was her bawd " Hanmer changed mother to 
feathers, and the Collier MS. gave the ingenious emenda- 
tion "who smothers her with painting," against which 
Mr. nalliwell-Phillips put forth a pamphlet (A Few Re- 
marks on the Emendation, "Who smothei-s her with 
painting." in the play of Cymbeline, «fcc. . 1852). For jay = 
harlot, compare Merry Wives iii. 3. 44: " we '11 teach him 
to know turtles (mm jays." 

182. Lines 54, 55: 

And, for I'm richer t?ian to hang by the avails, 
I must be ripp'd. 

Because I am a garment too valuable to be hung up on the 
wall and neglected, I nmst 1>e ripped up (slain). Steevens 
has an interesting note to the effect that in old times 
clothes which had gone out of use were not given away, 
but hung up in a nK)m devoted to the purpose, and while 
articles of inferior quality were left to go to pieces, the 

160 



richer ones were ripped up for domestic uses: "when a 
boy, at an ancient mansion-house in Suffolk, I saw one 
of tliese repositories, which (thanks to a succeflsiou of old 
maids) had been preserved, with superstitious reverence, 
for almost a century and a half. . . . AVhen Queen Eliza- 
beth died, she was found to have left above three thousand 
dresses behind her; and there is yet in the wardrobe of 
Coven t Garden Theatre, a rich suit of clothes that once 
belonged to King James I. When I saw it last, it was on 
the back of Justice Greedy, a character in Masainger's 
New Way to Pay Old Debts," 

183. Lines 60-62: 

True honest men being heard, like false jEneas, 
Were, in his time, thought false; and Sinon's tceeping 
Did scandal many a holy tear. 

The faithlessness of .£neas made people so suspicious in 
his day that every honest man was thought to be as false 
as he was. The epithet of course alludes to his desertion 
of Dido. For Sinon and his weeping, see the JElneid, book 
ii.. especially lines 195-198: 

Talibus insidiis periurique arte Sinonis 
Crcdita res, captique doUs lachmisque co.^ctis, 
Quos neque Tydides, nee l.arissacus Achilles, 
Non anni donmere decern, non mille carina:. 

184. lines 63, 64: 

so thou, Posthiimus, 

Wilt lay the leaten on all proper men. 

Wilt infect and corrupt their good name (like sour dough 
that leaveneth the whole mass), and wilt render them 
suspected (Upton). Compare Hamlet, i. 4. 29, 80: 

some habit, that too much o'er'leitxtns 
The form of pLiusive manners. 

185. Line 81: Something's AFOBE'T.— So Rowe; F. 1 has 
Orfoot. 

186. Line 82: Obedient as the scabbard.— Thtit is. if you 
stab me, my bosom shall offer no more resistance to the 
sword than would the scabbard (Ingleby). 

187. Lines 89-91: 

Stands in worse case of woe. And thou, Posthumus, 

That didst set up 

My disobedience 'gainst the king my father. 

The Folio arranges these lines unmetrically, as follows: 

Stands in worse case of woe. And thou Posihutnus, 
That didd'st set vp my disobedience V^ii)>t the King 
My Father, &c. 

I have followed Ingleby's arrangement, who thinks that 
something has fallen out after set up, since Imogen ac- 
cuses Posthumus of having occasioned her disol>edience. 
without first stating that he had won her affecttous. and 
so wrought upon her as to set her in rebellion to her 
father. Cai)ell, followed by most editors, inserted a 
second thou, and printed: 

Stands in worse case of woe. 

And thou Posthumus, thou that did'st set up 

My disobedience, &c. 

188. Line 92: And MA&Emejmt— So Malone: F. 1 has 
makes. 

189. Line 95: A STRAIN qf rareness.— CompKn Timou 
of Athens, iv. 3. 213. 214: 



ACT IIL Scene 4. 



NOTES TO CYMBELINE. 



ACT III. Soeoe 4, 



praiie hi* most vicious rtraiH^ 
And call it ezccllent 

190. Lines 96. 97: 

when thou ihalt b§ dited^d by her 

That now thou Tnt'ST on. 

To tire wu a word oied of birds of prey, meaning to seize 
and feed rsTenoosly; see III. Henry VI. note 76. For 
the flgnratlTe use compare Timon of Athens, iil 6. 4, 5: 
'Tpon that were my thoughts tir^ when we encoun- 
terd." 

191. Line 104: I'll WAKE mine eyeball* BURD/rtt.— 

The word blind is not in the Folio, and was inserted by 

Hanmer. Compare The Bevenger's Tragedy, 1608 (Haz- 

litt's Dodsley, toL x. p. 102X quoted by Steevens: 

A piteous tragedy ! able to waJte 
An old man's eyes Uood-shot 

Johnson conjectured, "111 wake mine eyeballs out first," 

In support of which Steevens quotes The Bugbears (MS. 

Lands, 807): 

I doubte 

Least for laclce of my slepe I shall watcAe my eyes oute ; 

Middleton, Roaring Girl, 1611, "1 11 ride to Oxford 
and watch out mine eyes, but I '11 hear the brazen head 
q>eak.'* 

192. Line 111: To be unbent w?ien thou ha$t ta'en thy 
VTAKD,— Stand is used in the same sense as in ii. a 75 
above; see note 112. 

193. Lines 112, 113: 

But to win time 
To loee eo bad employment. 

It might be asked, why did Pisanio allow Imogen to leave 
the court at all on what he knew was a fool's errand? 
The answer of course is that as he had to send his master 
proof of Imogen's death, it was necessary to devise some 
means for getting her safely out of the way. 

191 Line 118: Nor tknt to bottom that.— For tent com- 
pare Hamlet, ii 2. 625-627: 

I H observe his looks ; 
I H tert£ him to the quidi : if he but blench. 
I know my course ; 

and Troilus and Cressida, ii. 2. 15-17: 

but modest doubt is call'd 
The beacon of the wise, the taii that searches 
To the bottom of the worst 

196u Line 135: With that hanh, nothing noble, timple 
twrfAif^.— This is Ingleby's admirable conjecture. The 
Folio has defectively: 

With tliat liarsh, noble, simple nothmfj^ ; 

bat unless in irony, which would be strained after the 
word harOi, Imogen would certainly not call Cloten noble. 
Theobald printed: 

Whh that harsh, noble, simple. Nothing. CM^h; 

and so Capell and Pyce. Dr. Brinsley Nicholson con- 

jecturea: 

With that harsh, ifpiobie noble, simple nothing. 

19ft Lines 140-142: 

r the worUTi volume 

Our Britain eeenu tu<ifit,but not in 't; 

In a great pool a twan'e nesC. 

VOL. VIL 



Britain seems to belong to the world's volume, but hardly 
to be in it ; it is divided from it by its position in the 
ocean, like a swan's nest in a great pool is divided from 
the land. Ingleby says, "Mr. P. A. Daniel speciously 
proposes to transpose 'of it ' and ' in 't ;' as if the follow- 
ing line repeated the same thought in a metaphor. But 
the 'great pool' stands for the ocean, and not for the 
worid. Britain is * in the world's volume.' but eeemt not 
to be K), being dioiea toto orbe by the sea, as a swan's nest 
in a great pool is divided from the land.'* 

197. Lines 146, 147: 

now, if you eould wear a mind 
Dabk OS your fortune is. 

To wear a dark mind is to carry a mind impenetrable to 
the search of others. Darkneet applied to the mtfid is 
secrecy; applied to the fortune is obscurity (Johnson). 

19a Lines 140, 150: 

you Aould tread a course 

Pretty and FULL OP view. 

Does full qf view mean commanding a good prospect, 
having a good look-out, as we say (" affording fair pros- 
pect of turning out happily "—Capell), or enabling you to 
see and observe (" with opportunities of examining your 
affairs with your own eyes"— Johnson)? The Globe marks 
line 150 as corrupt 

199. Line 160: Woman it pretty self.— It here is the 
older form of its; which Utter crept into English near 
the end of the sixteenth century. The possessive it is 
usual in the early Quartos, and is found sixteen times in 
F. 1, viz. in eleven plays, in five of which it occurs twice 
. . . The possessive Us . . . occurs ten times in 
Shakespeare; but not once in King James's Bible (1611X 
where his, as in F. 1, commonly does duty for the posses- 
sive of tf (Ingleby). 

200. Line 162: As quarrelous as the weasel. — Compare 
I. Henry IV. U. 8. 81, 82: 

A weasel hath not such a deal of spleen 
As you are toss'd with. 

201. Line 164: but, 0, the harder heart I— Johuwon and 
Capell refer the heart to Posthumus, but more probably 
it is Pisanio's own heart that he apostrophixes, as too 
hard applying such language to Imogen. 

202. Lines 177. 178: 

which TOD 'LL make him know. 

If that his head have ear in music. 

So Hanmer. F. 1 has "which will make him know," &c.. 
a reading which Ingleby retains, explaining. " which will 
make him know whether he has an ear for music." 

203. Lines 184-187: 

but uw 'U even 

All that good time wiU give us: this attempt 
I 'M SOLDIER TO, and will ABIDE it With 
A prince's courage. 

We will keep pace with the time, and profit by all the 
advantage it gives us; I have enlisted myself like a soldier 
in this enterprise, and will undergo it with the courage 
befitting my birth. This is Warburton's explanation of 
/ 'm soldier to, and is much preferable to Malone's and 

161 IT! 



ACT III. Soeoe 4. 



NOTES TO CYMBEUNR 



ACT IIL Some 6. 



8toeTen>' " I un equal to thli attempt, I am up to it." 
For abide^xm&ergo, compare L 1. 89, 90: 

And I shall here a^idt the hourly shot 

ACT III. Scene 6. 

204. line 7: So, tir: I detire qf yoti.— This is the point- 
ing of the Folio. Dyoe follows Capell In pointing, "So 
air, I desire of yoo." 

205. Line 9: 

Madam, aU joy h^all your grace ! 
Queen. And you! 

This is the arrangement of the Globe. The Folio has: 
Madam, all ioy befoll your Grace, and you. 

Dyce, "with some hesitation," adopts Capell's emendation, 
" your grace, and yours t" Ingleby suggests that sir has 
fallen out at the end of the line, in which case you will 
of course refer to Cymbeline. 

206. Line 32: she looks us like.— So Johnson. F. 1 has 
*'she looke ts like;" F. 2, "she lookes as like." 

207. Line 35: We've been too SLIGHT in sufferance.'— 

Cymbeline means he has taken his daughter's conduct too 

lightly (F. 2 has light for slight), has been too negligent ; 

compare Timon of Athens, ii. 1. 16, 17: 

be not ceas'd 
With j/(f A/ dental. 

206. Line 40 : words are STROKES.— So F. 2 ; F. 1 has 
stroke ; , — . 

209. Line 44: That wUl be given to the loudest noise we 
make.—So the Globe. F. 1 has "to' th' lowd of noise;" 
Kowe, "to th' loudest noise;" Capell, "to the loud'st of 
noise." 

210. Lines 50, 51: 

but our great court 

Made me to blame in memory. 

Our important court business (with the Boman ambassa- 
dor) made me forget it (RolfeX 

211. Line 72; TAan lady, ladies, woman.— An elliptical 
climax, = (as Johnson explains) than any lady, than all 
ladies, than all womankind. Toilet compares All 's Well, 
ii. 8. 202: " To any count,— to all counts,— to what is man." 

212. Lines 73. 74: 

and she, of aU compounded. 

Outsells them all. 
Compare ii. 4. 102 above: 

Her pretty action did outsell her {ifift 

213. Line 80: What, are you packing, sirrah!— In the 
foot-note I have explained packing in its commonest 
sense, i.e. running away; perhaps, however, it means 
plotting, as in Taming of the Shrew, v. 1. 121: "Here's 
packing ... to deceive us all ! " 

214. Line 101: Or this, or perish.— I must either practise 
this deceit upon Cloten, or perish by his fury (Malone). 

216. Lines 144, 145: my speech qf insultxbitt ended on 
his dead body.— The word insultment (spelt insultnent in 
F. 1, insultment in F. 2) does not occur elsewhere in Shake- 

162 



speare, and insult as a substantive does not occur at all; 
insuU as a verb is common enough, but always with the 
idea of exulting or triumphing as a victor over an enMny. 

ACT in. Scene 6. 

21& Lines 7, 8: 

Foundations ;fy the wretched; tuck, I mean. 
Where they should be reliev'd. 

Places though as fixed as a haven, such as Milford, seem 
to fly away from the wretched who look for rest and relief 
in them. Schmidt is perhaps right in seeing a pun on 
foundation in the sense of a charitable establishment 

217. Lines 12, 13: 

to LAPSE in fulness 

Is sorer than to lie for need. 

The verb lapse seems to have been specially used of the 
sin of lying; thus Coriolanus, v. 2. 17-19: 

For I have ever verified my friends — 

or whom he's chief— with all the size that verity 

Would without lapsing suffer. 

218. Lines 21, 22: 

HARDNESS ever 

Of hardiness is mother 

For hardness, in the sense of hardship, compare Othello, 

I 3. 232-234: 

I do agnize 

A natural and prompt alacrity 

I find in hardntss. 

In V. 5. 431 below, the word has its usual sense of diffUvUy. 

219. lines 23, 24: 

If any thing that 's civil, speak; if savage, 
Take or lend. 

The difficult words take or lend seem to mean, as Johnson 
explained them, take what I have to give for what I 
want, or lend it to me for future payment Malone sup- 
ports this interpretation by what Imogen says below, 
lines 47, 48: 

Before I enter'd here, I call'd; and thought 
T' have begg'd or bought what I have took. 

Ingleby suggests that lend has its common meaning of 
afford, grant, as in " lend me your ear," '*lend me an arm; " 
but in this sense the verb is not used absolutely. It 
shoidd be added that Johnson wished to make txike or 
lend and speak change places. Schmidt proposes, ** take 
or leave, i.e. destroy me or let me live;" but tills wfll 
hardly commend itself to the student. 

220. Line 27: Such a foe, good AeatwtM/— Pope, and even 
Theobald, read, " Grant such a foe," which may be the 
meaning; perhaps, however, Imogen means, "Snch a 
(harmless) foe as I am!" Capell has: 

Such a foe. ye good heavens I 

The Folio begins Scena SepHma here (after line 27X And 
our scene 7 is Scena Octaua. 

221. Line 28: You, Polydore, have prov'd best wood- 
man.— Steevens points out that the common meaning of 
woodman was a hunter. Compare Lucrece, 580, 581: 

He is no "woodpnan that doth bend his bow 
To strike a poor unseasoaable doc 



ACT lU. SoeiM a 



NOTES TO CYMBELINE. 



ACT IV. Scene 1. 



Lines 84, 35: 

vfheH BlSTT rioth 

Finds the down-pUlow hard. 

The word retty has been misunderstood by Schmidt, who 
explains it " stiff with too much rest," as if it came from 
re«<= repose. In point of fact it is a rariant of restive^ a 
form which does not occur in Shakespeare, and is derived 
from the French rester, to remain (£ng. rest =■ to remain, be 
left oTer, a distinct word from rMt^ repose), the meaning 
being, as Johnson gives it in his dictionary, "obstinate 
in standing still," that is, stubborn, refusing to move 
(Cotgrave has restif^ restie, stubborn, drawing backward); 
and this meaning suits the other two passages in which 
Shakespeare uses the word. viz. Sonnet c. 9: 

Rife, resty Muse, my lore's sweet face survey; 

ftod Troilus and Cressida, L S. 261-26S. Quarto 1609: 

A Prince calld Heetor . . . 

Who in his dull and lon^ continued truce, 

Is restu growne: (The Folio has rusty.) 

as well as the passage referred to by Schmidt in £dward 
lU. iil 8. 159-102: 

Such as, but scant them of their chines of beefe 

And take awaie their downie featherbeds, 

And presently they are as r<sfy-itxSe, 

As twere a many orerridden iades : 

and the following, quoted by Ingleby, " I hope he is better 
than a testy lade that will not stir out of the stable."— 
Nicholas Breton, The Court and the Country, 1618 (Oros- 
art, I, u. 9). So here "resty sloth" must = stubborn or 
lazy sloth, sloth which will not take the exercise necessary 
to enable it to " snore upon a flint" Nowadays we have 
confused reHive with restUss, but this seems to be quite 
a modem mistake, otherwise it would serve to explain 
onr passage admirably. 



line 86: Poor HOUSB, that keep'st thtsblt I— The 
best commentary on this line is As You Like It, iv. 3. 82, 
88: 

But at this hour /Mt Mouse doth keep ttse(/; 
There 's none within. 

2M. Lines a9-71: 

Were you a tDoman, youth, 

J shotUd woo hard but be your groom in honesty: 

I bid /or you as I do buy. 

If you were a woman, I should woo hard to be (at any 
rate) your servant in an honourable way: I bid for your 
friendship on the same terms as I offer mine,— I hope to 
get as much as I give. The force of but is more easily 
ai^Hredated than explained; perhaps the best suggestion 
is that of Dr. Abbott (Sh. Gr. { 126X that there is a con- 
fusion with the phrase. "It would go hard with me 
bat ..." Most modem editors remove the colon after 
" in honesty " and connect the words with the following 
line in the sense " in tmth." 



Lines 76-79: 

Would it had been so, that they 

Had been my father's sons! then had my prize 

Been less; and so more equal battasting 

To thee, PosthAmus. 

If they had been really my brothers I should not have 
been the heir, and Posthumos would not have captured 
ao valuable a prize in me, for my freight would have been 



less, and more of a counterbalance to his. Schmidt, com- 
paring Antony and Cleopatra, v. 2. 183, 184: 

Caesar's no merchant, to make/rtjir with you 
Of things that merchants sold— 

explains pru« as = estimation. 

22& Lines 85, 86: 

laying by 

That nothing-gift cf differing multitudes. 

Putting aside as of no account the barren honour or empty 
praise awarded by the mass, who lack the perception of 
true worth, and do not agree about it (Ingleby X Steevens 
compares II. Henry IV. Induction 19: 

The iXxW-discordant wavering tntiititude. 

227. Line 89: Since Leonatus' fcUse.—So Dyce (after 
Walker) to mark the elision of is. F. 1 has Since Leonatus 
false; Howe and The Globe, Leonatus 's. 

ACrr III. Scene 7. 

22& Line 6: The fall'n-off Britons. - Compan I. 
Henry IV. i- 3- 93, 94: 

Revolted Mortimer! 

He never dkA/ali off, my sovereign liege. 

229. Lines 8-10: 

to you the tribunes, 

For this immediate levy, he COMMANDS 

His absfAute commission. 
Theobald, at the suggestion of Warburton, changed com- 
mands to commends, and so Dyce and the Globe: but 
compare iii. 5. 157 above: "that is the second thing I 
have commanded thee." 

ACT IV. Scene 1. 

230. Lines 12, 13: alike conversant in GENERAL SERVICES, 
and more remarkable in SINOLB oppositions. —The mean- 
ing of single oppositions will depend upon the meaning 
we assign to general services. If "conversant in general 
services" might be explained as=a man generally service- 
able, able to make himself generally useful, as the adver- 
tisements say, we might adopt Schmidt's interpretation 
of " single oppositions" as = when compared as to particu- 
lar accomplishments; but if the former expression = versed 
in military affairs in general, "single oppositions" will 
be, as usually explained, = single combats. Compare I. 
Henry IV. I. Z. 99-101: 

In single offcsUion, hand to hand. 

He did confound the best part of an hour 

In changing hardiment with great Glendower. 

231. Lines 15, 16: yet this imperseterant thing loves 
him in my despite.— I mperseverant is the contrary of 
perseverant, a word which means discerning, while the 
corresponding substantive perseverance means discern- 
ment. Compare Greene, The Pinner of Wakefield, p. 261 
(ed. Dyce, 1 voL ed.): 

Why, this is wondrous, being blind of sight. 

His dct^ perseverance should be such to know us; 

and Middleton, The Widow. iU. 2: 

Methinks the words 
Themselves should make him do't. had he but itat perseverance 
Of a cock-sparrow, that will come at Philip, 
And can nor write nor read, poor fool I 

163 



ACT lY. Scene 1. 



NOTES TO CYMBELINE. 



ACT lY. Soene S. 



Other instances of these words will be found quoted by I 
W. R. Arrowsmith in Notes and Queries, April 28, 1858. 
Dyce unnecessarily changes the spelling to impereeiverant, 
a form which, as Kolfe remarks, is hardly an admissible 
derirative from perceive. Schmidt explains impeneverarU 
as = giddy, flighty, thoughtless (as if it were the opposite 
of per»evering% but this does not suit the context. 

232. Line 19: thy garments cut to pieces h^ore'BVB.faee. 
—So Hanmer. F. 1 has "before thy face," which Warbur- 
ton, Capell, and Maione defend ; but, as Byce remarks, 
"Cloten could have no possible object in cutting to pieces 
the garments of Posthumus before his face, even if Post- 
humus had been alive to witness the dissection. Cloten 
wishes to cut them to pieces before the face of Imogen, 
as a sort of revenge for her having said to him [il 8. 188- 
141 abovel— 

His meanest garttunt. 
That erer hath but clipp'd his body, is dearer 
In my respwct than all the hairs abore thee, 
Were they all made such men." 

ACT IV. Scene 2. 

233. Line 8: so crnzRN a wanton.— CttOen^ cockney- 
bred, effeminate. For wanton in the sense of a luxurious, 
effeminate person, compare King John, v. 1. 69, 70: 

shall a beardless boy, 
A cocker'd silken wantan, brave our fieidsf 

234. Lines 17, 18: 

How MUCH the quantity, the weight as much, 
As I do love my father. 

Sir Philip Perring (Hard Knots, p. 450) proposes to punc- 
tuate. 

How much the quantity, the weight, as much 
As I do love my father ; 

and this is adopfed by Ingleby. According to Schmidt 
Bote mue^ =however much. 

236. Line 35: Th'imperioiisseasbreedsmonsters—SoF. 1: 
changed in the later Folios to breed, but, it need hardly 
be observed, such false concords are very common both 
in Shakespeare and in contemporary writers. 

236. Line 88: I'll now taste of thy dnig.—AlmoBt all 
modem editions make Imogen "drink" or "swallow" 
here. But evidently she does nothing of the kind. She 
retires into the cave to drink Pisanio's drugs (Ingleby). 
Kowe inserted the stage-direction, Drinks out of the Viol. 

237. Lines 47, 48: 
This youth, however distressed, appears he hath had 
Oood ancestors. 

A confusion of two constructions, "He hath had, it ap- 
pears, good ancestors," and " He appears to have had 
good ancestors" (Abbott, Sh. Or. f 41 !> 

238. Line 49: Qui. But his neat cookery T he CUT OUR 
ROOTS IN CHARACTERS.— So Capell. F. 1 has, 

Cut. But his neate Cookeriet 
Arui. He cut, &c. 

For "he cut our roots in characters," Steevens compares 
Fletcher, The Elder Brother, act iv. sc. 1 (p. 117, ed. 1679), 
"a Bookish Boy that never knew a Blade above a Pen- 
knife, and how to cut his meat in Characters.'* 

164 



289. Lines 57, 58: 

That grief and patience, rooted in HIM hcih. 
Mingle their SPURS together. 

So Pope. F. 1 has "rooted in them both." The spurs, 

says Maione, are " the longest and largest leading roots 

of trees;" compare The Tempest, v. 1. 47, 48: 

and by the sfurs pluck'd up 
The pine and cedar. 

240. Line 58: Qrov, PATIENCXI— So Theobald (Kowe, 
•• Grow Patience "X F. 1 has " Grow poMeni,". 

241. Lines 59, 60: 

And let the stinking eider, grief, untwine 
His perishing root with the increasing vine I 

The increasing vine is patience, from which grief is to 
untwine its root, and so perish. Instances of this pro- 
leptic use of the adjective ("perishing root," "increasing 
vine") are collected by Schmidt, p. 1420. 

242. Line 61: It tf j^at morning. —The same expression 
occurs in Troilus and Cressida, iv. Z. 1. Steevens com- 
pares the French "grand Jour." 

243. Line 81: Knowst me not by my clothes f—lng\ehy 
has an interesting note here: "It is doubtful whether 
Cloten, unmindful of his disguise, expects Guiderius to 
recc^nize him as the Queen's son ; or whether he supposes 
a stranger would take him for Posthumus, because he 
wears Posthumus' clothes. Perhaps Shakespeare com- 
mitted here the oversight he did in W[inter's] TTale], iv. 4 
[776], where the shepherd is made to say to his son, ' His 
garments are rich, but he wears them not handsomely;' 
the fact being that Autolycus was attired, not in Florizel's 
court suit, but in 'a swain's wearing.' Such oversights 
were easily committed, and not easily detected by an un- 
critical audience, who enjoyed the fun of the situation, 
without being curious as to the consistency of the plot" 

244. Line 86: Thou INJURIOUS fAi^.— Compare Corio- 
lanus, iii. 3. 69: 

Call me their traitor !— Thou injurums tribune ! 

246. Line 90: I cannot tremble at U: were it Toad, OR 
Adder, Spider.— Cai>ell omitted the words or Adder, 
Spider, for the sake of the metre. 

246. Line 101: No company's abroad.^Bo F. 3 and F. 4 ; 
F. 1 has Companie's, of which the Globe and other modem 
editors make companies. 

247. Lines 105, 106: 

the snatches in his voice. 

And burst qf speaking, were as his. 

An abrupt and tumultuous utterance very frequently 
accompanies a confused and cloudy understanding (John- 
sonX 

24a Lines 110-112: 

?ie had not appreheneion 

Of roaring terrors; for TH' EFFECT cf judgement 

Is oft the CAUSE of fear. 

This is Theobald's reading, which is in harmony with the 
prevailing taste for antitheses, bringing out as it does the 
contrast between cattse and effect The inference of courae 
is, that as Cloten had no Judgment he had no fear. 



ACT IV. SoeiM i. 



NOTES TO CYMBELINE. 



ACT IV. Scene 2. 



Tlie Folio hat: 

For d^tct of iudf ement 

Is oft the fiSMM of Feare — 

which logleby retains; but I cannot but thinlc hit ex- 
planation, which is to the following effect, rather forced: 
" It is the dtjeet of Judgment, i.t. its defective exercise, 
not its total absence, which is the cause of fear ; Cloten 
had no judgment at all, and the words ' defect of Judg- 
ment' do not apply to him." But surely, according to 
any natural reading of the passage, nothing is clearer 
than that they do. Malone and Dyce adopted Hanmer's 
conjecture, 

for d^tct of Judgement 
Is oft the curt dl fear. 

148. Line 122: THANK tht god* I— So Steevens. F. 1 has 
" tkanki the Gods." 

550. lines 128. 129: 

Playjtulge and executioner all himte{f. 
For tee do /ear THE lawt 

Ce. because, forsooth, we are afraid of the law? F. 1 
punctuates: 

all hinuelfet 
For we do feare the Law. 

F. 2 has a plausible correction, "For we do feare no Law. " 

551. Line 1S2: Though hie humour.— 8o Theobald. F. 1 
has Honor. 



Line 141: He'd PSTCH us IN.— Compare Antony 

and Cleopatra, It. 1. 12-14: 

within oar filet there are, 

Of those that serr'd Mark Antony but iate. 

Eaoiicb to/etcA him in. 

188. Line 170: how thytelj thou blazon' st.— So Pope. 
F. 1 has thou thy te{fe thou. 



Line 186: My HfOENlOUS instrument !— Spelt in-^ 
genuoue in the Folio, but the words are used indiscrimi- 
nately in the old editions. Joseph Hunter suggested that 
the .£olian harp is the instrument intended. 

886. Lines 206, 206: 

to tkow what coast thy sluggish CRA&B 
Might basilust harbour in f 

F.lhas 

thy sluggiih cart 
Mqfht'st easiiest harbour in. 

F. 2 has *' Might easilest." Crare was suggested by Symp- 

son in a note on Fletcher's Captain (ed. 1750, vol. vL p. 

441X act L sc. 2 (p. 48, ed. 1647): 

Let him venture 

In som decaid Crart of his owne, 

and was first introduced into the text by Steevens. Ac- 
cording to Heath (Bevisal, p. 486) "a crare is a small 
trading vessel ... I myself have met with the word 
in ancient records above a thousand times. It is called 
in the Latin of those middle ages, erayera." Steevens 
qootea Heywood, Golden Age, 1611 (ed. 1874, vol. ilL p. 12): 

Behold a forme to make your Cratrs and Barkes, 
To passe huge streames ia safety. 

and 3Calone, Florlo, Italian Dictionary, *' Vurchio. A 
bolke, a crayer, a lyter, a wherrie, or such vessel of 
bortben. " Warborton suggested ear rack, which is printed 
by Theobald and Hanmer. 



256. Lines 207, 208: 

Jove knows what man thou mightst have made; tnit I, 

Thou diedst, a most rare boy, of melancholy! 

Dr. Brinsley Nicholson, with great probability, conjee* 
tures, "but ay!" ue. ahl the / of the Folio being the 
usual printing of aye, which word took the place of the 
original ay in the mind of the transcriber or compositor. 

267. Lines 210. 211: 

Thus smiling, as somefiy had tickled slumber, 
Not as death's dart, being laugh'd at. 

Smiling as if he had been tickled in his sleep by some fly 
and was laughing at it, not looking as if he had been 
smitten with death's dart. 

26a Line 214: My clouted bkoqves.— Brogues, properly 
speaking, are rough shoes made of untanned leather; but 
all that is intended here is a heavy shoe patched with 
leather, such as the Oibeonites wore in Joshua ix. 5: "old 
shoes and clouted upon their feet." Rolfe quotes Latimer, 
Sermons: " he should not have clouting leather to piece 
his shoes with." 

869. Une 217 : With FEMALE fairies will his tomb 6e 
haunted.— Vihy female t Douce (Illustrations, ed. 1889^ 
p. 380) says, " harmless and protecting spirits, not fairies 
of a mischievous nature. " 

200. Line 218: And worms will not come to THEE.— For 
the change of person see note 18 on i. 1. 118. 

261. Line 222 : The AZUR'D HAREBELL, like thy veint,^ 
Compare iL 2. 22, 23, of the eyelid : 

Under these windows, white and asHre, lac'd 
With blue of heaven's own tiuct. 

By har^)ell Shakespeare meant the wild hyacinth or blue- 
bell {Scilla nutans) with its delicately veined flowers, 
called by Gerard " Blew English Hare-Bells." The name 
is now given to the *' Round-leafed Bell-flower" of Gerard, 
called in Scotland the Bluebell (Campanula rotundifolia). 

262. Line 224 : the ruddock.— Sftelt Raddocke in F. 1. 
The word is used by Spenser, e.g. Epithalamion (p. 688 
of Works. Globe ed), quoted by Rolfe, "The Ruddock 
warbles soft." 

263. Line 229: To winter- GROUND thy eorss.— "To 
unnter-ground a plant," says Steevens, "is to protect it 
from the inclemency of the winter season, by straw, 
dung, <fcc., laid over it This precaution [known to 
gardeners as mulching] is commonly taken in respect 
of tender trees or flowers, such as Arviragus, who loved 
Fidele, represents her to be." Warburton, followed by 
Capell, substituted winter-gown. Ingleby conjectured 
twitxe around, or wind around; the last was also sug- 
gested by Elxe. The notion of the redbreast covering 
dead bodies, best known from the ballad of the "Babes 
in the Wood," seems to be an old one; Reed quotes 
Thomas Johnson, Cornucopia, 1606: "The robin redbreast 
if he find a man or a woman dead, will cover all his face 
with mosse, and some thinke that if the body should 
remaine unburied that he would cover the whole body 
also;" and Steevens, Drayton, The Owl : 

Cov'rinfc with moss the dead's unclosed eye, 
The little red-breast teacheth chahtie. 

165 



ACT IV. Soma 2. 
3H Llua23T: Jiun 



NOTES TO CYMBELINE. 



t aur mBlJur.— So Pops. F. 1 bu 



MS. Unet UJ. US: 

That angtl qf Iht uorld. 
Bmmta, or ixa ttgui to (ubocdlnkUoo, la Ihs power 
ttut keepi pekCB uid ord« In U» world (Johuon). 

M6. Une £U: <h mud lay kit had to U' aut— Kolfe 
nten (he remdar M Bnod'i Fopulu' AntiqniUet, Bohu'i 
ed. roL il. p. tM, 0. 

KT. Line WI: To Um Ue ruil u u Uc «at; («., u 
Ingleby eiplalnt. we«kiieu ind itisiigth in nuitleri of 
Indlfferenca to jrou, mnd therefoie " Cin no mora to clothe 

le thougbt 



M>. Unena:.VoMO«un-Ao™(A«.'-SeeAir«WelI 
note SOI. It li lunll]' ueceswo' to refer Ihe reader t- 
ColUtu'i well-knowD Dlise, "To IWt Fldelc'i gnu; tomb.' 



no. Llii* tW: Quitl 
qnal«i EJward 111. iv. e. 41- 
Mr uule ilKxild ]r«ld 



m. LioelSS: irpontAetr/a«i.— Cloten'iclotpoUhii- 
lng been Hnt down (he tueun (liae IM sboie), Cmpell uid 
Ullone ull Bttentlun to tbe fut thit there wu but one 
tue on which the Oowen could he itrewed. iDglebj'i 
galluit attempt to vlndlckte the poet'i coniiiUnc]i bjr 
remorlntE the period it/oeci. and eiplainioc, "Upon the 
(acei of tbe hertii j'ou were u flowen now withered. 
Juit to. theM berbleti, which we >trew upon you. •hkll 
aarre (or flowen"— will commend Itaair to few. Ereo lU 
aathor admlta Uut " tiuiU la an extraordinary altipiU." 

tn. Line aM: lois tAd'rfuin. — So Pope, F.lhu">a 

m. Line Sit: Tlu aKLVaB lif BtraiUt For brawn, 

li. brawny arm, compare Corlolauiu, ll. Ik 1X5, ISS: 



of mv torrf. — So Pope. 



174. Line 810: HAST hirt 
F. 1 hM Bath. 

m Una SES: TkiM it Pitania'i dud and Clotiu'S.— 
So Pope. F.lhai" and Clown." 

ITS Linens: Tkty are in nadinia.—ioV.t: F. 1 bu 
'■They are lutrt In readlneaae,"— the Aearg of the pn- 
Tloni Una having been accidentally repeated. 

ITT. UnBSXl'.ThtinaUhathitirr'diiptStc&BiafEIS. 
— Ai eanfimt In Shikeapeire meant a diitrict or terrltorj, 
Schmidt il perhapi right In eiplilnlDg nn/nerj to be (he 
InhablUnti or luch a dlitricL Ihe word U uiunlly ex- 
pUlned (o mean bardertr,, i >. tboH who Uve on (he con- 
Boe* or borden, bat ahiJiopeira doet not uu un/nti In 



ITS. UnaUT: 
(he id, nc 
EiodilLS, "nt 
ya arerluUng d( 



and jiraip'A— For the omlidon of 

In Terbi which emd Id (, compare 

with Are;" Pi. nlr. 7, "bsTelinap, 



And mokt him uUk our pika and partiiant 

A grant. 
Ingleby, loUowlng SleeTent, remuka: " Luclu* latendi 
hnry aoten; but (be erent ihowi th^ ansr all. the cu 
Il only lupeillclally protected 'from the Rlet.' U tta 



ACT IV. SCEHK 3. 

I.2S: 

IP yvu /er a adoaon ; bMi 



ipan The Taming of tl 



1F( 'U ai 

For iftp, B hunting term, con 
Shrew, V. i. bt: 

O, III. Luccstiii •Itfj.-J inc Ukt bli rohomid. 
Dtptad perhaps contains the notions both of imptBding 
uid beii^ in naptntt: tot depend = impend, compare 
TroJus and CreMlds, U. S. 11: "Uiat, methiulu, ia the 
cone depmdant on those that war for a placket." 
tSl. Lines W. SO: 

Yuur prrparation can AFFRONT NO LE9fl 

Than irhat you hear tif. 



will bring Bgainst us" — fail* to explain the words no teis. 
Uurrsy (New £ng. Diet.) Interprets, " to face antlclpa- 
Clrely; to prepare to meet; look oat for;" and 11 this It 
correct, we must explain, "yoor prepantiooi hare been 
made on such a scale that thej can be on the laok-oa( 
(or no smsller force than that wbich we hear is coming 
against lu;" but Ingleby's interpretation glrca the bst 
seuse—"nJron( = bring to the encounter;" i.e. yon can 
bring no lees a force Into the field than the one we hear 
of. I regret ths( I can And no parallel uae of the word, 
m Une 36: I BIABD no letter /rtm mg maeter.~l 
hare not heard a ayllibU (ram him. Hanmer changed 
1 hrard Into fee had: Mason conJecUired / had, whli^ 
Collier adopted. The original reading Is supported by 
line 38: "Nor Aear / from my mlstnai'' 

ACT IV. SCKHB *, 
183. Une 1: fad m.—Bo 7. 1; F. 1 has utjlnde. 



i: For barbaTont and uimatuTi 



keAMnanAorssj.— SoBowe, F.lbasIA«ir, 



0/ many in (As army, fte. 
This speacb 1* i striking example o( tbe a 
tt;l* to chsracterittlcof Bhakespean'i latait playsi com- 
pare- BeUrtua' speeches hi It. 1. UO-IU, lOS-tOS, and 181- 



ACT IV. Scene 4. 



NOTES TO CYMBELINR 



ACT V. Soene S. 



tn. Lines 20, 27: 

Whojlnd in my exUe the want of breeding , 

The CUtTAIHTT qf this HARD life. 
Malo&e ezpUlDB eertauUy as =: the certain consequence of: 
can it mean the hard (act, stem necessity, of this kind of 
lifer iJarrf is the reading of F. 2; F. 1 has Aeard. 

nB. Line 3S: and thereto so o'erffroum.—And in addi- 
tion to that so overgrown with hair. Byce compares t. 

3. 16, 17, speaking of Belarios: 

who deserv'd 

So kioff a breeding; as his white beard came to. 
Compare also As Tou Like It, ir. 8. 107: 

A wretched ragf^ man. o'trgromm with hair. 

Schmidt, comparing Measure for Measure, i. 8. 22: 

Eren lilce an ^ergroiun Uon in a cave, 

thinks it may possibly mean grown old. 

ACT V. Scene 1. 
»9. Lines 1, 2: 

Yea, bloody cloth, I'U keep thee; for I AM with'd 
Thou ehouUUt be coUur'd thtu. 
So F. 1. Pope, followed by most editors, unnecessarily 
read / wieh'd. The cloth is the "bloody sign" which 
Pisanio said he would send to Posthumus in iii. 4. 128. 



Lines 13-15: 

you some permit 

To second ill* tcith ills, each elder toorse. 
And make them dread it, to the doers' thrift. 
This is a rery vexed passsge, and the Globe editors mark 
line 15 as corrupt Vet if the words are taken in their 
plain meaning they give satisfactory sense enough. ' ' Each 
elder worse" must mean, each ill or crime worse than the 
one which had preceded it, the crime being termed elder 
because conmiitted at a more advanced age. To make 
"each elder" refer to the ill-doer (the older every man 
gets the worse he gets) and not to the ill deed, is intoler- 
ably harsh. Sowe, without the shadow of an authority, 
substituted "each worse than other." We may then pa- 
raphrase the whole passage, with Monck Mason: "Some 
you snatch from hence for little faults; others yon suffer 
to heap ills on ill, and afterwards make them dread their 
hMfiag done so, to the eternal welfare of the doers." Theo- 
bald sobstitnted dreaded for dread it, and took quite an- 
other view of the line. " which Enormities not only make 
them revered and dreaded, but turn in other kinds to 
tlieir Advantage. Dignity, Respect, and Profit, accrue to 
them fkt>m Crimes committed with Impunity." Capell, 
who adopts Theobald's reading, explains, and "make the 
iUs enormons and dreadful, to the great profit of those 
who do them. " 

m. Lines 32, 38: 

To shame the guise o' the world, I toiU begin 
The fashion, — less without and more within. 

Whereas the guise or fashion of the world is, more with- 

oot and less within. 



ACT V. Scene 3. 

Lines 4. 5: 

the king himself 

Of his wings destitute, &c. 



The commentators point out that this incident of .the 
Eoman army being stopped in a lane by Belarius and his 
foster-sons is borrowed from Holinshed's Scotland (p. 155X 
where it is related of a father and two sons, called Haie, 
as having happened during the reign of Kenneth, A.D. 
976: "The Danes, perceiving that there was no hope of 
life, but in victorie rushed forth with such violence upon 
their adversaries, that first the right, and then after the 
left wing of the Scots, was constreined to retire and flee 
backe, the middle warde stoutly yet keeping their ground: 
but the same stood in such danger, being now left naked 
on the sides, that the victorie must needes have remained 
with the Danes, had not a renewer of the battell come in 
time, by the appointment (as it is to be thought) of al- 
mightie Ood. 

" For as it chanced, there was in the next field at the 
same time an husbandman, with two of his ions bnsie 
about his worke, named Haie, a man strong and stiffe in 
making and shape of bodie, but indued with a valiant 
courage. This Haie beholding the king, with the most 
part of the nobles, fighting with great valiancie in the 
middle ward, now destitute of the wings, and in great 
danger to be oppressed with the great violence of his eni- 
mies, caught a plow-beame in his hand, and with the same 
exhorting his sonnes to doo the like hasted towards the 
battelL . . . There was neere to the place of the battell, 
a long lane fensed on the sides with ditches and walles 
made of turfe, through the which the Scots which fled 
were beaten downe by the enimies in heapes. 

" Here Haie with his sonnes, supposing they might best 
stale the fight, placed themselves overthwart the lane« 
beat them backe whom they met fleeing, and spared nei- 
ther friend nor fo: but downe they went all such as came 
within their reach, wherewith divene hardie personages 
cried unto their fellows to retume backe unto the battelL" 

293. Lines 16, 17: 

who deserv'd 

So long a breeding as his white beard came to. 

That is, who showed by his valour that he hsd profited 
by such long experience (in arms) as his long white beard 
cited (InglebyX 

294. Line 20: The country 6ase.— According to the New 
English Diet either a specific use of base, the starting- 
place of a race, or a corruption of bars. This game is not 
unfrequently mentioned in the writers of Shakespeare's 
time. 

296. Line 24: "Our Britain's HABTS die flying, not our 
men."— So Pope in his 2nd ed. (1728), following a suggestion 
made by Theobald in his Shakespear Restored (1726X The 
Folio has hearts, which Ingleby defends, but unsuccess- 
fully, for where is the antithesis between hearts and ment 

29& Line 42: Chickens, the way which they STOOP'S 
eagles.— V. 1 has stopt; Rowe, stoopt 

297. Lines 42, 43: 

slaves. 

The strides thet victors made. 

That is, retracing as slaves the onward strides they had 
made as victors (RolfeX F. 1 has "the victors;" changed 
by Theobald to they. 

167 



ACT v. Soene 3. 



NOTES TO CYMBELINE. 



ACT V. Soane 4. 



896. line 44: fragmenU in hard voyo^^.— Ingleby aptly 

lUnstratei by Ab You Like It, U. 7. 39, 40: 

dry as the remainder biscuit 
After a voyage. 

299. Lines 46-48: 

heavent, how they wound! 

SOMK dain b^ore; SOME dying; SOME their /riendt 
O'er -borne »" the former wave. 

It is difficult to decide whether the three iomes are nomi- 
natives or accusatives: the words "some their friends" 
would certainly seem to mean " some wound their friends" 
rather than "they wound some who were their friends," 
and therefore it is better perhaps to decide in favour of 
the nominative. The lines will then mean: heavens, 
how they wound! Some wound those slain before; some 
wound the dying; some wound their friends who had been 
overwhelmed in the former charge. 

300. Line 64: Still going f i.e. you run away from me as 
you did from the enemy (Sidney Walker). 

801. Lines 73-76: 

WM, I vnllfind him : 

Fortune being now a favourer to the Briton, 

No more a Briton, I *ve resum'd again 

The part I came in. 

The Folio has 

For beini; now a Fauourer to the Britaine, 

the only sense that can be extracted from which reading 
seems to be: " I am determined to find death, for though 
I am now on the side of the Britons, I have resumed the 
part I came in (death being more likely to be found on 
the side of the Romans, who are now the vanquished party) 
and am a Briton no longer." Capell's attempt to make 
favourer refer to death will not do; as Ingleby remarks, 
" Death could not. with any propriety of speech, be said 
to favour the side he was eparing." Fortune is the con- 
jecture of the late Mr. A. E. Brae, first printed by Ingleby 
(1886). In the words " No more a Briton." Ac, Posthu- 
mus perhaps refers to his having resumed his "Italian 
weeds," which we must suppose him to wear when he is 
taken prisoner. In scene 2 he had 1)een disguised as a 
"poor soldier" of the British army. 

302. Line 78: Once touch my shoulder.— A token of 
arrest Compare As You Like It, iv. 1. 47, 48 : " it may be 
said of him that Cupid hath dapp'd him o' the shoulder;" 
i.e. taken him prisoner. 

ACT V. Scene 4. 

803. Lines 1, 2: 
You tfuUl not now be etol'n, you 've locks upon you; 
So graze ae you find pasture. 

The wit of the Gaoler alludes to the custom of putting 
a lock on a horse's leg when he is turned to pasture 
(Johnson). 

304. Lines 11-17: 

Is't eiumgh I'm sorry 1 

So chUdren temporal fathers do appease; 
Oods are more full of mercy. Must 1 repent ? 
1 cannot do it better than in gyves, 
Desir'd more than constrain' d. To satiify} 

168 



If qf my freedom 'tis the main part, take 
No stricter render qf me than my all. 

This very difficult passage does not seem to have been 
understood by any of the commentators before Inglebf , 
who found the key to it in the fact that Posthumos, who 
is here enlarging upon the means of repentance (the 
penitent instrument) which are to set him free, "la made 
to employ the language of the eaily divines, in distin- 
guishing the three parts (primary, secondary, and 'main') 
of Repentance, as the condition of the Remission of Sins. 

1. Attrition, or sorrow for sin: ' Is 't enough, I am aorry?* 

2. Penance; which was held to convert attrition into 
contrition, or godly sorrow: 'Must I repent?* Z. Satia- 
f action: ' Must I satisfy!* And he contends that as he 
has fulfilled the former requirements, he is willing to 
fulfil the last— to pay his debt, for having taken Imogen's 
life, by giving up his own." To satisfy f following Must 
I repent ; = Must I satisfy ? according to the usage familiar 
to all Shakespeare students, by which the to is omitted 
in the former of two clauses, and inserted in the latter 
(Abbott, § 350); so, to take one example out of many, 
Timon of Athens, iv. 2. 83, 34: 

Who *d be so mock'd with griory T or to live 
But in a dream of friendship! 

Here wotUd is replaced by to in the second clause. Just as 
must is replaced by to in the text The it in " If of my 
freedom 't is the main part" refers to sati^action implied 
in "To satisfy?" and the line means, if this satisfaction 
is the principal condition of my spiritual freedom, of my 
pardon and absolution. Then in the next line strider 
does not mean " more severe," but " more restricted, less 
exacting." Posthumus does not want the gods to remit 
any part of his debt; he wishes them to take his all, ie. 
his life; he does not ask for any abatement, such as vile 
men give their broken debtors. This interpretation was 
suggested to Ingleby by Mr. A. £. Brae in 1864, and in- 
dependently by Mr. Jos. Crosby in 1876. The Cowden- 
Clarkes also (in their 3 vol. ed. of Shskespeare) believe 
this meaning to be "included" in stricter, and adduce 
the following illustration from Hooker, "As they took 
the compass of their commission stricter or larger, so 
their dealings were more or less moderate." 

306. Lines 80-122: No more, thou thunder-master, Acw, 
(fee.— Pope remarks, " Here follow a tfision, a masque, and 
a prophesy, which interrupt the fable without the least 
necessity, and immeasurably lengthen this act. I think 
it plainly foisted in afterwards for mere show, and ap- 
parently not of Shakespeare." The critics (Schlegel and 
Prof. A. W. Ward are exceptions) are almost unanimously 
of Pope's opinion. But before deciding to condemn these 
lines it will be well to see what the condemnation in- 
volves. When Posthumus wakes he finds on his breast 
a tablet, which he produces and has explained by the 
Soothsayer at the end of the play; now his possession of 
this tablet has to be explained somehow or other, and 
therefore, on the supposition that the masque is an in- 
terpolation, either all the lines referring to the vision and 
the tablet are an interpolation also, or the whole masque. 
the apparition of the ghosts and the descent of Jupiter, 
were intended by Shakespeare to be acted in dumb-show; 
for it would be absurd to suppose that in v. 6. 420, ^tc. 



ACT v. Seame 4. 



NOTES TO CYMBELINE. 



ACT V. Scene 5. 



Posthmntu is detcriblDg any other slamber than that 
which now takea place before the eyea of the aadlence. 
On the other liand, snch masques were suited to the taste 
of the time, and we need not go further than The Tempest 
to find another instance. It must also be noticed tlutt 
this is not the first time tliat we hear of the parents and 
hfothersof Posthumns; tliroughout the play their liistory 
has been known to the audience; in fact it is given, at 
anlBelent length to malce the masque intelligible, in L 1. 
S&-40, where the birth and antecedents of Posthumus are 
detailed. 

George Fletcher, a critic less known than he deserves, 

has an eloquent defence of these lines; he says (Studies 

of Shakespeare, 1847, p. 06): "The suppression [of the 

masqae] deprives us of the solemnly pathetic effect of 

that simple chorus, which is plainly introduced in order, 

1^ recalling the whole tenor of the story, to remind the 

anditor that the hero is much more unfortunate than 

criminal, and to relieve our feelings by announcing an 

approaching deliverance from adversity,— at the same 

time that curiosity is kept alive by the mysterious terms 

in which the prediction is made. The attendant music 

adds to the soothing solemnity of the scene. How beauti* 

ful, too, is the plaintive simplicity of the ballad verses 

recitittg his fortune, chanted by the apparitions of his 

deesased relatives, not one of whom he has seen in life. 

... In fact both the sufferings and the deserts of the 

bcro have now reached their climax; nor could they be 

more sffecUngly recalled to us than by thus evoking the 

ipirits of his kindred, whose deaths had left him, at his 

very birth, a brotherless orphan." 

DC Line 07: ^dk.— Compare Twelfth Night, v. 1. 851: 
And made the most notorious ^rc6 and full. 

fnm the Ang. Sax. geae; we still use colloquially the 
ionu gn^ and gawk. 

307. Line 81: look out— So F. 2; F. 1 has looke, looke ouL 

n line 118: and CLOTS hit 6ea4r.— "Those who have 

kept hmkM must often have observed the habit which 

^ lisve of raising one foot, and whetting the beak 

•pinrt it" (Harting, Ornithology of Shakespeare, p. 31). 

lbs vord dog is said to be a variant of cleg or elaw, but 

BO otlur instance is known. For degt Steevens quotes 

Bea JoDson, Underwoods (p. 250, ed. 1040): 

to save her from the seiae 
Of Vatnre death, and those relentless eiHts. 



Une 134: our faholxo uibrM.— Malone says, "Per- 
hsps this is the only instance in which the word occurs 
vithoot new being prefixed to it," — or understood, for 
HsUhreU quotes from OuUpin, Skialetheia (1508): 

It is Cornelius, that brave gallant youth. 
Who is new printed to this/<iM^/iii/ age. 

Ihe history of the word will be found in Skeat 

Sift Lines 108-170: qf this eontradietion gou thall nov 
he quit—O ths charitg of a penng cord /—So Dyce and the 
QM» editors. The Folio has "OA, of this contradiction 
yoa shall now be quit : Oh the charity," dte.; the first oK 
having been evidently inserted by mistake, in consequence 
of the transcriber's or compositor's eye resting on the 
(DyceX 



811. Lines 171, 172: you have no true debitor abd 

GSEDITOR hut iC— Compare Othello, L 1. 28-32: 

And I . . . must be be-lee'd and calm'd 
By deHtor-aHd-crtditor, this counter<aster; 
He. in good time, must his lieutenant be. 

Rolfe says the words " Debitor and Creditor " formed the 
title of certain old treatises on book-keeping. 

812. Line 173: goxir neck, tir, u.— F. 2 has "necke sir 
is;"F.l"necke(Sis)is." 

818. Line 187: or to take.— Set note on "To satisfy?" in 
line 15 above. 

814. Line 215: mg with hath a preferment in 't— In a 
better state of society I should be better off. 

ACT V. Scene 5. 

816. line 14: tJie LIYSR, heart, and brain of Britain. 
—The liver is the supposed seat of courage, as in Twelfth 
Night, iiL 2. 22: " to put fire in your heart and brimstone 
in your liver;" in i. 1. 87 of the same play it is the seat of 
the passions. 

318. Line 31: With horror, tnadlg dging, like her life.— 
The horror, the torture of the mind, that haunted her 
in her life, and which she had been powerless to dispel, 
haunted her in her death; therefore her death was like 
her life, — corresponded to it 

817. Line 50: For gou a MORTAL MINERAL.— Kolfe 
quotes the late R. Grant White: "There can be little 
doubt that the slow poisons of the 10th and 17th centuries 
were all preparations of white arsenic, the mortal mineral 
still most effective for the poisoner's purposes." 

318. Line 54 : O'ereome gou with her thow; and in time. 
—So F 1; F 2 has "get and in time." Keightley conjec- 
tured, "in due time." 

319. Line 84: that heard her Jlatterg.—So F. 3; F. 1 and 
F. 2 have heare. 

320. Line 96: / know not whg, wherefore.— So the Folio. 
Kowe, followed by most editors, read "why, f>or where- 
fore." 



321. Lines 103, 104: 



I tee a thing 



Bitter to me at death. 

The thing, as some of the commentators note, is the ring 
of Posthumus on lacbimo's finger. 

322. Lines 120-122: 

One tand another 

yot more retemblet that tweet rotg lad 

Who died, and wat Fidele. 

We have had so many instances of condensation in this 
play, the thought outrunning the expression as it were, 
that, in spite of Ingleby, who calls it "impossible," and 
" in the last degree impossible," I do not hesitate to retain 
the reading of the Folio. The meaning is self-evident: 
one grain of sand does not resemble another more than 
he resembles Fidele. Ingleby, who is, however, not with- 
out a suspicion of some imperfection in the text, puts a 
colon at retemblet, and understands "is this he?" after 
Fidele. 

169 



ACT V. Soene 5. 



NOTES TO CYMBELINE. 



ACT V. Soene &. 



323. Line 126: But wt SAW him dead.—%o Rowe in his 
2nd ed. The Folio* have tee. 

324. Line 134: On. tpeak to Aim.— So F. 3; F. 1 and F. 2 
spell " One ipeake to him." 

325. Lines 139, 140: 

Thovt 'It torture me to leave untpoken tkat 
Whiehf to be epoke, unnUd torture thee. 

Instead of torturing me to speak, thon wouldst (if thou 
wert wise, or aware) torture me to prevent my speaking 
that, Ac (Djce). 

826i Lines 153 and ff.: Upon a time, (fee.— Inglehy notes 
that lachimo's narrative rather follows the story of Boc- 
caccio than the circumstances represented in L 4 above. 
His inference is that this scene was written some years 
earlier than the account in i. 4; but, while the inconsis- 
tency is undeniable, this is surely making it prove too 
much. 

827. Lines 163-165: 

/or feature, laming 

The SHRINE of Venue, or etraight-PlQaT Minerva, ' 

Postures beyond brie/ nature. 

For Arine compare Merchant of Venice, ii. 7. 39, 40, 

spealdng of Portia: 

From the four comers of the earth they come, 
To kiss this ihrine, this mortal breathing saint 

Pight is an old form of pitched = fixed, set up. The ladies 
of Italy, says lachimo, put to shame even the statues of 
Venus and Minerva, figures of superhuman beauty though 
these are, and such as Nature, as a rule, cannot attempt 
to rival with her short-lived handiwork. Warburton ap- 
positely quotes Antony and Cleopatra, ii. 2. 205, 206, of 

Cleopatra: 

O'er-picturing that Venus where we see 

The fancy outwork nature. 

32a Line 205: cunning, how I got IT!— So F. 2; F. 1 
omits it. 

329. Line 238: The tune qf Imogen!— IngUhy compares 

iv. 2. 48, where Arviragus says of Imogen's voice: "How 

angel-like he sings!" and Lear, v. 3. 272, 273, of Cordelia: 

Her Yoice was ever soft. 
Gentle, and low.— an excellent thing in woman. 

330. Lines 261-263: 

Why did you throw your uxdded lady FROM youf 
Think that you are upon a ROCK; and now 
Throw me again. 

All the previous commentators take rock in this passage 
to mean cliff or precipice, from which Posthumus may 
throw Imogen if he has the heart to. But it is far more 
natural to take the word, as Ingleby does, to mean a rocky 
eminence such as a man has found refuge on in shipwreck. 
"That Shakespeare meant this is proved by his recurrence 
to the nautical metaphor in line 893 ii\fra: ' Posthi^mus 
anchors upon Imogen.' It is there he has found anchor- 
age for his tempest- toBs'd ship; and with this in mind she 
very touchingly adds to the above—* Now throw me from 
you '—i.e. cast yourself once more adrift" " From you " 
is Rowe's correction; the Folios have "/ro you." 

331. Line 297: I 'M sorry /or thee.—So F. 2; F. 1 has 

170 



" 1 am eorrow for thee "—a reading which I do not discard 
without reluctance. Compare Tempest, v. L 139: " I am 
woe tor % sir." 

382. Lines 310. 311: 

WetaiUdieaU tkrte. 

But 1 will prove thcu two oh 's, Ac 

This is the punctuation of the Folio, the meaning being, 
" we will all three die, if I do not prove." For but in 
this sense compare Two Gentlemen of Verona, L L 86: 
" It shall go hard but im prove it" Two on't is the 
reading of F. 2; F. 1 has two one'e. 

333. Lines 334. 385: 

Your pleaeure woe my MKRS e^ence, my puniAmeni 
Iteel/, and all my treason. 

Mere is Tyrwhitt's conjecture; F. 1 has neere. Malone 
paraphrases: "My crime, my punishment, and all the 
treason that I committed, originated in and were founded 
on, your caprice only." "Your pleasure was my mere 
offence," seems to be a transposition of "your mere 
pleasure was my offence." In iii. 8. 65-68 Belarius tells 
the two princes that the real cause of Cymbeline's anger 
was the false testimony of two villains accusing him of 
confederacy with the Romans. 

334. Line 351: like dew!— So F. 2; misspelt lOrf in F. L 

336. Lines 352-354: 

Thou weep'st, and speaH^st. 

The service that you three have done i» more 

Unlike than this thou UU'st 

Thy tears give testimony to the sincerity of thy relatlim; 
and I have the less reason to be incredulous, because the 
actions which you have done within my knowledge are 
more incredible than the story which you relate (JohnscmX 

336. Unes 363-365: 

Guideriushad 

Upon his neck a mole, a sanguine star; 
It was a mark qf wonder. 

This "mark of wonder" resembles that on Imogen QL 2. 

38,39): 

A mole cinque-spotted, like the orimsoo drops 

r the bottom of a cowslip. 

We have here an unobtrusive note of Shakespeare's sub- 
tlety. The two marks are, as the Clarkes so well express 
it, " twined in beauty with a poet's imagination and a 
naturalist's truth " (Ingleby) 

337. Line 378: When TX were so indeed.— So Rowe in 
his 2nd ed. F. 1 has we. 

838. Line 886: How parted with your BROTHSBSt— So 
Howe in his 2nd ed. F. 1 has Brother. 

339. Line 405: that 80 no6(y /oti^At— So F. 2; F. 1 has no. 

340. Line 407: 

The thankings o/ a king. 
Post / am, sir. 

To mend the metre Pope printed, "'Tie I am sir;" 
Keightley conjectured *"j^a< sir;" Dr. Brinaley Nichol- 
son, " dread sir" or " sir king." But perhaps this is one 
of those cases where a defective syllable is supplied by 
a gesture. 



ACT V. SoeM 6. 



NOTES TO CYMBELINE. 



ACT V. Scene 5. 



HL lines 4S1, 482: 

that I can 

Make no ooiiLlcnoH qf it, 

Skaketpeaie alway* luei eoUeeHon in this leDie of "infer- 
CBoe," the only two other initancei being Hamlet, ir. 6. 

her speech U nothiiif(, 
Yet the uoshapcd use of it doth more 
The hearers to eUttetian ; they eim at ft ; 

and T. 2. 190-801 : " a kind of yeity cMectUm, which carries 
ttem throned and through the most fond and winnowed 
opinions.'* 



and mollis aer 



Stt. Lines 447. 448: 

We term it mnlier. 

Mr. Aldis Wright fnmished Dr. Ingleby with an instance 
if the same fanciful e^rmology of mulier from A World 



of Wonders, by Henry Stephen, translated by B. C. 1607, 
p. 292: " If any shall reply and say, that it is not to be 
wondered that the ancient Latinists neuer me'tioned these 
Etymologies, considering the names were not then in vse; 
I answer that they had no good dexteritie in giuing Ety- 
mologies of Ancient latin words; witness the notation of 
Midier, quati moUit aer." 

343. Line 449: li THIS mott constant tesfe; who, even 
now.— In order to supply an antecedent to who CapeU 
changed thie to thy; but the Soothsayer here turns to 
Posthumus, so that 10^= you who. 

341 Line 469: O/THIS yet scarce cold hatHe.^%0 F. 3; 
F. 1 and F. 2 hare *' Of yet thU," Ac. which Bolfe de- 
fends; he says: " the transposition of yet is so common in 
Shakespeare (cf . Abbott, Sh. Or. { 76) that we are not justi- 
fied in altering the original text." 



WORDS OCCURRING ONLY IN CYMBELINE. 

Non.— The addition of sub. adj. rerb, adv. in brackets immediately after a word indicates that the word is 
used as a substantive, adjective, verb, or adverb, only in the passage or passages cited. 

The compound words marked with an asterisk (* ) are printed as two separate words in F. L 



Act Be. Line 

iceesiible .... iii. 2 84 

Adorer i. 4 74 

**»»-"•••• },S: IZ 

AOnnstion.... i. 4 63 

AtroDt(snb.).. v. 3 87 

After<jre(verb) i. 3 16 

After-inquiry., v. 4 189 

in-dreaded.... iv. 2 271 

All-worthy .... iiL 6 94 

Andirons ii 4 88 

ApproTCTL.... ii 4 25 

Ami (verb)... iv. 2 400 

AneingM.... ii. 4 13 

Aioenrion v. 4 116 

Attemptible... L 4 66 

Amting v. 6 208 

Aatea(adj.).. a 2 22 

BMUde L 2 14 

^Kkwsrds.... T. 8 25 

BMeefflhig(sub.) v. 5 409 

Bondsges. it 4 HI 

*»fa«(verb).. v. 4 147 

*«gn«s Iv. 2 214 

1^-dependencies v. 5 390 

*By.peeping. . . L 6 108 

Csri V. 2 4 

0«aUy ii 8 146 

0»Te(verb).... Iv. 2 138 

Gkve-keeper... iv. 2 296 

1 —to take Into the arms. 
s Lvcfeee, 41S. 
s.obUgatioB. 
eotovadentaiid. 



Act 80. Line 

Century* iv. 2 391 

Chaflless i. 6 178 

Chaliced IL 3 25 

Chamber-hanging V. 5 204 

Chaser v. 3 40 

Chinmey-piece ii. 4 81 

Cinque-spotted ii. 2 38 

Citisen«(adj.).. iv. 2 8 

aement (adj.). v. 4 18 

Cloys^ V. 4 118 

Coiner ii. 6 5 

Comb» ii 1 26 

Commix* iv. 2 55 

Common-kissing iii 4 106 

Company (verb) v. 5 406 

ConfecUon....^ *• * 1* 

(v. 5 246 

Conflners iv. 2 337 

Consequence 10 ii 3 126 

Containing (sub.) v. 5 430 

Cooked \^ « 39 

(v. 4 155 

Corresponding, iii 3 31 

Counterchange v. 5 396 

Covetings. ii 5 25 

Crack" iv. 2 236 

Crare iv. 2 205 

Cravens (verb), iii 4 80 

>»ahandred. ^ — effeminate. 
7 — strokes with a claw. 

• Ofaoock. 

* Lover's Complaint, 9B. 

w — socoeadon; frequently used 
In other eeniea. 

11 --change of Tolce; need elee« 
where in its ordinaxy aanee. 



Act 8c. Line 
Creek" iv. 2 151 

Crystalline.... v. 4 113 
Cutter ii. 4 83 

Daisied iv. 2 396 

Dalmatians.. ..i^ ^ ^^ 
^^^^^ (iii. 7 3 

Definite i 6 43 

Depender. i 5 58 

Depending"., ii 4 91 

Derogate ii 1 48,52 

Derogation ii 1 47 

Destitute".... v. 3 5 

Dieter. iv. 2 51 

Discourtesy ... ii 3 101 

Disedged ia 4 96 

Ditched v. 3 14 

Divineness . . . . iii. 6 44 

Doomed" v. 5 420 

Drug-damned., iii 4 15 

Earth- vexing .. v. 4 42 

EvU-eyed i 1 72 

£xercise"(vb.tr.)v. 4 82 

Exordser iv. 2 276 

Eye-strings.... i 3 17 

Fallen-ofr iii 7 6 

Fan" (verb)... i 6 177 

U — a imall riyer; —a nanow 
p«Mage,0>m. of Errors, iv. 2. as. 

ii-> leaning. 

" — depriTed of ; — f onaken, 
Lacreoe,441. 

" i>dedded: eleewhere need In 
ita ordinary MDiea. 

"x to perform. 17 --to try. 

171 



Act 8c. Line 

Fangled v. 4 134 

Fatherly (adv.) ii. 3 39 

Feated(verb).. i 1 49 

Feeler i 6 101 

Fitment" v. 5 409 

Fore-end iii 3 73 

Foresay iv. 2 146 

Forfeiters iii. 2 38 

Freeness v. 5 421 

*Full-acomed.. ii. 5 16 

Full-hearted... v. 3 7 

Full-winged... ia 3 21 

Furnaces (verb) i 6 06 

*Ooer-back.... i 1 169 

*Oood-conceited ii 3 17 

Half - workers. . ii 5 2 

Handed" ia 2 5 

Handfastso.... i 5 73 

*Hand-in-hand i 4 75 

Hangings".... ia 3 63 

Harebell iv. 2 222 

Hence-going... ia 2 65 

Herblets iv. 2 287 

Horse-hairs.... a 3 33 

Hugeness i 4 157 

Hunt» la 6 90 

lUustriousS*.. i 6 109 



18 » equipment; »daty, Peri- 
cles, iv. 6L 6L 

1* ■• i.e, poieooooe-handed. 

^ — maniage-engagement. 

a— fruit. 

ss —the game killed. 

SS — without luitre; elsewhere 
used » excellent, glodom. 



WORDS PECULIAR TO CYMBELINE. 



AetBc LiiM 

ImpeneTenmt. iv. 1 16 

Importantly... ir. 4 19 

iDcivU V. 6 292 

InsultmeDt iiL 6 144 

Iiregulous .... iv. 2 815 

Jacki U. 1 2 

JackilaTe U. 1 22 

Lack j*^- I »^ 

( T. 8 69 

Law-breaker... iv. 2 76 

*LeapiDg-time. iv. 2 200 

Limb-meal.... iL 4 147 

Low-laid V. 4 103 

Loyally Iv. 8 19 

*Main-top iv. 2 820 

Mapped (verb), iv. 1 2 

Martial* iv. 2 310 

Mary-bads IL 3 26 

•Meeting-place iv. 1 28 

Mercurial iv. 2 310 

Miracle (verb), iv. 2 29 

Misery* v. 3 64 

Mountaineer 4.. iv. 2 71, 
100, 120, 870 

Niceneaa UL 4 168 

Not-fearing.... ii. 4 19 

Nothing-gift., ill. 6 86 

Numbered* (adj.). i. 6 86 

Nurse-like v. 5 88 

Nursery L 1 69 

O'erjoyed v. 6 401 

O'erlaboured . . iL 2 11 

O'er-rate i. 4 41 

O'ervalues L 4 120 

*0ft-time8 i. 6 62 

Openness L 6 88 

Out-craftled... Ml 4 16 

Outlustres. . . . . 1. 4 79 

I In game of bowling; occurs 
elwwhere in othor leniM. 

* ■•reiembllng Man; used 
repeatedly in lU ordinary mums. 

* ■• oontemptiblenen. 

* Tempeit, iii. S. 44. 

i » abundantly prorided. 



Act 8c Line 

Out-peer UL 6 87 

Outprized L 4 88 

OutseU i^ * ^^ 

lUi. 6 74 

Outstood L 6 207 

Out-sweetened iv. 2 224 

Outvenoms iiL 4 87 

Overbuys L 1 146 

Fannonians... "(^ ^ ^* 

Partnered L 6 121 

Pervert* iL 4 161 

Pictured^ v. 4 186 

Pittikins iv. 2 293 

Pointed* L 8 19 

*Poi8onous-tongQediiL2 6 

Preserve* L 6 13 

Prince (verb). . iiL 8 86 

Prince-like v. 6 293 

Pro-consul iiL 7 8 

ProhibiUon.... UL 4 79 

Provider iU. 6 68 

Pudency U. 6 11 

Quarrellous.. . . UL 4 162 

Quick-answered UL 4 161 

Ramps (sub.). . L 6 134 

Rangers U. 8 74 

Receiver L 1 44 

Re-enforce (absoL)v. 2 18 

Rejoicingly.... UL 6 149 

Restyio iiL 6 34 

Revengingly. . . v. 2 4 

Rich-left iv. 2 226 

*Riding-suit . . Ul. 2 78 

Ripely UL 6 22 

Romish L 6 162 

RoweL iv. 4 89 

Ruddock iv. 2 224 

* mm to avert; used eliewbere 
in ordinary wnse. 

7 Son. zxiT. 6. 

* — ihaipened, made thin and 
imall ; frequently need in other 
Mnsee. 

9 — to oondite, to pickle. 

10 Son. c. 9. 

172 



Act So. Line 

Sample L 1 48 

Satiate L 6 48 

Scripturetn... UL 4 88 

Self-danger.... UL 4 149 

Self-expUcaUon UL 4 8 

Self-figured.... iL 8 124 

Sharded UL 8 20 

Short 1* (verb). L 6 200 

Sire (verb). iv. 2 86 

Sky-planted.... v. 4 96 

Slacklyi* L 1 64 

Shiver L 6 106 

Sluggish iv. 2 206 

Smallness L 8 21 

SoUciU(8ub).. U. 8 62 

South-fog iL 3 136 

Speediness iL 4 81 

Spring 1* a 2 47 

Sprited iL 8 144 

Spritelyi* v. 6 428 

Staggers!* v. 6 283 

Staider UL 4 10 

Stepmothers . . L 1 71 

Stomach-qualmediiL 4 193 

Story" (verb).. L 4 84 

Stowage L 6 192 

Straight-pight. v. 6 164 

Strewhigs iv. 2 286 

Styled. iL 8 134 

8ucce«lon.....||;|; J ^^ 

Sunbeams iv. 2 860 

SuppUant (adj.) iU. 7 14 

Supplyment... UL 4 182 

Sur-addiUon. . . L 1 88 

u— writing*. 

1* Pan. Pilgrim* tlO. 

1* Lover's Complaint, 85. 

i« Of a lock. 

1* — spectral; » Uvely, brisk, 
in other places. 

M — vertigo; » bewilderment. 
All's WeU. U. S. 170; - a disease 
in horses. Tuning of Shrew, iii. 
3. M. 

17 Venus and Adoois, lOU; 
Lttcrece, lOt. 

18 « heirs; frequently used in 
its ordinary sense. 



AetflcU 

Tabled L 4 

Tablet v. 4 V 

Tanlingi iv. 4 

rravem-bills.. v. 4 K 

Testinesi iv. 1 

Thief -stolen ... L 6 

Thunderer v. 4 1 

Thunder-master v. 4 

Tomboys L 6 1! 

Tongue 1* (verb) v. 4 V 

True-man. iL S 76,! 

Turbans. UL 8 

Unbar. v. 4 

Uncrossed iXL 8 ! 

*Under-hangman iL 8 1! 

Under-peep iL 2 ! 

UnUngUke .. . . UL 6 

Unlaid iv. 2 f 

Unparagoned..{ J* * 1 

Unpaved iL S : 

Unprizable**.. L 4 \ 

Unscalable.... UL 1 ! 

Unseduced.... L 4 1! 

Unspealdng.... v. 6 1! 

Unspoken v. 6 L 

Unsunned iL 6 

Untendered.. . . iU. 1 

Up-cast U. 1 

Vaulted L 6 : 

VUrgln-Uke.... UL 2 ! 

Wench-like... iv. 2 2] 

Whereunto....|J|j| 1 ^I 

Winter-ground iv. 2 2! 

Whiteriy UL 4 ! 

Wonderfully.. L 4 i 

Wood-leaves . . iv. 2 81 

Workmanship*! U. 4 : 

Wrying v. 1 

Zephyrs iv. 2 li 

1* » to speak; » to speak c 
Measure, iv. 4. M. 
*o — invaluable. 
*1 — Yen. and Adon. SSI, TSi 



THE TEMPEST. 



INTRODUCTION BY RICHARD GARNETT. 

NOTES BY 

ARTHUR SYMONS. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS 

Aloxso, King of Naples. 

Ferdinand, his son. 

Sebastian, brother to Alonso. 

Prospero, the rightful Duke of Milan. 

Antonio, his brother, the usurping Duke of Milan. 

GoNZALO, an honest old counsellor. 

Adrian, 1 , , 
_ Moras. 

Francisco, J 

Trinculo, a jester. 

Stephano, a drunken butler. 

Master of a ship, Boatswain, and Mariners. 

Caliban, a saMige and deformed slave. 

Miranda, daughter to Prospero. 

Ariel, an airy spirit. 

Iris, 

Ceres, 

Juno, ) presented by spirit& 

Nymphs, 

Reapers, 

Other Spirits attending on Prospero. 



Scene — On board a ship at sea; afterwards various parts of an island. 



Historic Period: Indefinite. 



TIME OF ACTION. 
One day. 



174 



THE TEMPEST. 



INTRODUCTION. 



LITERARY HISTORY. 



The Tempest waa printed for the first time 
in the Folio of 1623, and occupies the first 
place in that collection. The text is far from 
accurate. 

The only authentic record of any previous 
performance is the notice discovered by Malone, 
in Vertue's MSS., of the play having been acted* 
at court in February, 1613, on occasion of the 
marriage of the Princess Elizabeth to Fred- 
erick, Elector Palatine. We shall shortly find 
good reason to conclude that this was also the 
date of composition. That this date was at 
*11 events not earlier than 1603 is evident from 
the fact that the leading features of Gron- 
zalo's commonwealth (act iL sc. 1) are de- 
rived from Florio's translation of Montaigne, 
published in tliat year. This entirely over- 
throws Mr. Hunter's theory, advanced in a 
special essay, that the date of composition was 
1596. Elze's notion that it was 1604 avoids 
^^is particular objection, but has no ground- 
work except this critic's fixed idea that the 
**«t ten or twelve years of Shakespeare's life 
''•'ere spent in idleness. If this is not ad- 
*>iitt€d, the internal evidence of the versifica- 
tion, clearly establishing that the play belongs 
^ the last group of Sliakespeare's creations, 
pJ^ves also that it must have been written 
*fter 1608 at all events. The metrical test is 
<luite decisive on this point, the proportion of 
<iouWe endings being, roughly speaking, 33 
P^f cent, against 25 per cent in Antony and 
Cleopatra (1608), and 12 per cent in As You 
Like It (1599). The value of such tests may 
^ and has been, exaggerated; but there can 
'* no doubt that an approximation to Fletcher's 
^tem of versification in a Shakespearian play 
^ early date, would be as great a prodigy as 
the occurrence of a mammal in the Silurian 
epoch. 



Apart from the internal evidence of the 
metre, another kind of internal evidence 
proves that the play could not have been 
written before 1610 at the earliest. In act 1, 
sc. 2, Ariel speaks of 

the deep nook, where once 
Thou call'dst mo up at midnight to fetch dew 
From the still-vex'd Bermoothes. 

In May, 1609, the fleet of Sir George 
Somers, bound for Virginia, wa.s scattered by 
a tem[)est in mid-ocean, and one of the ships, 
driven out of her course, was wrecked on the 
Bermudas, thence sometimes called the Somers 
or Summer Islands. The exhausted sailors 
had given up all hope, when the vessel was 
found to be " jammed in between two rocks," 
in just such a nook as that described by Ariel 
They spent nine months on the island; and 
having at length refitted their ship, arrived 
safely in Virginia. A narrative of their ad- 
ventures was published in 1610 by Sylvester 
Jourdan, under the title of " A Discovery of 
the Bermudas, otherwise called The Isle of 
Devils." Malone first pointed out the connec- 
tion of this narrative with The Tempest, and 
it seems marvellous that any one should have 
disagreed with him. The scene of the drama, 
as we shall see, was not intended to be laid in 
the Bermudas, and Shakespeare could not, 
therefore, follow the pamphlet w^ith perfect 
exactness. But there can, as Hudson ex- 
presses it, "be no rational doubt" that he 
derived hints from Jounlan, and he must 
accordingly have had the latter's pamphlet 
before him. The only question is, what in- 
terval ela{)sed ere he used it? The point was 
at one time thought to have been decided by 
an entry in the record of the Master of the 
Revels of a jHirfomiance of The Tempest at 
Whitehall in 1611. But this is a forgery. 
We believe it to \ye demonstrable that Ver- 

175 



THE TEMPEST. 



tue's mention of its performance at court, on 
occasion of the Princess Elizabeth's marriage, 
refers to its first representation anywhere, and 
indicates the date of composition also. We 
proceed to state the reasons for this convic- 
tion, first remarking that, if written for pri- 
vate representation in 1613, it had still found 
its way to the public stage by 1614, as proved 
by Ben Jonson's peevish allusion in *' Bartho- 
lomew Fair" (1614) to "servant- monsters," 
and " those that beget tempesU and such-like 
drolleries." This is the only literary reference 
to The Tempest prior to its publication in 
1623. 

The most likely reason why the editors of 
the first Folio placed The Tempest at the head 
of Shakespeare's works is their perception that 
his earliest comedies formed an unfitting 
portal to such a temple. It certainly indicates 
no idea on their part that it was a work of 
early date. Tradition, on the contrary', has 
always regarded it as his last work, appealing 
to Prospero's declaration of his purpose to 
break and bury his staff, and drown his book 
"deeper than did ever plummet sound." 
Shakespeare certainly could not have taken 
leave of the stage in more majestic or appro- 
priate language, but the speech may well have 
begotten the tradition. We believe, however, 
that tradition is substantially though not li- 
terally right, and that the most recent editors 
and critics have placed the play too early by 
two or three years. With one consent they 
date it at 1610 or 1611, for no other reason 
than that the proportion of lines with double 
endings is slightly less than in The Winter's 
Tale. This is indeed to ride a hobby to death, 
and discredit a sound axiom. That Shake- 
S[)eare's career as a dramatic artist is divided 
into well-marked periods by the peculiarities 
of his metre is true, and most important to be 
known; but it by no means follows that each 
successive play signalized a further develop- 
ment of the peculiarity. In the case of The 
Tempest, unless we greatly err, the date of 
the first representation can be fixed with 
absolute confidence at an early day in Fe- 
bruarj', 1613, and the recognition of this fact 
gives the key to the drama, and reveals 
it as anything rather than an aimless sport 

176 



of fancy. We contend with Tieck that the 
piece was written for representation on occa- 
sion of the marriage of James the First's 
daughter. Princess Elizabeth, to Frederick, 
Elector Palatine, and that the chief human 
personages represent James himself and the 
princely bride and bridegroom. We have 
here only room for a brief abstract of the 
arguments advanced by us in the Universal 
Review for April, 1889. 

The Tempest, in the first place, has all the 
marks of a play originally written for private 
representation before a courtly audience. It 
is shorter by a third than an average play of 
Shakespeare's. It has scarcely any change of 
costume or change of scene. It has two ela- 
Jx>rate masques, of the description then habi- 
tually presented before persons of distinction 
on great occasions. The most important of 
these, the nuptial masque of Juno, Ceres, and 
Iris in the fourth act, would be an absolute 
impertinence on any other theory than that 
it formed part of a play represented on occa- 
sion of a marriage. Yet it is no interpolation 
to adapt the play to such a purpose, for, sup- 
posing it removed, the greater part of the 
fourth act disappears with it; and the noblest 
passage in the dnuna,*' the cloud-capp'd towers,*^ 
&c., grows out of it, and could not have been 
written if it had not existed. When, in addi- 
tion to these indications that The Tempest must 
have been composed for private representa- 
tion as a nuptial drama, we find, as we do 
from Vertue, that it actually was represented 
at the marriage of the Princess Elizabeth tc^ 
the Elector Palatine, it is fair to claim tha^ 
the argument is effectually clenched, and th&%. 
no reasonable doubt can remain. For, if th^ 
piece was not written for performance on thiB 
occasion, it must have been the revival of a 
play written for performance on some other 
similar occasion. We have seen, however, tbat 
it belongs to the latest period of Shakespeare'* 
art, and cannot have been conceived bef o^ 
the narrative of the shipwrecked sailors, -^^^^ 
arrived in Virginia about February, 1610, 1^ 
been published in England. No inciden*' ^ 
evoke such a drama had occurred between 1 ^^^ 
and the end of 1612, when the betrothal t^* 
place, and then the circumstances exaX?^v 



INTRODUCTION. 



fitted such a play as The Tempest. A foreign 
prince from beyond the seas espouses an 
island princess who has never left her home, 
the union being brought about by the wis- 
dom of her sage father, potent in all lawful 
arts, but the inexorable enemy of witchcraft, 
precisely the character which James the First 
supported in his own estimation. Prospero is 
the idealization of James, not without strokes 
of delicate irony, showing that while Shake- 
speare sincerely honoured what was admir- 
able in the king, he sees over him and through 
him. His art and his judgment are still more 
hrightly displayed in another particular. The 
marriagefollowed close upon a funeral Prince 
Henry had died in the preceding November; 
the calamity could not be left out of sight, 
and yet the nuptial joy must not be darkened. 
With exquisite skill Shakespeare images forth 
the bereavement in the supposed death of 
Ferdinand, which occupies so important a 
place in The Tempest. James's grief is thus 
not ignored, but is transferred from himself 
to his enemy; the sense of loss mingles almost 
imperceptibly with the general cheerfulness; 
and at last the childless Prospero gains a son 
in Ferdinand, as James was regaining one in 
Frederick. If this interpretation is correct, 
the play gains greatly in significance,' and 
Shakespeare appears not only as the consum- 
Ooate poet, but as the accomplished courtier 
^nd well-bred man of the world. Our aston- 
ishment at his genius must be further height- 
ened, were it possible, by the revelation of the 
l^riefnesB of the time required for the com- 
position 'and production of so wonderful a 
'^'ork. The supposed death of Ferdinand is 
^o central an incident that the play cannot 
liave been planned prior to the death of Prince 
Henry on November 6, 1612, while it cannot 
liave been represented later than the celebra- 
tion of the marriage on February 14 following. 
All must have been done within three months 
•.t the utmost — probably considerably less. 

We therefore feel justified in assigning The 
Tempest to the year 1613, thus making it at 
least two years posterior to The Winter's Tale. 
^^e are thus warranted in believing, if we 
please, that Shakespeare really did bid fare- 
well to the stage in the person of Prospera 

VOL. VII. 



One or two of his plays may possibly be later 
still; but the only one of which this can be 
positively asserted — Henry the Eighth — is 
but in part his. 

Only one possible original of the plot of The 
Tempest has hitherto been pointed out, and it 
is uncertain whether Shakespeare and his sup- 
posed model did not derive their theme from 
a common source. The afl&nity, nevertheless, 
between the plot of his drama and that 
of Jacob Ayrer's Fair Sidea is undeniable. 
The German play has been translated into 
English by Mr. Albert Cohn, in his " Shake- 
speare in Germany." In it Ludolph, like Pros- 
pero a banished prince and benevolent magi- 
cian, is introduced dwelling in a forest with 
his daughter Sidea and a familiar spirit. Bun- 
cifaL The son of the iisurper falls into his 
hands, like Ferdinand; is set, like Ferdinand, 
to carry logs; is, like Ferdinand, pitied by the 
magician's daughter; and, like him, finally 
united to her. It is impossible that Ayrer 
should be the borrower, as he died in 1605. 
It is equally certain that Shakespeare did not 
read German; but an account of Ayrer's piece 
may have been brought him by one of the 
English actors, who in that age were continu- 
ally traversing Germany, or both plays may 
have been founded upon some ballad or chap- 
book yet to be discovered. A ballad entitled 
The Inchanted Island, which has been adduced 
as the source of the plot, is evidently a much 
later composition than the play, and founded 
upon it. 

The scene of the action must be conceived 
to be an imaginary island in the Mediter- 
ranean, which the reader may locate anywhere 
he pleases between Tunis and Naples, the 
starting-point and terminus of Alonso's inter- 
rupted voyage. There is not the smallest rea- 
son for identifying it, as Mr. Hunter de- 
mands, with *Lampedu8a; and it would be 
perfectly irrational, with Qialmers and other 
commentators, to make Ariel fetch dew from 
Bermuda to Bermuda. The imagination which 
created Ariel and Caliban was assuredly equal 
to summoning an island from the deep, and 
remanding it thither when its purpose was 

fulfilled: 

These let us vish away. 

177 178 



THE TEMPEST. 



The surpassing imaginatioii of The Tempest 
has naturally recommended it to artists of 
creative power, especially Fuseli in last century 
and Poole in this. Three designs for it, with 
others illustrative of Macbeth and King John, 
were the only fruits of Kaulbach's ambitious 
undertaking of a complete pictorial illustra- 
tion of Shakespeare. They are of the highest 
merit The various adaptations and imita- 
tions will fall under another head, but a word 
must be said here on a remarkable companion 
drama, M. Benan's Caliban. In this brilliant 
satire Caliban, transferred with his master to 
Milan, is represented as the type of the new 
democracy. By playing on the baser passions 
of the multitude he overthrows culture and 
refinement personified in Prospero; but on 
obtaining the throne finds that he has need 
of them, and ends by becoming a very respect- 
able specimen of spurious civilization. — r. o. 

STAGE HISTORY. 

Some faint light is cast upon the early stage 
history of The Tempest. The play, though it 
stands foremost in the Folio, is held one of the 
latest works of its author. Malone's ascrip- 
tion of the date to a period subsequent to the 
appearance of Jourdan's Discovery of the Bar- 
mvdas, otherwise called the He of Divels, 4to, 

1610, is generally accepted; and Mr. Fleay is 
not alone in assuming The Tempest to be the 
last of Shakespeare's plays in the order of 
composition. October to November, 1610, is, 
Mr. Fleay supposes, the date of its first ap- 
pearance (Chronicle History, 249). In the 
Booke of the Bevels, extending from 31st Oct. 

1611, to 1st Nov. 1612, a manuscript in the 
Audit Office, is a page containing the follow- 
ing entry: " By the Kinges players Hallomas 
night was presented at Whithall before the 
Kings Majestie a play called the Tempest. — 
The Kings players the 5th of November, a 
play called the Winter Nightes Tayle." The 
authenticity of this entry has been disputed 
by palaeographers. It is accepted, however, 
by Collier (Hist, of Dram. Poesy, i. 369X a 
somewhat dubious authority, and by Halli- 
well-Phillipps (Outlines of the Life of Shake- 
speare, i. 214). It concurs with, if it is not sup- 
ported by, a statement of Malone, who, speak- 

178 



ing of The Tempest in the account of the inci- 
dents, says: '* I know that it had a being and 
a name in the autumn of 1611," words which 
draw from Halliwell-PhiUipps the observa- 
tion, "he was not the kind of critic to use these 
decisive words unless he had poflsessed con- 
temporary evidence of the fact.'' SupposiDg 
the authority for this performance of lat Nov. 
1611, to be inadequate, Malone points out, on 
the authority of the MSS. of Mr. Vertue, " that 
the Tempest was acted by John Hemminge 
and the rest of the Kings company, before 
Prince Charles, the Lady Elizabeth, and the 
Prince Palatine Elector in the beginning of 
the year 1613 " (Shakespeare, by Boswell, iL 
464; Collier, Hist of Dram. Poetry, L 369). 

Neither of these representations was, it may 
be assumed, the first. The Tempest was pro- 
bably given at an earlier date at the Black- 
f nai^ Theatre. Dryden, in his preface (dated 
Dec 1, 1669) to The Tempest, or the Enchanted 
Island, of which more anon, says: *^The Play 
itself had previously been acted with success 
in the Black-Fryers." The music to some of 
the lyrics was written by Bobert Johnson, one 
of the royal musicians, ** for the lutes," a fact 
which, with the introduction of the masque, 
emboldens Halliwell-PhiUipps to conjecture 
that the play "was originally written with a 
view to its production before the court" (Out- 
lines, iL 309). Halliwell-Phillipps also thinks 
it '* not at all improbable that the conspicuous 
position assigned to this comedy in the First 
Folio is a testimony to its popularity.'' That 
it was popular is proved by the imitations of 
portions of its story by Fletcher, Suckling, and 
succeeding writers. 

After these appetiidng but unsatisfactory 
glimpses, Shakespeare's Tempest recedes for a 
century and a half from observation. 

On 7th November, 1667, Pepys witnessed 
at Lincolns Inn Fields "The Tempest, an old 
play of Shakespeare's, acted, I hear, the first 
day." It was acted in presence of the king 
and the court, and was, continues Pepys, " the 
most innocent play that ever I saw; and a 
curious piece of musique in an echo of half 
sentences, the echo repeating the former half, 
while the man goes on to the latter, which is 
mighty pretty. The play has no great wit. 



INTRODUCTION. 



but yet good above ordinary plays." This, it 
is needless to say, is the alteration of Shake- 
speare byDryden and D* Avenant, known as The 
Tempest, or the Enchanted Island, 1670, 4to. 
Of all the indignities to which Shakespeare 
was subjected this is, in some respects, the 
worst Nothing in The Tempest, as subse- 
quent experience has shown, called for alterar 
tion. The adapters have, however, vulgarized 
some of the most exquisite of human creations, 
have supplied Caliban with a female counter- 
part and sister in Sycorax, and Miranda with 
a sister who, like herself, has never seen a 
man, have coupled Ariel with Milcha, and 
have introduced Hippolyto, a rightful heir to 
the dukedom of Mantua, who has never seen 
a woman. Alterations do not end here; but 
there is no need to dwell upon the absiuxii- 
ties or abominations of a play that is easily 
accessible. Dryden boasts of his share in this 
work, and declares in the preface that from 
the first moment the scheme was confided to 
him by D'Avenant he " never writ anything 
with more delight" He is careful, however, 
to state that the counterpart to Shakespeare's 
plot, namely, the conception of a man who 
had never seen a woman, was due to D'Aven- 
ant The entire preface, a sustained eulogy 
of lyAvenant, who at this time was dead, 
leaves room for no suspicion of interested 
motives. Following the preface comes the 
rhymed prologue, which is devoted to the praise 
of Shakespeare, and concludes: 

Bat Shakespear's nm^c could not copy'd be. 
Within that circle none durst walk but he. 

The compliment in the last line is one of the 
happiest and most ingenious ever paid. Strange 
that the disciple who paid it should dare him- 
self to don the robes of the necromancer and 
imitate his art. 

Of the first representation of this work, we 
know that Cave Underbill was the Trinculo, 
since it is so stated at a subsequent revival 
(Oenest, Account of the English Stage, ii. 262). 
All else that is known is what is told in the 
preface, that the directors of the pageant 

are forc'd to employ 
One of our women to present a boy. 



This suggests that Hippolyto was then, as 
generally in subsequent performances, taken 
by a woman. It is probable that some at- 
tempt at scenic effect was made at the first 
production of The Tempest, or the Enchanted 
Island. When next seen at Dorset Gardens, 
in 1673, it was converted into what was theA 
called an opera. Downes has passed with slight 
mention the previous performances of The 
Tempest, simply stating in a note that Macbeth, 
King Lear, and The Tempest were acted in 
Lincoln's Inn Fields, and adding that The Tem- 
pest was altered by Sir William D'Avenant 
and Mr. Dryden before it was made into an 
opera. Not much more expansive is he concern- 
ing the revival. His words with their curious 
orthography and punctuation are: "The Year 
after in 1673. The Tempest or the Inchanted 
Island made into an Opera by Mr. Skadwell^ 
having all New in it; as Scenes, Machines: 
particularly one scene Painted with Myriads 
of Ariel Spirits; and another flying away, 
with a Table Fumisht out with Fruits, Sweet 
meats and all sorts of Viands; just when 
Duke Trincido (si/)) and his Companions' were 
going to Dinner; all was things perform'd in 
it so Admirably well, that not any succeeding 
Opera got more Money" (Roscius Anglicanus, 
p. 35). Once more we are in ignorance as to 
the cast. The music was by Purcell. Con- 
cerning a third representation given at Lin- 
cobi's Inn Fields, 13th Oct 1702, all that is 
known is that Cave Underbill repeated Duke 
Trinculo. Underbill, who retired from the 
theatre the following year, acted till he was 
past eighty. So excellent was he " in the |)art 
of Trinculo in The Tempest that he was 
called Prince Trinculo" (Davies, Dram. Misc. iii. 
135). Davies is in error. It is Duke Trin- 
culo that Underbill was called. In Tom Brown's 
clever and not very delicate Letters from the 
Dead to the Living are letters from Tony 
Lee to C — ve U — rh — 1, and from C — ve 
U — rh — 1 to Tony Lee, from which Davies has 
taken carelessly his information. In these 
Underbill speaks of himself as Duke Trinculo 
the comedian (Works of Tho. Brown, ii. 141- 
147, ed. 1707). Duke is the title which Trin- 
culo takes in Dryden's play. 
Some contribution to a cast of The Tempest 

179 



THE TEMPEST. 



is furnished 4ih June, 1714, when the play was 
produced at Drury Lane, with Powell as 
Prospero, Johnson as Caliban, Bullock as 
Trinculo, Ryan as Ferdinand, Mrs. Mountfort 
as Hippolyto, and Mrs. Santlow as Dorinda. 
MiraiKla and Ariel are not even named. At 
the same house, on 2nd Jan. 1729, Kitty Eaftor, 
subsequently immortal as Mrs. Cliye, played 
Dorinda. She was then at the outset of her 
career in London, and was in her eighteenth 
year. Mrs. Gibber, another delightful actress, 
was Hippolyto. Mills was Prospero, Wilks 
Ferdinand, Shepherd Stephano, Miller Trin- 
calo, Norris Ventoso, Harper Mustacho. Miss 
Robinson, jun., Ariel, and Mrs. Booth Mir- 
anda. Caliban is omitted. This was an ex- 
cellent cast, but unfortunately no details con- 
cerning the performance are traceable. 

To the many iniquities of the same class of 
Garrick must be added the fact that Dryden 
and D'Avenant's alteration of The Tempest 
was given by him at Drury Lane on 26th Dec. 
1747. The principal features in the cast are 
the Hippolyto of Peg WoflSngton, the Ariel of 
Kitty Clive, and the Trinculo of Macklin. 
Berry was Prospero, Lee Ferdinand, I. Sparks 
Caliban, Mrs. Green Dorinda, and Mrs. Mo- 
zeen Miiunda. With this performance a few 
times repeated the adaptation of Dryden and 
D'Avenant, in .its original shape, disappears. 
Previous to this, on 31st Jan. 1746, what is 
called Shakespeare's Tempest, "never acted 
there before," had been produced at Drury 
Lane. At this period the theatres were almost 
deserted, in consequence of the rising in Scot- 
land and the north. The following is the first 
recorded cast of Shakespeare's play: 



Prwpero 


= L. Sparks. 


Ferdinand 


= Delane. 


Caliban 


= I. Sparks. 


Stephano 


= Macklin. 


Trinculo 


= Barrington. 


Anthonio 


= Groodfellow. 


Alonzo 


= Bridges. 


Gonzalo 


= Berry. 


Boatswain 


= Blakes. 


Miranda 


= Miss Edwards 


Ariel 


= Mrs. Clive. 



A musical entertainment, called Neptune and 
Amphitrite, was played at the conclusion, ap- 

180 



parently as a species of masque. This was 
very proliably taken from D'Avenant and 
Diyden. Lacy, the manager of Druiy Lane, 
who was the first to revive Shakespeare ac- 
cording to the original text, though not with- 
out additions, had applied, upon the descent 
of the Highlanders upon Derby, to raise two 
hundred men for the defence of the person 
and government of the king. lathis body the 
whole company of Drury Lane was to be 
engaged. 

When next The Tempest was revived by 
Garrick at Drury Lane, 11th Feb. 1756, it was 
as an opera, the authorship of which, on not 
quite convincing evidence, has been ascribed 
to Garrick. Prospero, a singing chanicter, 
was taken by Beard. A species of inter- 
lude, spoken by Havard as an actor and 
Yates as a critic, appears in the St James's 
Magazine, i. 144. The music to The Tempest 
is by John Christopher Smith, who was the 
amanuensis of HandeL Two songs in this, 
"Full fathom five" and "The owl is abroad," 
remained favourites. Into this version are 
interpolated, from Dryden's T^nrannick Love, 
the lines: 

Merry, merry, merry, we sail from the east, 
Half tippled, at a rainbow feast. 

Theophilus Gibber ascribes the adaptation to 
Garrick. He says, speaking of Garrick: 
"Were Shaketpeat^i Ghost to rise, would he 
not frown Indignation on this Pilfering Pedlar 
in Poetry, . . . who thus shamefully mangles, 
mutilates, and emasculates his Plays? The 
Midsummer Nighfs Dream has been minc'd 
and fricaseed into an indigested and uncon- 
nected Thing called The Fairies. . . , The 
Winter's Tale mammoc'd into a Droll; The 
Taming of the Shrew made a Farce of ; . . . 
and 7%<? 7Vm/>e«^ castrated into an Opera. . . . 
oh what an agreeable Lullaby might it have 
prov'd to our Beaus and Belles to have heard 
Caliban^ Sycorax^ and one of the Devils trill- 
ing of Trios" (Theophilus Gibber to David 
Garrick, Esq., with Dissertations on Theatri- 
cal Subjects, 1759, p. 36). The plays men- 
tioned were all published anonymously ; but 
Gibber's charge was not denied, and Garrick, 
it is to be feared, cannot be acquitted of the 



INTRODUCTION. 



responsibility. Gibber claims to have himself 
played in The Tempest (of Dryden) Ventoso, 
Mustacho, and Trinculo. Of the performances, 
however, no record is preserved. 

When next Garrick produced The Tempest 
at Drury Lane, 20th Oct 1757, Shakespeare's 
version was at length adopted. Mossop was 
then the Prospero, Holland Ferdinand, Berry 
Caliban, Woodward Stephano, Yates Trin- 
culo, and Miss Pritchard Miranda, About 
1760, in pursuit of the ruinous system of 
rivalry which distinguished them, the two 
theatres in Dublin, Crow Street and Smock 
Alley, produced The Tempest at the same 
time. The following is the cast at the two 

houses: 

Crow street. Smock Alley. 

Prospero Fleetwood Mossop. 

Stephano Woodwaril Brown. 

Alonzo Adcock So wdon. 

Sebastian Rnipe Heaphy. 

Antonio Morris Heatton. 

Gonxalo Mynitt (West) Digges. 

Trinculo Griffith. 

Caliban Glover Sparks. 

Ariel Mrs. Glover.... Miss Young. 

Miranda Miss Macartney. 

Hitchcock says, "they continued playing it 
till both lost money by it;" and adds, "with 
respect to scenery, machinery, and decorations. 
Crow Street certainly was superior. Carver 
was then one of the first scene painters in 
Europe; Mr. Messink the first machinist ever 
known in this kingdom; and Finny, their 
carpenter, had infinite merit" (Hist. View of 
the Irish Stage, ii. 63, 64). 

Edinburgh had been before Dublin in pro- 
ducing The Tempest, but it was in Dryden^s 
version. The Caledonian Mercury of 27th De- 
cember, 1733, reports: "Tester night, at the 
Edinburgh Theatre, to the fullest audience 
that has been for some considerable time, was 
acted the Tempest, or hvchaiUed Island, with 
universal applause, every part, and even what 
required machinery, being performed in great 
order." No cast is preserved. It is probable 
that Barret played Prospero, Wycomb Trin- 
culo, and Mrs. Miller Hippolito. This is, 
however, mere conjecture. On March 14, 
1750, it was revived, "with all the original 
music composed by the late Mr. Purcel, and 



all other decorations proper to the play.** 
Salmon was Trinculo, Mrs. Salmon Ariel, 
Conyers Neptune, and Mrs.Hinde Amphitrite. 
Conyers was also " the Grand Singing Devil" 
(Dibdin, Edinburgh Stage, 65). At the out- 
set of Digges's management of the Edinburgh 
theatre, December, 1756, the operatic version, 
with Smith's music, all but the recitative, was 
performed. The announcement states that 
" a principal scene of the Tempest, rais'd by 
magic, is new painted for the occasion, with a 
perspective representation of the ship, rocks, 
ocean, &c. The stage will be entirely darkened 
for the representation of the storm; the candles 
therefore cannot be lighted till after the com- 
mencement of the first act." Mrs. Hopkins 
was Miranda, Mrs. Ward Dorinda, and Mrs. 
Love Ariel Heyman was Prospero, Love 
Trinculo, Younger Ferdinand, Stamper Hypo- 
lito {sic) and Caliban (with new song in 
character), and Sadler Milcha (ib. 93, 94). 

The first representation of Shakespeare's 
Tempest at Co vent Garden took place 27th Dec. 
1776, with Hull as Prospero, Mattocks as 
Ferdinand, Wilson as Stephano, Quick as 
Trinculo, Dunstall as Caliban, Miss Brown as 
Miranda, and Mrs. Farrel as Ariel It was 
acted six times. Woodward being on one occa- 
sion, if not more, substituted for Wilson as 
Stephano. On the 4th of January following 
The Tempest was revived at Drury Lane. 
This was probably an arrangement of The 
Tempest by R. B. Sheridan, with music by 
Thomas Linley, jun., of which the songs only 
were printed, 8vo, 1777. Bensley was Pros- 
pero, Vernon Ferdinand, Moody Stephano, 
Baddeley Trinculo, J. Aikin Gonzalo, and 
Bannister Caliban. Ariel was announced as 
by a young lady (Miss Field), and Miranda 
also by a young lady (Mrs. Cuyler). When 
nine years later, at Drury Lane, 7th March, 
1786, it was once more revived, the represen- 
tatives of Prospero, Caliban, Stephano, Gron- 
zalo, and Ariel were the same — a rather re- 
markable fact Miss Field, however, having 
married, appeared as Mrs. Forster. Barry- 
more was Ferdinand, and Mrs. Crouch Ariel 

A new version of The Tempest, by John 
Philip Kemble, was produced at Drury Lane 
1 3th Oct 1789. It was announced as Shake- 

181 



THE TEMPEST. 



speare's, but the transparent inaccuracy is be- 
trayed in the names of the characters. Kemble 
restored a good deal of Shakespeare, but kept 
far too much of Drydeu. In some quarters, 
indeed, the play was spoken of as Dryden's. 
The cast was — 



Prospero = 

Ferdinand = 

Caliban = 

Stephano = 

Trinculo = 

Alonzo = 

Gonzalez = 

Antonio = 
Hyppolito(«^ic) 

Ariel = 

Miranda = 

Dorinda = 



Bensley. 
KeUy. 
Williames. 
Moody. 
Baddeley. 
Packer. 
J. Aikin. 
Phillimore. 
Mrs. GroodalL 
Miss Romanzini. 
Mrs. Crouch. 
Miss Farren. 



From Young's Memoirs of Mrs. Crouch, we 
learn that Miss Farren and Mrs. Crouch were 
dressed ^*in white ornamented with spotted 
furs; coral beads adorned their heads, necks, 
and arms. They looked beautiful, and ren- 
dered the characters uncommonly interesting" 
(i. 73, 74). Mrs. Goodall had a fine figure in 
male attire, Miss Komanzini sang **with 
great taste," and Mr. Kelly ** evinced feeling 
and judgment throughout" (ibid.). The re- 
lative shares of Shakespeare and Dryden in 
the production and in Kemble's revised ver- 
sion are traced by Grenest (Account of the 
Stage, vL 675-578). The first version was 
printed in 8vo, 1789, and the second in 8vo, 
1806 and 1807. On 22nd Feb. 1797, the earlier 
version of Kemble was revised at Druiy Lane, 
with Miss Farren and Mrs. Crouch in their 
old characters, Mrs. Powell as Hippolito, Pal- 
mer as Prospero, Charles Kemble as Ferdi- 
nand, Bannister as Caliban, Bannister, jun., 
as Stephano, and Suett as Trinculo. Little 
interest was inspired by the performance. 
When revised 9th Dec. of the same year Miss 
De Camp was Ariel, Miss Miller Dorinda, and 
Mrs. Crouch Miranda. On May 4th, 1789, at 
the same house, Powell was Prospero, Sedg- 
wick Caliban, Miss De Camp Hippolito, and 
Mrs. Jordan Dorinda. 

Kemble's second version of The Tempest 
was produced at Covent Garden 8th Dec 
1806, Kemble playing Prospero. The cast 
also included — 

182 



Ferdinand = Charles Kembla 
Gonzalo = Murray. 
Caliban = Emery. 
Stephano = Munden. 
Trinculo = Fawcett. 
Hippolito = Miss Logan. 
Miranda = Miss Brunton. 
Dorinda = Mrs. C. Kemble. 
Ariel = Miss Meadows (her first appear^ 

ance on any stage). 

This revival was successful, being acted twenty- 
seven times. It is pleasant, however, to hear 
that some of the introductions from Dryden 
were hissed by the public, and were in conse- 
quence withdrawn. Kemble's Prospero was 
popular in spite of the drawbacks of his pro- 
nunciation. Concerning it Leigh Hunt says: 
"The character of Prosperocould not have been 
sustained by any one actor on the stage with 
so much effect as by Mr. Kemble. The ma- 
jestic presence and dignity of the princely en- 
chanter, conscious of his virtue, his wrongs, 
and his supernatural power, were displayed 
with an undeviating spirit, with that proud 
composure which seems a peculiar property 
of this actor " (Critical Essays, Appendix, p. 
33). His perfectly accurate, if possibly pe- 
dantic, pronunciation of aches as aitches in 
the lines — 

1 11 rack thee with old cramps. 
Fill all thy bones with iiches, make thee 



incurred much condenmation, and was 
verely censured by Leigh Hunt. Anxiety 
to hear it, and express disapproval of it, is 
said to have helped to fill the theatre, and 
The Tempest was consequently acted more 
frequently than it would otherwise have been. 
Cooke one night was substituted for Kemble 
in the part Public curiosity was agog to 
know how he would treat the word. Cooke 
rather cleverly omitted the line. Genest also 
condemns strongly Kemble's obstinacy, and 
says he ** might have retained his own opinion 
in private conversation, but as an actor it was 
his duty to conform to the sense of the pub- 
lic" (Account of the Stage, viiL 47X an opinion 
we venture to regard as hereticaL Of Miss 
Meadow^s, the daughter of a well-known actor, 
Leigh Hunt speaks in terms of praise, though 
he confesses to not making sufficient allow- 



INTRODUCTION. 



ance " for that look of corporeality 'which an 
actress, however light her motions may be, 
cannot avoid in the representation of a being 
who is air itself" (ib. Appendix, 32). Emery's 
Caliban he declares " one of the best pieces of 
acting we have ever seen. He conceived with 
iniinite vigour that union of the man and the 
beast, which renders the monster so odious 
and malignant a being; nothing could be 
more suitable to the character than the occa- 
sional growlings which finished the complaints 
of the savage, and the grinning eagerness of 
malignity which accompanied his curses on 
Proepero" (ib.). With just criticism that has 
not obtained the attention it deserves he 
continues : " It appeared to us, however, that 
after he had dnmk so much of a liquor to 
which he was imaccustomed, and indeed after 
he had acknowledged its power by reeling on 
the stage, he should not have displayed so 
sober a voice in his song: we think that 
Shakespeare intended the song to be given in 
the style of a drunkard, by the break which 
he has marked in the line — 

ban — ban — Ca — Caliban — 

which could hardly have been a chorus" (ib.). 
On Kemble's dalliance with Drydenand D^Ave- 
nant Hunt is justly severe. From the Monthly 
Mirror we learn that Stephano was played by 
Munden, and that he and Fawcett did justice 
to the characters assigned them. The critic 
continues: — "Trinculo appeared, for the first 
time, in a fool's coat : That he was & jester we 
know, for he is so called in the original drama- 
tit pertonce^ and that he should wear a party- 
coloured dress appears proper, from the speech 
of Caliban, 'What a pied ninny's this.' We 
presume also that Mr. Kemble has some good 
reason for making him the king's jester ; but 
of the authority for this we are not aware, un- 
less the honour of being wrecked in the same 
vessel with the King may have been sufiicient 
to entitle him to the distinction" (vol. xxiL 
p. 419). Kemble's later version was revived 
at Covent Garden under Fawcett's manage- 
ment 26th Oct 1812, with Young as Prospero, 
C Kemble Ferdinand, Mathews Stephano, 
Blanchard Trinculo, Emery Caliban, Mrs. H. 
Johnston Hippolito, Miss Bolton Ariel, Miss 



Sally Booth Dorinda, and Miss Cooke Mi- 
randa. 

Macready's first appearance as Prospero 
took place at Covent Garden 15th May, 1821, 
in a version compounded from Shakespeare 
and Dryden and I^Avenant, to which Rey- 
nolds contributed new songs and dialogue 
(Memoirs, ii. 411). Abbott was Ferdinand, 
Duruset Hippolito, Egerton Alonzo, Emery 
Caliban, W. Farren Stephano, Blanchard Trin- 
culo, Miss Foote Ariel, Miss Hallande Miran- 
da, and Miss Stephens Dorinda. It was acted 
eleven times (Genest; fifteen times, Beynolds). 
After uttering a further protest against the 
maintenance of Dryden's indecencies, a writer 
in the New Monthly (?Talfouni) condemns the 
mounting, in which the genius of pantomime 
triumphs over that of poetry, and Harlequin 
is the first of enchanters (iii. 277). Mac- 
ready's declamation and the delicious singing 
of Miss Stephens and Miss Hallande are 
praised. Emery's Caliban " may," it is said, 
" be like a savage from the woods of Yorkshire, 
but breathes little of the wondrous isle;" while 
the writer goes into raptures over one char- 
acter, regarding ^* the bright vision of Miss 
Foote, which glitters over the stage as the 
personified spirit of the beautiful story" (ib.). 
Gold's London Magazine (iii. 643) speaks of 
Prospero as "not the most favourable part 
for the development of Macready's talents." 
Macready reappeared as Prospero at Drury 
Lane 5th Oct 1833. He "acted it but in- 
diflferently" (Reminiscences by Sir J. Pollock, 
i. 387), but " the pUiy went off well." 

Under his own management Macready at 
Covent Garden, 13th Oct. 1838, at length pro- 
duced Shakespeare's Tempest in something 
approaching to its integrity. The following 
was the cajst: — 

Proapero = Macready. 

Alonzo = Wardo. 

Sebastian = Diddear. 

Antonio = Phelps. 

Caliban = Geo. Bennett. 

Stephano = Bartley. 

Trinculo = Harley. 

Miranda = Miss Helen Faucit. 

Ariel = Miss Priscilla Horton. 

Iris = Mrs. Serle. 

Juno = Miss Rainforth. 

183 



THE TEMPEST. 



A selection of music from Purcell, Linley, and 
Ame was given, and elaborate mounting was 
provided. It was acted fifty-five times to an 
average of over ^£230. The performance was 
generally approved, and recollections of the 
Miranda of Miss Helen Faucit (Lady Mar- 
tin) and the Ariel of Miss Priscilla Horton 
(Mrs, German Reed) are still preserved by a 
few playgoers with distant memories. 

Phelps produced The Tempest 7th April, 
1847, during his third season at Sadler's Wells, 
with much success. He played Prospero to 
the Ferdinand of Marston, the Caliban of 
Geo. Bennett, the Trinculo of Scharf, the 
Stephano of A. Younge, the Miranda of 
Miss Laura Addison, and the Ariel of Miss 
Julia St. George. It was revived at the same 
house with unimportant modifications in the 
cast 25th Aug. 1849, the opening of Phelps's 
sixth season. On Ist July, 1857, Charles 
Kean revived The Tempest at the Princess's 
with much splendour of mise en seine, Charles 
Kean was Prospero, Ryder Caliban, Harley 
Trinculo, and Matthews Stephano; Miss 
Carlotta Leclercq Miranda, Miss Bufton Fer- 
dinand, and Miss Kate Terry Ariel. Miss 
Poole led an invisible choir. The literary 
interest of the revival was swallowed up in 
scenic effect, and the Ariel of Miss Terry (Mrs. 
Arthur Lewis) is the only performance that 
stands out in the recollection. "The task 
which Mr. Kean appears to have set himself 
is, to show Ariel in the greatest possible 
variety of situations, keeping up the notion 
of a spiritual being by the dazzling light 
with which he is surrounded, the suddenness 
of his appearance, and the swiftness with 
which he passes from spot to spot. . . . The 
part is taken by Miss Kate Terry, who brings 
to it youth, grace, and intelligence" (The Sa- 
turday Review, 4th June, 1857). 

Other revivals are traceable. None of these 
is, however, of conspicuous interest. On ac- 
count of requiring a certain amount of scenic 
and musical addition, and offering in the char- 
acter of Prospero no great attractions to a 
tragedian. The Tempest has been rarely put 
up for a benefit. "We dare not, in a series of 
notices intended to supply trustworthy infor- 
mation, deal much with conjecture; nor do 

184 



we venture without apology to put forward 
the following suggestion. After the produc- 
tion of The Winter's Tale and The Tempest 
Shakespeare, in the opinion of Mr. Fleay, 
retired from theatrical life. It would add 
keen interest to the play if we could believe 
that he played in it the character of Prospero, 
and so took in it farewell of the stage as weU 
as of dramatic literature. The lines spoken 

by Prospero — 

1 11 break my staff. 
Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, 
And deeper than did ever plummet sound 
1 11 drown my book. 



— Act ▼. sc. 1. 



And those which follow — 



And thence retire me to my Milan, where 
Every third thought shall be my grave. — lb. — 

have been connected with Shakespeare's re- 
tirement from active life. How keen an 
interest would have been felt had he appeared 
as Prospero. In favour of this there is, of 
course, no evidence; and we dare go no 
further than suggest that Prospero is of the 
declamatory character, like those parts which 
have been associated with Shakespeare as 
an actor, such as Adam and the Ghost in 
Hamlet, and can scarcely be regarded as a 
r61e in which a tragedian would hope for a 
great addition to his reputation. — j.k. 

CRITICAL REMARKS. 

The quality of Tlie Tempest which impresses 
first and most forcibly is its wonderful ima- 
gination. It has no basis in history or in 
contemporary manners. A wholly ideal world 
is called into being by the poet with such ease, 
grace, and decision, that his power seems 
boundless, and we feel that he could have 
created twenty Tempests as easily as one. 
Two of the characters lie outside the bounds 
of humanity, and are nevertheless so abso- 
lutely organic, so perfectly consistent in con- 
ception and faithful to the laws of their being, 
that it never occurs to us to doubt their exis- 
tence any more than that of the human per- 
sonages. Two of these latter are as ideal as 
the laws of humanity permit, one a supreme 
enchanter, who holds the rest in the hollow of 
his hand; the other the most subtle essence of 



INTRODUCTION. 



innocent maidenhood. The other characters, 
though often ordinary people enough, gain 
poetry from their environment. Scene, plot, 
incidents, personages — all are out of the com- 
mon; an enchanted world summoned into exist- 
ence by the magician's wand, and ready to dis- 
appear at his bidding. 

We can appreciate the supremacy of Shake- 
speare's genius by comparingTheTempest with 
a somewhat similar piece also written by a great 
poet — Calderon's El Mayor Encanto Amor (No 
Magic Like Love), one of the plays translated 
by the late Denis Florence McCarthy. The 
subject of this play is the sorceries of Circe, 
who, save that she is beautiful and her witch- 
eries alluring, gives Ulysses and his companions 
much the kind of reception they might have 
expected from Sycorax. Ulysses is a kind of 
Prospero, and the humours of Gronzalo, Ste- 
phano, and Trinculo are combined in the 
gracio90 Clarin. The piece is a constant stream 
of the most beautiful lyric poetry; but the plot 
and the characters are entirely conventional; 
there is ingenuity enough, but not a glimpse of 
Shakespeare's sublime invention, and we see 
that a rude narrative of a shipwreck was more 
to the Englishman than .all Homer to the 
Spaniard. In most of his other plays Shake- 
speare has accommodated himself to restraints 
of time, place, and circumstance; in The Tem- 
pest he appears as absolute sovereign ; yet fully 
as observant as elsewhere of the eternal laws of 
art Here, more than anywhere else, we seem 
to see the world as, if it had depended upon 
him, Shakespeare would have made it. 

The world of The Tempest being thus in 
80 peculiar a degree the creation of Shake- 
spearels own mind, it is of especial interest to 
inquire what kind of a world it is. And this 
is the more important, as the play, coming at 
or near the close of his dramatic career, repre- 
8^Qt8, as no other can, the ultimate conclusions 
of that mighty intellect, and the frame of 
*^d in which he was prepared to take leave 
of the things of earth. TTie result of the in- 
vwtigation is exactly where we should have 
^^ed. The Tempest is one of the most 
<^^rfal of his dramas. Its cheerfulness is, 
moreover, temperate and matured, a cheerful- 
ly^ all the more serious for having been 



acquainted with grief. Unlike many writers, 
Shakespeare had not commenced his career 
under the influence of morbid feelings. There 
is nothing dismal even in Romeo and Juliet 
or the Merchant of Venice; As You Like It is 
the climax of innocent gaiety, and Henry IV. 
of humour. It is in middle life that melan- 
choly and moodiness and obstinate question- 
ings come upon him, and he produces his ana- 
logues of Werther and the Robbers. In Ham- 
let he propounds life's enigma only to give 
it up; in Troilus and Cressida he paints its 
deceptions, and in Measure for Measure its 
deformities; in Timon he brings the whole 
human race in guilty, and proscribes it. Then 
the cloud lifts, and in Cymbeline, The Win- 
ter's Tale, and The Tempest we find him 
returning to his old sunny creed, though the 
sunshine may be that of even rather than of 
mom. Especially is The Tempest a drama of 
reconciliation and peace, authoritatively con- 
firmed by the verdict of the highest reason 
impersonated in Prospero : 

Though with their high wrongs I am struck to the 

quick, 
Yet, with my nobler reason, 'gainst my fury 
Do 1 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. 

In this point of view The Tempest is an 
advance even upon the two immediately pre- 
ceding dramas, Cymbeline and The Winter's 
Tale. In botli, enormous injuries resulting 
from causeless jealousy are obliterated, and, 
as concerns the minds of the sufferers, made 
as though they had never been. But in both 
these instances the wrong was not wilful, and 
sprang from the error of misguided affection. 
In The Tempest it is of far deeper dye, and 
Prospero, moreover, is an injured sovereign, not 
a tender and forgiving woman. Yet his mercy 
is as complete, but it is of another kind. It is 
rather the contemptuous indifference, not only 
of a prince who feels himself able to despise his 
enemies, but of a sage no longer capable of 
being very deeply moved by external accidents 
and the mutations of earthly fortune. He does 
not in his heart very greatly care for his duke- 
dom, or very deeply resent the villainy that 

185 



THE TEMPEST. 



has deprived him of it. The happiness of his 
daughter is the only thing which touches him 
very nearly, and one has the feeling that even 
the failure of his plans to secure this would 
not have embittered his life. Nay, so far does 
he go in detachment from the affairs of the 
world, that without any external enforcement 
he breaks his staff, drowns his book, and, but 
for the imperishable gains of study and medi- 
tation, takes his place among ordinary men. 
That this Quixotic height of magnanimity 
should not surprise, that it should seem quite 
in keeping with the character, proves how 
deeply this character has been drawn from 
Shakespeare's own nature. Prospero is not 
Shakespeare, but the play is in a certain 
measure autobiographical. Unlike, perhaps, 
others of the later plays, Othello (if we are 
right in attributing this to 1609), Cjrmbe- 
line, The Winter's Tale, it alludes to no event 
in Shakespeare's life or that of any one dear 
to him, but it is nevertheless a chapter of 
mental history. It shows us more than any- 
thing else what the discipline of life had 
nwule of Shakespeare at fifty — a fruit too 
fully matured to be suffered to hang much 
longer on the tree. Conscious superiority un- 
tinged by arrogance, genial scorn for the mean 
and base, mercifulness into which contempt 
enters very largely, serenity excluding passion- 
ate affection, while admitting tenderness, in- 
tellect overtopping morality, but in no way 
blighting or pei'verting it, such are the mental 
features of him in whose development the 
man of the world had kept pace with the poet, 
and who now shone as the consunmiate 
example of both. We shall have to speak by 
and by of the little foibles which Shakespeare 
has allowed to mingle with Prospero's por- 
trait, partly lest it should be said that the 
great delineator of character had striven to 
depict the undiscoverable perfect man, and 
partly because the purpose of his play com- 
pelled him to keep an eye on James the First 
These failings are not his own. Nor are we 
to think that the lesson of the piece is a prac- 
tical quietism; that "trust in God" excludes 
" keeping the powder dry." Shakespeare seems 
to have inserted a speech, otherwise insignifi- 
cant, to guard against such a supposition : 

186 



I find my zenith doth depend upon 
A most auspicious star, whose influence 
If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes 
Will ever after droop. 

Another great poet has portrayed for us an 
aged, potent, and benevolent enchanter. It is 
interesting to compare Prospero with the 
Faust of the Second Part; who, far more dis- 
tinctly than Shakespeare's creation, imperson- 
ates the author, and sums up his final view of 
life. It is plain that the Time Spirit has been 
at work, and that either of these poets would 
have written differently in the century of the 
other. Though Shakespeare was a more prac- 
tical man than Groethe, and quite exempt from 
what, did reverence allow, we might describe 
as the latter's "fads," the Faust of the Second 
Part IB a more practical and energetic person 
than Prospero, and much more strongly im- 
pressed with the paramount duty of labouring 
for the common weal in his day and geneia- 
tion. On the other hand, although Goethe 
was a more highly cultivated man than Shake- 
speare, and much more advanced in years, his 
Faust does not possess the calm superiority and 
pure, thrice-defecated refinement of Prosper©. 
The ex- manager of the Globe, with his constant 
eye to the main chance, has produced a pattern 
for scholars; the statesman and courtier haa 
given a model for the ordinary man. We must 
ascribe this in great measure to the different 
circumstances of the periods of the respective 
authors. The gospel of work was very imper- 
fectly understood in Shakespeare's time. So 
far as recognized, it had been intrusted to 
religious communities, by that time corrupted, 
and in Shakespeare's country extinct, nor did 
the problems of the age force it forward. Again, 
Shakespeare's purpose in writing The Tempest 
was, as we have seen, a merely temporary' and 
occasional one. But for the royal marriage, and 
the accident of the bridegroom coming from 
beyond the seas, the piece would never have 
existed at all. It was necessary to exhibit 
a counterpart of James, and the qualities of 
James which the poet especially desired to 
bring forward were precisely those which ex- 
perience and meditation had developed in 
himself. Shakespeare does not present Pros- 
pero as an ideal of humanity, but his own 



INTRODUCTION. 



nature overflows into his creation. Goethe, on 
the other hand, knew perfectly what he was 
about when he was drawing Faust, and did 
mean to bequeath to the world a compendium 
of life's lesson as he had learned it. The wis- 
dom of his eighty years is summed up in the 
immortal quatrain : 

Ja, diesem Sinne bin ich gans ergpeben, 
Das ist der Weisheit letzter SchlusSy 
Nur Der verdient dch Freiheit wie das Leben 
Der tiiglich sie erobem muss. 

Evidently the fracture of his magic staff is the 
very last thing that would have occurred to 
Faust 

Neither Faust nor Prospero is a perfect 
character. Each has a past to be repented of. 
Prospero, indeed, has not, like Faust, com- 
mitted crime, but neither has he, like Faust, 
been exposed to the temptations of a super- 
natural intelligence. His errors have been the 
product of his own nature; he has, like the 
monarch he shadows forth, been too bookish 
for a king: 

for the liberal arts 
Without a parallel: those being all my study, 
The government I cast upon my brother, 
And to my state grew stianger, being transported 
And rapt in secret studies. 

Proepero's narrative, in which this ia con- 
fened, is a subtle piece of dramatic irony; he 
does not blame himself, or suspect that he may 
be lowering himself in his daughter's opinion, or 
■ee anything except the treachery from which 
he has suffered, but which he has himself in- 
cited. There is, besides, a slight tinge of irony 
in Shakespeare's conception of his wisdom; it 
i> admirable and adequate to the end it would 
attain, but a little too fussy and self-conscious 
to rank as the very highest manifestation of 
intellect It is what one continually sees in 
men of great parts and long experience, inti- 
"*tely persuaded that no one can do anything 
aowell as themselves, and perhaps not with- 
out groand for that conviction, but a trifle too 
obtrusive in the assertion of it The remain- 

• 

"ig deductions from Prospero's perfection are 
^conspicuous in Faust Shakespeare and 
"<*the, delineating aged men, have given 
^^ a tinge of petulance and peevishness. 



In Faust this becomes unreasoning injustice, 
and makes him, contrary to his intention, re- 
enact the tragedy of Naboth's vineyard. In 
Prospero it is a mere foible, visible in his 
somewhat pedantic manner to his daughter; 
his susceptibility when she does not give him 
sufficient attention, though knowing that he 
has himself caused her drowsiness, and his 
tartness toward Ariel. One can imagine how 
a tamed and civilized Caliban might contrive 
to stir up the populace against him, though 
this is not M. Kenan's idea. 

If Prospero is imperfect, Miranda is per- 
fection, with the abatement only that we 
see her in a peculiar and limited set of circum- 
stances, and must take her on trust for the 
rest She is not a Cordelia or an Imogen, so 
tried in the fire as to justify the confidence 
that she could not possibly come short in any 
circumstance of life. She is rather a Perdita, 
'^a wave of the sea" caught and shown for an 
instant in so exquisitely graceful an attitude 
that we are only too thankful to be sure 
that "she will ever do nothing but that." In 
some respects this pair of heroines are the 
most wonderful of all Shakespeare's women, 
for nowhere else is such an effect obtained 
with so little ap})arent effort. Mere outlines 
produce the impression of elaborate paintings, 
and that seems. the freest exuberance of the 
most careless genius which is in reality the 
reward of prof oundest study and severest toil. 
It would be far easier to create or copy a 
Lady Macbeth than a Miranda. It is amazing 
with how few speeches and how little action 
this effect is produced. Certain it is that 
when Miranda offers to carry the logs for 
Ferdinand she seems to put all the grace and 
lovingnessof womankind into that single act; 
and that no one ever stumbled at her frank 
surrender to, or rather appropriation of, a 
prince whom she has hardly seen : — 

Hence, bashful cunning ! 
And prompt me, plain and holy innocence ! 
1 am your wife, if you will marry me ; 
If not, I '11 die your maid: to be your fellow 
You may deny me ; but 1 11 be your servant. 
Whether you vrill or no. 

What volumes it speaks for Shakespeare's 
freshness of heart that Imogen, Perdita, and 

187 



THE TEMPEST. 



Miranda should be the last creations of the 
veteran dramatist ! 

The other human personages do not require 
much notice. Being Shakespeare's, they are 
exactly what they ouglit to be; but, unless 
Gronzalo be excepted, they have no other office 
than that of necessary wheels in the mechanism 
of the piece. Ferdinand is a gallant young 
lover, rewarded beyond his deserts as lovers 
sometimes are, and as his prototype was 
expected to suppose himself. Alonso's grief 
and remorse are conveyed with all the power 
of which a cheerful subject admitted. The 
conspiracy of Antonio and Sebastian, which 
is, as Coleridge remarks, "an exact counter- 
part of the scene between Macbeth and his 
lady, only pitched in a lower key throughout," 
is artfully managed so as not to shock us 
overmuch, and is in its turn parodied by the 
conspiracy of Stephano, Trinculo, and Caliban. 
The whole of the dramatis personse, except 
the sailors, may be observed to arrange them- 
selves into two camps, a camp of light and a 
camp of darkness, connected by the junction 
of the guilty but not ignoble Alonso with his 
sapient counsellor, in virtue of whose fidelity 
he still has a hold on the world of good. The 
full and extreme contrast is not between 
Caliban and Ariel, but Caliban and Miranda. 

The two supernatural personages, Ariel and 
Caliban, are universally considered the most 
remarkable instances of Shakespeare's imagi- 
nation when it absolutely transcends the limits 
of the knowable — bolder than the fairies of 
the Midsummer Night's Dream, more original 
than the witches of Macbeth. "Ariel," says 
Coleridge, "has in everything the airy tint 
which gives the name." Delicate, his master's 
favourite epithet, is that which suits him best; 
he is graceful, dainty, volatile. Consorting 
with humanity, he has with all his levity 
learned in a measure to enter into its joys 
and sorrows ; one can imagine him provoking 
and capricious, but not inhuman. 

Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling 
Of their afflictioDs ? 

his master says with something like surprise. 
Caliban, on the contrary, is gross and earthy, 

188 



without the rudiment of a moral sense. This 
constitutes his hopeless inferiority, for he 
is not devoid of intellect. His mistake in 
"taking'a drunkard for a god" is rather the 
effect of ignorance than stupidity; he has 
very practical notions how to get rid of 
Prospero. Schlegel observes that he generally 
speaks in verse ; it is further noticeable that 
one of the most poetical passages of the drama 
is put into his mouth : — 

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 metbought would open, and show riches 
Ready to drop upon me ; that, when I wak'd 
I cried to dream again. 

But all this merely appeals to the animal 
nature. With all his sensitiveness to physical 
impressions, Caliban is a moral idiot. He is 
not, as has been fancifully maintained, the 
"missing link" between man and brute; but 
he does indicate what man would be if his pro- 
gress had been solely upon intellectual lines. 

The Tempest is not one of those plays whose 
interest consists in strong dramatic situations. 
The course of the action is revealed from the 
first. Prospero is too manifestly the control- 
ling spirit to arouse much concern for lus 
fortunes. Ferdinand and Miranda are soon 
put out of their pain, and Ariel lies beyond 
the limits of humanity. The action is simple 
and uniform, and all occurrences are seen 
converging slowly towards their destined 
pouit. No play, perhaps, more perfectly 
combines intellectual satisfaction with imagi- 
native pleasure. Above and behind the 
fascination of the plot and the poetry we 
behold Power and Right evenly paired and 
working together, and the justification of 
Providence, producing that sentiment of re- 
pose and acquiescence which is the object and 
the test of every true work of art 

Was Milan thrust from Milan, that his issue 
Should become kings of Naples? 

— R.O. 




THE TEMPEST. 



SCBE I. On board a Mp at lea: a ttorm, 
vilh tkmuier and lightning. 

Enter Ifatter and Boattaain terenxUy. 

Ifatt. Boatswain! 

Boati. Here, master: nhat cheer? 

Itati. Good, speak to the mariners: fall to 't 
JucIt,! or we run ourselves a-ground; bestir, 
l»Ur, [Exit. 

Enter Uaritieri. 

Boati. Heigh, m;' hearts! cheerlj, ch«er1y, 
nr hearts! yare,' jrarel Take in the topeaill 
Tend to the master's vhistle! [Exeunt Jfar- 
■WiJ—Blow, till thou burst thy wind, if 
fwrn enough! 

Snitr Alosbo, Sebastiah, Antonio, Ferdi- 
5ASD, GoszALO, and otkert. 
i^K Good boatswain, have care. Where's 

tie maaterl Play the men. u 



' I'anlv, Dimbljr. 






Boat*. I pray now, keep below. 

Am. Where ia the master, boatswain 1 

Boati. Do you not hear him? You mar 
our labour: keep your cabins : you do aaaist 
the storm. 

Oon, Nay, good, be patient 

Boatt. When the sea ia Hence! What 
care these roarers for the name of king! To 
cabin: silence! trouble us not 

Oon. Good, yet remember whom thou hast 
aboard. !i 

Boats. None that I more love than myself. 
[You are a couuseUor; — if you can command/ 
these elements to silence, and work the peace i 
of the present, we will not hand' a rope more;) 
useyourauthority: if you cannot, givethanksi 
you have liv'd bo long, and make yourself j 
ready in your cabin for the mischance of thej 
hour, if it so hap.^ — Cheerly, good hearts! — i 
Out of our way, I say. \_ExiL 



ACT I. Soene 1. 



THE TEMPEST. 



ACT L 8oea9 S. 



I £ Oon. I have great comfort from this fellow : 
^methinks he hath no drowning -mark upon 
<" him ; his complexion is perfect gallows. Stand 
; fast, good Fate, to his hanging! make the rope 
' of his destiny our cable, for our own doth little 
< advantage! If he be not bom to be hang'd, 
; our case is miserable. [Exeunt, 

Re-enter Boatswain, 

Boats, Down with the topmast! yare; lower, 
flower! Bring her to try with main-course! 
\[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, 
blasphemous, incharitable dog! 44 

Boats. Work you, then. 
I Ant, Hang, cur, hang! [you whoreson, in- 
solent noise-maker,] we are less afraid to be 
drown'd than thou art. 

Oon. I 'U warrant him for drowning; though 
the ship were no stronger than a nutshell, 
[ and as leaky as an unstanched wench. ] 5i 

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

Re-enter Mariners wet. 

Mariners. All lost ! to prayers, to prayers ! 
all lost! [Exeunt, 

[ Boats. What, must our mouths be cold ? 
Gon, The king and prince at prayers! let 's 
assist them. 
For our case is as theirs. 
tSeb. I 'm out of patience. 

Ant. We are merely^ cheated of our lives 
bv drunkards: — 
Thiswide-chapp'd rascal, — would thoumightst 
lie drowning, 60 

The washing of ten tides!] 

Gon, [ He '11 be hang'd yet. 

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

[A confused noise within^ — " Mercy on us ! " 
"We split, we split!" — "Farewell, my wife 
and children ! " — 



1 Merely, absolutely. 
190 



"Farewell, brother!" — "We split, we split, 
we split!"] [Exit Boatswain, 

£Ant. Let 's all sink with the king. [Exit. 
Seb. Let 's take leave of him. [Exit 

Gon, Now would I give a thousand far- 
longs of sea for an acre of barren ground, — > 
ling, heath, broom, furze, any thing. Thel 
wills above be done! but I would fain die aj 
dry death. [Exit.^] 

Scene 11. The isla7id: before the cell of 

Prospero, 

Enter Prospero and Miranda. 

Mir, If by your art, my dearest father, you 
have 
Put the wild waters in this roar, allay them. 
[ The sky, it seems, would pour down stink- 
ing pitch, 
But that the sea, mounting to the welkin's > 
cheek, > 

Dashes the fire out ] O, I have suffered J 
With those that I saw suffer! a brave vessel. 
Who had, no doubt, some noble creatures in 

her, 
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 io< 
Have sunk the sea within the earth, or e'er 
It should the good ship so have swallow'd, and ^ 
The fraughting souls within her.] ^ 

Pros. Be collected; 

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

Mir, 0, woe the day! 

Pros. No harm. 

I have done nothing but in care of thee, — 
Of thee, my dear one, thee, my daughter, — 

who 
Art ignorant of what thou art, naught knowing 
Of whence I am, nor that I am more better 
Than Prospero, master of a full poor cell, 20 
And thy no greater father. 

Mir. More to know 

Did never meddle with my thoughts. 

Pros. Tis time 

I should inform thee further. Lend thy hand, 

s Amazement, perturbation of mind. * Piteous, pttifoL 



THE TEMPEST. 



And pluck my magic garment from me.— So: 

[La^t dotm hit robe. 

lie there, my art.— Wipe thou thine eyes ; 

have comfort,. 
Tliedtrefulapectacle of tlie wreck, which touch'd 
He very virtue of compsseion in thee, 
I have with Buch previBion in mine art 



So aafely order'd, that there is no bouI^ 
No, not 80 much peniition im an hair so 

Betid to any creature in the vessel 
Whicli thou heard'st cry, wliich thou saw's! 

sink. Sit down; 
For thou must now know further. 
-Vir. ' You have often 




Began to tell me what I am; but atopp'd, 
And left me .to a bootlen' inquisition, 
tonclnding, " Stay, not yet" 

Proi. The hour's now come; 

iM very minute bids thee ope thine ear: 
Obey, and be attentive. Cbust thou rememl)er 
^timu before we came unto this cell) 
1 do not think thou canst, for then thou wast 
not 40 

Ont' three yeara old. 

^•r. Certainly, sir, I can. 

iW By what? by any other house or 
person ; 



Of any thing the image t«ll me that 
Hath kept with thy remembrance. 

J/ir. T is far off, 

And rather like a dream than an aMurance 
That my remembrance warrants. Had I not 
Four or five women once that tended mef 

/'nx. Thouhadst,aDdmore,Mirauda. [But' 
how is it 
That this lives in thy niiiid? What see'st thou 

In the dark backward and abysm of time? ^ 
If thou remember'st aught ere thou cam'at< 

How thou cam'at here thou mayst \ 

Mir. But that I do not; 

191 



ACT L Scene 2. 



THE TEMPEST. 



ACT I. Soeoie i. 



i Pros, Twelve year since, Miranda, twelve 
i year since,] 

Thy father was the Duke of Milan, and 
A prince of power. 

Mir, Sir, are not you my father? 

Pros. Thy mother was a piece of virtue, and 
She said thou wast my daughter ; and thy father 
Was Duke of Milan; and his only heir, 
A princess, — no worse iasu'd.^ 

Mir. the heavens! 

What foul play had we, that we came from 
thence? 60 

Or blessed was 't we did ? 

Pros. Both, both, my girl: 

By foul play, as thou say'st, were we heav'd 

thence; 
But blessedly holp hither. 

Mir. O my heart bleeds 

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

Pros. My brother, and thy uncle, call*d 
Antonio, — 
I pray thee, mark me, — ^that a b;*other should 
Be so perfidious! — he whom, next thyself. 
Of all the world I lov*d, and to him put 6» 
The manage^ of my state; as, at that time, 
Through all 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 trans- 
ported 
And rapt in secret studies. Thy false uncle — 
[ Dost thou attend me ? 

Mir. Sir, most heedfully. 

Pros. Being once perfected how to grant 
I suits, 79 

\ How to deny them, who to advance, and who 
To trash ^ for over- topping, — new-created 
The creatures that were mine, I say, orchang'd 
I 'em, 

\ Or else new-f orm'd 'em ; ] having both the key 
Of officer and office, set all hearts i' the state 
To what tune i)lea8'd his ear; that now he was 



* /jfwu'd, descended 2 Teen^ sorrow. * From, out of. 

* Manage, management ^ Siffnioriet, states. 

* Prime, first. " Tra»h, restrain, lop. 

192 



The ivy which had hid my princely trunk, 
And suck'd my verdure out on 't Thou at- 

tend'st not. 
Mir. 0, good sir, I do. 

Pros. C I pray thee, mark me.]^ 

I, thus neglecting worldly ends, [ all dedicated ■ 
To closeness,^ and the bettering of my mind ^ 
With that which, but® by being so retir'd, 91 '. 
O'er-priz'd^® all popular rate,"] in my false < 

brother 
Awak'd an evil nature; [and my trust, ^ 

Like a good parent, did beget of him \ 

A falsehood, in its contrary as great ;:: 

As my trust was; which had indeed no limit, ; 
A confidence sans^' bound. He being thus;' 

lorded, [ 

Not only with what my revenue yielded, i 
But what my power might else exact, — like one ' 
Who having into truth, by telling of it, 100 J 
Made such a sinner of his memory, \ 

To credit his own lie, — he did believe f 

He was indeed the duke; out o' the subetitu-/ 

tion,^3 
And executing the outward face of royalty, [ 
With all prerogative:] — hence his ambition / 

growing,— 

CDost thou hear? 

Mir. Your tale, sir, would cure deafness, s 
Pros. To have no screen between this parti 
he play'd \ 

And him he played it for,] he needs will be "■ 
Absolute Milan. Me, poor man, my library 
Was dukedom large enough: of tempora^X 
royalties no 

He thinks me now incapable; confederates"— 
So dry** he waa for sway — ^with the King o 

Naples 
To give him annual tribute, do him homage. 
Subject his coronet to his crown, and bend 
The dukedom,yet unbo w'd — alas, poorMilan ! 
The most ignoble stooping. 

Mir. O the heavens! 

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

> Clo9ene»9, retirement * But, save. 

10 O'er-pri^d, outvalued. 

n RaU, estimation. i* Saiu, without 

i> Ot(( o' the mbgtUution, became of the depntyship. 
i« Confederate*, conspires. 1* Dry, thirsty. 



ACT I. Soene 3. 



THE TEMPEST. 



ACT I. Scene 2. 



: Mir. I should sin 

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

Pros, Now the condition. ] 

This King of Naples, being an enemy 121 

To me inveterate, hearkens my brother's suit; 
Which was, that he, in lieu^ o* the premises, — 
Ot homage, and I know not how much tri- 
bute, — 
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 dark- 
ness, ISO 
The ministers for the purpose hurried thence 
Me and thy crying self. 

t J/i>. Alack, for pity! 

I, not remembering how I cried out then, 
Will cry it o'er again: it is a hint* 
That wrings mine eyes to 't. 

Pros, Hear a little further, 

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

story 
Were most imi)ertineiit.^] 

J/ir. Wherefore did they not 

That hour ilestroy us 1 

Pros. [ Well demanded, wench : 

My tale provokes that question. ] Dear, they 
durst n<»t, — 140 

^ dear the love my people bore me, — nor set 
A mark so bloody on the business; but 
With colours fairer i)ainte<l their foul enda 
lu few,^ they hurried us aboard a bark, 
J^>re iw some leagues to sea; where they pre- 

par'd 
A rotten carcass of a boat, not rigg'd. 
Nor tackle, sail, nor mast; the very rats 
Instinctively have quit it: there they hoist us, 
To cry to the sea that roar'd to us; to sigh 
To the winds, whose pity, sighing back again, 
Wd us but loving wrong. 

^ir. Abick, what trouble 

^'aalthen to you! 



' But nobly, other than nobly. 
' /m lieu, in consideration. 

* hretently, immediately. 

* Inpertinent, irrelevant 

VOL. VII. 



* Hint, subject 

* In few, in short 



Pros. O, a cherubin 152 

Thou wast that did preserve me! Thou didst 

smile. 
Infused with a fortitude from heaven, 
When Ihavedeck'd^ the sea with drops full salt, 
Under my burthen groan'd: which rais'd in me 
An undergoing stomach,^ to bear up 
Against what should ensue. 

Mir. How came we ashore? 

Pros. By Providence divine. 
Some food we had, and some fresh water, that 
A. noble Neapolitan, Gonzalo, 161 

Out of his charity, — who being then appointed 
Master of this design,— did give us; with 
Rich garments, linens, stuffs, and necessaries. 
Which since liave steaded much;® so, of his 

gentleness. 
Knowing I lov'd my books, he furnish'd me, 
From mine own library, with volumes that 
I prize above my dukedom. 

Mir. Would I might 

But ever see that man! 

Pros. Now I arise: — 

[Jtesumes his mande. 
Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow. 
Here in this island we arriv'd; and here 171 
Have I, thy schoolmaster, made thee more 

profit^o' 
Than other j)riiicea8' " can, that have more time 
For vainer hours, and tutors not so careful 

Mir. Heavens thank you for't! And now, 
I pray you, su*,— 
For still 't is beating in my mind, — your reason 
For raising the sea-storm ? 

Pros. Know thus far forth. 

By accident most strange, bountiful Fortune — 
Now my dear lady*^ — hath mine enemies 
Brought to this shore; and by my prescience 
I find my zenith doth dejHjnd upon isi 

A most auspicious star, whose influence 
If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes 
Will ever after droop. Here cease more ques- 
tions: 
Thou art inclin'd to sleep; 't is a good dulness, 

7 Deek'd, sprinkled. 

^ An Htidergmng gtomaeh, an enduring courage. 

* Haw gteaded much, have stood us in good stead. 

10 Mad€ thee more prtpfit, i.e. made thee profit more. 

11 Prineest', princesses (elision made on account of the 
metre). 

u Now my dear lady, now my auspicious mistress. 

193 179 



*cri. 



THE TEMPEST. 



And give it way: — I know thou caust not 
choose. — [Jfiranda ikepi. 

Come away, tervaut, come! I am ready now: 
Approach, my Ariel; come! 

Eater Ariel. 
Ari. All bail, great maater! grave air, hail! 



answer thy best pleaaore; be 't to fly, iw 
To Bwim, to dive into the fire, to ride 
On the curl'd clouda, — to thy Btnmg bidding 

task 
Ariel and all hia qualilry.' 

I'rot. Hast thou, spirit, 

Perform'd to point* the tempest that I bade 
theef 




Ari. To every article. 
I lioarded the king's ship; ni 
Now in the waist,* the deck, 
I flani'd ,1 
And burn i 



on the beak,' 
every cabin, 
I 'd divide, 
the topmast, 



Tlie yarrfa, and bowsprit, would I flame 

tinctly,' mo 

JTheu meet, and join. QJove'a liglitnings, 
( the precursors 

(ytbe dreadful thunder-claps, more momentary 

I Quaiilti. ikill. nbJIlt^. 

' Topaint. muiay. • Btat. bow. 

• WaUt. th« part lietwven tlii- qnarter-deck itiil the 
toncutli. > D!i-liiicllg. «pint«1y. 



And sight-outrunning were not:^ llie fire, and 

Uf sulphurous roaring, the moat mighty Nep- 

Seem to 1)esiege, and make his bold waves 

tremble, 
Vea, his dread trident shake. 

Q I'roi. My brave spirit!} 

Who WHS so firm, so constant, that this coil' f 
Would not infect his reaaonl] 

-■In'. Not a soul 

But felt a fever of the mail, and play'd 

*C<iii, turmDU. 



ACT I. Soen« 2. 



THE TEMPEST. 



ACT 1. Scene 2. 



Some tricks of desperation. All but mariners 
Plung'd in the foaming brine, and (|uit the 
vessel, 211 

Then all a-fire with me: the king's son, Fer- 
dinand, 
With hair up-staring,^ — then like reeds, not 

hair, — 
Was the first man that leaped; cried, **Hell is 

empty, 
And all the devils are here." 

Pros. Why, that 's my spirit I 

But was not this nigh shore ? 
ArL ' Close by, my master. 

Pros, But are they, Ariel, safe? 
ArL Not a hair perish'd; 

On their sustaining garments not a blemish. 
But fresher than before : and, as thou bad'st me. 
In troops I have dispersed them 'bout the isle. 
The king's son liave I landed by himself; 221 
Whom I left cooling of the air with siglis 
In an odd angle ^ of the isle, and sitting, 
His anns in this sad knot 

Pros. Of the king's ship 

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

ArL Safelv in harlx)ur 

It the king's ship; in the deep nook,^ where 

once 
Thou caJl'ilst me up at midnight to fetch dew 
From the still- vex'd* Bermoothes, there she's 

hid: 
The mariners all under hatches stow'd; 230 
[Who, with a charm join'd to their suflfer'd 

labour, 
I have left asleep:^ and for* the rest o' the 

fleet, 
^ich I dispers'd, they all have met again, 
And are upon the Meiliterranean flote,^ 
^uud sadly home for Naples; 
Supposing that they saw the king's ship 

wreck'd, 
And his great person perish. 

^'w. Ariel, thy charge 

Exactly is perf orm'd : but there 's more work, 
^t is the time o' the day? 



1 Up-ataring, standing on end. 

*An odd attgle, an out-of-the-way comer. 

« .Vw*, bay. 

* StiU-rexdf constantly disturbed. 

* For, as for. • FloU, Hood, sea. 



ArL Past the mid season. 

Pros. At least two glasses.^ The time 'twixt 
six and now 240 

Must by us both Ije spent most preciously. 

ArL Is there more toil? Since thou dost 
give me pains,® 
Let me remember thee^ what thou hast pro- 

niis'd. 
Which is not yet perform'd me. 

Pros. How now? moody? 

What is 't thou canst demand i 

ArL My liberty. 

Pros. Before the time be out? no more! 

Ari. I prithee. 

Remember I have done thee worthy service; 
Told thee no lies, made no mistakings, serv'd 
Without or grudge or grumblings: thoudidi.t 

promise 
To bate me a full year. 

Pros. Dost thou forget 250 

From what a torment I did free thee? 

Ari. No. 

Pros. Thou dost; and think'st it much to 
tred the ooze 
Of the salt deep, 

To run \i\)ou the shaq) wind of the north, 
To do me business in the veins o' the earth 
When it is bak'd with frost. 

An. I do not, sir. 

Pros. Thou liest, malignant thing! Hast 
thou forgot 
The foul witch Sycorax, who with age and en vy *° 
Was gi-own into a hooj>? hast thou forgot her? 

Ari. No, sir. 

Pros. Thou hast. Where was she 

bom? speak; tell me. 2m 

ArL Sir, in Argier. 

Pros. O, was she so ? I must 

Once in a month recount what thou hast been. 
Which thou forgett'st This damn'd witch 

Sycorax, 
For mischiefs manifold, and sorceries terrible 
QTo enter human hearing,] frt>m Argier," { 
[Thou know'st,] was biwish'd: for one thing; 

slie did 
They would not take her life. [ Is not this true? ^ 

Ari. Ay, sir.] 



<" Puinti, tasks. 



f Ttjco glaMfn, i.e. two hours. 
9 Rememhtr thee, remind tliee. 
^'> Envy, malice. " Argier, Algiers. 

195 



ACT I. Scene S. 



THE TEMPEST. 



ACT I. Boene 1 



Pro9. This blue-ey'd hag was hither brought 

with child, 
Ami here wjw left by the sailors. Thou, my 

slave, 270 

As thou report'st thyself, wast then her ser- 
vant; 
And, for^ thou wast a spirit too delicate 
To act her earthy and abhorr'd commands, 
Refusing her grand bests,* she did confine thee, 
By help of her more potent ministers, 
And in her most unmitigable I'age, 
Into a cloven pine; within which rift 
Imprison'd, thou didst piiinfully remain 
A dozen years; within which M]>ace she died. 
And left thee there; where thou didst vent 

thy groans 280 

As fast as mill-wheels stiike. Tlien was this 

island — 
Save for the son that she did litter here, 
A freckleil whelp hag- born — nothonour'd with 
A human sha]>e. 

Art. Yes, CViliban her son. 

Pros. Dull thing, I say so; he, that Caliban, 
Whom now I keep in service. Thou best know'st 
What torment I did find thee in; thy groans 
Did make wolves howl, and penetrate the 

bi'easts 
()f ever-anirrv bears: it was a tcninent 
Tu lay uix>n the damn'd, which Sycorax 290 
Omld not again undo: it was mine art. 
When I arriv'd and heanl thee, that made gape 
The pine, and let thee out. 

Ari. I thank thee, master. 

Pros. If thou more murmui-'st, I will rend 

an oak. 
And i)eg thee in his knotty entrails, till 
Tliou'st howl'd awav twelve winters. 

Ari, Panlon, master: 

I will l)e cuiTespondent to command. 
And do my spriting gently. 

Pri}s. Do so; and after two days 

I will discharge thee. 

. 1 ri. That 's m v noble master I 

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

Pros. Go make thyself like to a nymph o' 

the sea: soi 

Be subject to no sight but mine; invisible 
To every eyeUall else. Go take this shape. 



1 For^ because. 



s IlettM, comraands. 



And hither come in 't: go, hence with diligence! 

[KrU Arid, 
Awake, dear heart, awake! thou hast slept well; 
Awake! 

Mir. [Waking] The strangeness of your stor)' 
put 
Heaviness in me. 

Pros. Shake it off. Come on; 

We '11 visit Caliban my slave, who never 
Yields us kind answer. 

Mir. T is a viUain, sir, 

I do not love to look on. 

Pros. But, as 'tis, su^ 

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

Cal, [ Withvi] There 's wood enoug'S 

within. 

Pros. Come forth, I say! there's oth^: 
business for thee: 
Come, thou tortoise! when? 

Re-oiter Ariel lil-e a tpater-nymph. 

Fine apparition ! My quaint Aiiel, 

Hark in thine ear. 

Ari. My lord, it shall be done. [Exi^ 

Pros. Tliou ])oisonous slave, got by the dev i - 
himself 

\5\yo\\ thy wicked dam, come forth ! ssS^ 

E^Uer Caliban. 

Cal. As wicked* dew as e'er my mothe^ 
brush'd 

With raven's feather from unwholesome fen 

Dn)p on you both! a south-west blow on ye, 

And blister you all o 'er I 

Pros. For this, be sure, to-night thou shal'C^ 
liave cramps. 

Side-stitches tliat shall pen thy breath up ^ 
urchins 

Shall forth at vast of night that they may^ 
work 

All exercise on thee; thou shalt be pinch'd 

As thick as honeycomb, each pinch more sting- 
ing 32d 

Tlian bees that make 'em. 

Cal. I must eat my dinner. 



s Mist, do without. 



4 Wiektd, baneful. 



196 



THE TEMPEST. 



ACTl. 



rtua uUnd 's mine, by Sycorax my mother, 
Which thou tak'at from rae. When thou 
ouDest first, lai 

»T»ou stmk'dst me, and nuui'st much of me ; 

wuuldBt give roe 
W"at«r with berries in t; and teach me how 
^o muDti the bigger lig^t, and bow the lesa, 



That bum by day aud night: and then 1 

iov-d thee, 
Ami ehow'd thee all the qualities o' the isle, 
The treah springs, brine-pits, barren pU«e and 

Cursed be I that did bo I All the charms 
Of SycorajE, toads, beetles, bats, light on you! 




For I ixa nil the subjects that you have, 
^liieh first was mine own king; and here you 

In tluH hard rock, whiles you do keep from me 
11i» r«st o' the inland. 

Pmi. Thou most lying slave, 

^om stripes may move, not kindness 1 I 

have ua'd thee, 
^Ith as tlioti art, with human care; I lodg'd 

thee 
In mine own cell, till thou didst seek to violate 
The honour of my child. .Ma 

[CtU. OholObo! — would 't had been done 1 



Thou diilst prevent me; I had peopled elw 
This isle with Calibans. 

I'l-ot. Abhorred slave. 

Which any print of goodness wilt nut take, . 
Being I'spable of all ill 1] I |jitie<l thee, - 

Took pains to make thee speak, taught thee 

each hour 
One thing or other: when tbou didst not, 

savage, 
Know thine own meaning, but wouldat gabble 

like 



I CafobU nf. Imprculblt b] 



ACT (. Scene 2. 



THE TEMPEST. 



ACT L 8« 



A thing most brutish, I endowed thy purposes 
; With woxxls that made them kuowu. [|But thy 
;, vile race, * 

; Though thou didst learn, had that in 't which 
'. good natures 

'^ Could not abide to be with; therefore wast 
; thou S60 

J Deserveilly confined into this rock, 
^Who hadst deserved 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 
For learning * me your language ! 

Pros. Hag-seeil, hence 1 

Fetch us in fuel; and be quick, thou 'i-t best. 
To answer other business. Shrugg'st thou, 

malice ? 
If thou neglect'st, or dost unwillingly 
What I command, I'll rack thee with old 
cramps,^ 369 

Fill all thy bones with aches,* make thee roar. 
That beasts shall tremble at thy din. 

Cal. No, jiray thee. — 

[^-Iwi/e] I must obey: his art is of such power, 
It would control my dam's go<l, Setebos, 
And make a vassal of him. 
Pros. So, slave; hence 1 [Exif Caliban. 

Re-enter Ariel, intnsibley plai/iiuj aiid sing- 
ing; Ferdinand follomng. 

Ariel's song. 

Come unto these yellow sands, 

And then take hands : 
Courtsicd when you have and kiss'd 

The wild waves wMst : 
Foot it foatly' here and there ; ^^ 

And, sweet sprites, the burden bear. 
Hark, hark ! 

[Burden^ diiper»fdhty within. Bow, wow. 
The watch-doj^ bark : 

[Burdrn , diJtpei'ifdltff within. Bow, wow. ] 
Hark, hark ! I bear 
Tlic strain of strutting chanticleer 
Cr)', Cix:k-a-diddlo-dow. 

Fer. Where should this music be ? i' the air 
or the eai-th? jwr 

^Jiaee. nature. ^Learning, teaching. 

« Old cramp». plenty of cramps. 
*Achrii. pnmounceil as a (lisHyllable. 
* Featy, nimbly. 

198 



It sounds no more: — ^and, sure, it waits i 
Some god o' the island. Sitting on a bai 
Weeping again the king my father's wret 
This music crept by me upon the waters, 
Allaying both their fury and my pasBion* 
With its sweet air: thence I have follow*! 
Or it hath drawn me rather: — but 't is gc 
No, it begins again. 

Ariel sings. 

Full fathom five thy father lies ; 

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

Nothing of him that doth fade 
But doth suffer a sea-chango 
Into something rich and strange. 
Sea-nymphs hourly ring his knell : 

[Biii'den, within. Ding-dong.] 
Hark ! now I hear them, — Ding-dong, be 

Fer. The ditty does remember^ my dro^ 
father: — 
This is no mortal business, nor no sound 
That the earth owes:® — I heai* it now a 
me. 
Pros. Tlie fringed curtains of thine 
advance,® 
And say what thou see'st yond. 

Mir. What is 't? a sp 

Lonl, how it looks about ! Believe me, s 
It carries a bi:ave form: — but 'tis a spirit 
Pros. No, wench; it eats, and slee])6, 
hath such senses 
As we have, such. This gallant which thou s 
Was in the wreck; and, but^® he's somet! 

stain'd 
With grief, that's beauty's canker, 

mightst call him 
A gooilly person: he hath lost his fellows, 
And strays about to find 'em. 

Afir. I might call 

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

Pros. [Aside'] It goes on, I see, 

As my soul pi-ompts it. — Spirit, fine sj: 

I '11 free thee 
Within two days for this. 

Fer. Most sure, the goc 



* PatHtion, grief. 

» Oweg, owns. 

9 Advance, lift up. 



' Remember, commem 
10 But, except that. 



Ou whom these ai 

prayer 
M«j know if you ] 
And that you will 
H(iw I may bear i 
\\ liictil do last pronounce,is, — y< 
If you be maid or no? 

Vir. No wonder, 

But certainly a maid. 



THE TEMPEST, 
attend: — Vouchsafe my 



u upon this ialaud; 
good inatnictioii give 
here: niy prime request, 
wonder!— 



/•'er. My language ! beavenal — 

I am the best of them that apeak this speech. 
Were I but where 't ia apokeu. 

J'roi. How 1 the best! 

What wert thou, if the King of Naples heard 

theel til 

Fer. A single' thing, aa I am now, that 

To hearthee speak of Naples. Hedoeshearme; 




Fir Wlmt lIirKlhl Ihll Diul 



AjhI that be does I weep; myself am Najjles; 
^'ho with miue eyes, ne'er since at ebb, 

beheld 
'*e king my father wreck'd, 
Mir. Alack, tor mercy! 

/'«-. Yes, faith, and aU his lords; the Duke 
of Milan 
'*nd his brave aon being twain. 

J'roi. [Aside] The Fhike of Milan 

^iiii his more braver daughter could control^ 
thee, 439 

*/ now 't were fit to do 'I. — At the firat sight 
' nev have cliang'd eyes. — Delicate Ariel, 
J U Bet thee free for this I— A word, good sir; 
* fear you have done yourwlf some wrong: a 
»ord. 
-Vi>. Why a{ienks my father so uugeutly? 
Tills 
^Ute third man that e'er I saw; the firat 



» Cmlrel, CDDlutv. 



Tliat e'er I sigh'd for; pity move my father 
To be incliu'd my wayl 

Fer. O, it a virgin, 

And your affection not gone forth, I 'II make 

The queen of Naples. 

/'rtm. Soft, air! one word more. — 

[Aiide] They are both in eitheHa powers: but 

this swift businesB 4U 

I must uneasy make, lest too light wiiiiiiug 
Make tlie prize light — One word more; I 

charge thee 
Tliat thou nttend me; thou dost here usurp 
Tile name thou ow'st not; and liaat put thyself 
Upon thin island as a spy, to win it 
the lord o 



No, a 






Fer. 

ifir. There 'a nothing ill 

If the ill spirit have so fair a houae. 
Good things will strive to dwell with 't. 






ACT I. 



THE TEMPEST. 



Pro*. Follow me.— [To Ferdinaitd. 

Speaknot youfor him; he's a traitor. — Conies 
I'll manacle thy neck and feet together: mi 
Sea-water ahalt thou drink; thy food shall be 
The fresh-brook musclea, witheHd roots, and 

buaks 
Whereui the acom cradled. Follow. 



Fer. 



No; 



I will I'esLat such entertainment till 
Mine enemy haa more power. 

[praas, and u charmed from monnff _ 
Jf IT. O dear fother, 

Make not I'm msb a trial of him, for 
He 's gentle, and not fearfuL 




Proi. What, I 8a\, 

My foot my tutor! — Put thy sword up, traitor; 
Who mak'st a. show, but dar'st not strike, thy 



Is so posae«8'd with guilt: come from th; 

For I call here diaarm thee with this stick, 
And make thy weapon drop. 
ifir. Beseech you, fatherl- 

1 Ward. pottDTe of dat«nce. 



Proi Hencel hang not on my gannents. 
Mtr. Sir, have pity; 

I '11 be his surety. 

Pro*. Silence) one word more 

Shall make me chide thee, if not hate the«. 

What, 
An advocate for an impostor! huah! 
Thou thhik'st there is no more such dimpen 

as he. 
Having seen but him and Calibsii : foolish 
wench! 



ACT L Scene 2. 



THE TEMPEST. 



ACT II. Soeue 1. 



To^ the most of men this is a Caliban, 480 
And they to him are angels. 

Mir. My affections 

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

Pros. Come on; obey: [To FerditiancL 
Thy nerves are in their infancy again, 
And have no vigour in theuL 

Fer. So they are: 

My spirits, as in a dream, are all bound up. 
My father's loss, the weakness which I feel, 
The wreck of all my friends, nor this man's 
threats 488 

To whom I am subdued, are but light to me, 
Might I but through my prison once a-day 
Behold this maid: all comers else o' the 
earth 



Let liberty make use of; space enough 49i 
Have I in such a prison. 

Pros. [Aside] It works. — [To Ferdinand] 
Come on. — 
Thou hast done well, fine Ariel I — [To Fer- 
dinand] Follow me. — 
[To Ariel] Hark what thou else shalt do me. 

Mir. Be of comfort; 

My father 's of a better nature, sir. 
Than he appears by speech: this is unwonted 
Which now came from him. 

Pros. Tliou shalt be as free 

As mountain winds: but then exactly do 
All ix>int8 of my command. 

ArL To the syllable. 

Pros. Come, follow. — Speak not for him. 

[J:^j;eunL 



ACT 11. 



ScEXE I. A Hother part of the isl<tnd. 

FfUerAhoyso, Sebastian, Antonio, Gonzalo, 
Adrian, Francisco, and others. 

(Jon. Beseech you, sir, be merry; you have 
cause — 
So have we all — of joy; for our escape 
Is much beyon<l our loss. [ Our hint of woe 
Is common; every day some sailor's wife, 
. The master of some merchant, and the merchant, 
. Have just our theme of woe : but for the miracle, 
. I mean our preservation, few in millions 
'.Can speak like us:^ then wisely, good sir, 
weigh 8 

Our sorrow with our comfort. 

Aloii. Prithee, peace. 

Sdt. He receives comfort like cold porridge. 

Ant. The visitor will not give him o'er so. 

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

Gon. Sir, — 

Sd>. One:--tell. 

Goo. When every grief is entertained that 's 
offered. 
Comes to the entertainei 

Sd>. A dollar. 



1 To, oompared to. 



Gon. Dolour comes to him, indeed: you 
have, spoken truer than you purpos'd. 20 

Seh. You liave taken it wiselier than I 
meant you should. 

Gon. Therefore, my lord,— 

xint. Fie, what a spendthrift is he of his 
tongue ! 

Alon. I prithee, spare. 

Goiu Well, I have done: but yet, — 

Seh. He will be talking. 

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

ikb. The old cock. 90 

Ant. The cockerel. 

Seb. Done I The wager? 

{^Ant. A laughter. 

Seh. A match! ] 

Adr. Though this island seem to be desert, — 

Seh. Ha, lia, ha I — So, you 're paid. 

Adr. Uninhabitable, and almost inacces- 
sible,— 

[_Seh. Yet,— 

Adr. Yet, — 

Ant. He could not miss't^ 40 

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

s Temperance . temperature. 
201 



ACT II. Hoentt L 



THE TEMPEST. 



ACT U. I 



f [ A)U, Temperance was a delicate wench. 
^ «Se6. 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. 
/ Aiit. Or as 'twere pei-fum'd by a fen. 
( Oon, Here is every thing advantageous to 
/life. 
/ Ant, True; save means to live. 



50 



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



( Oon. How lush^ and lusty the grass looks! 

I how green ! 

J Ant. The ground, indeed, is tawny. 

< ISeb. With an eye of green ^ in 't 

<' A nt. He misses not much. 

{ iSeb. No; he doth but mistake the truth 

: totally.] 

CfoiL But the rarity of it is, — which is in- 
deed almost beyond credit, — 

A^eb. As many vouch'd rarities are. 60 

Oon. That our garments, being, as they 

were, drench'd in the aea, hold, notwithstaud- 

, ing, their freshness and glosses, being [rather 

new-dy'd than stain'd with salt water. 

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

Seb. Ay, or very falsely ]xx;ket up his report. 
Oon. Methinks our ganueuts are now ] as 
fresh as when we put them on first in Afric, 
at tlie marriage of the king's fair daughter 
Claribel to the King of Tunis. n 

Seb. T was a sweet marriage, and we pros- 
per well in our return. 

[^Adr. Tunis was never grac'd before with 
such a jjaragou to their queen.' 
Oon. Not since widow Dido's time. 
Ant, Widow I a \)ox o' that! How came 
that widow in? widow Dido! 

Seb. What if he had said " widower ^neas" 

too? Good Lord, how you take it! 80 

Adr. Widow Dido, said you? you make 

; me study of that : she was of Carthage, not of 

; Tunis. 

Oon. This Tunis, sir, was Carthage. 
',- Adr, Carthage! 

Oon. I assure you, Carthage. 

1 Luth, luxaidaDt 

* An eye qf green, a tinge of green. 

s To their queen, i.e. for their queen. 

202 



Ant. His word is more than the niin 
harp. 

Seb. He hath rais'd the wall, and hoof 

A7it, What impossible matter will he 
easy next? 

Sd). I think he will carry this island 
in his pocket, and give it his son for an 

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

Oon, Ay. 

Ant, Why, in good time.] 

Oon. Sir, we were talking that our gai 
seem now as fresh as when we were at 
at the marriage of your daughter, who 
queen. 

[ Ant. And the rarest that e'er came 

Seb. Bate, I beseech you, widow Did< 

Ant. O, widow Dido; ay, widow Did 

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

Ant. That sort was well fish'd for. 

Oon. When I wore it at your dau] 
marriage?] 

Alon. You cram these words into 
ears against 
Tlie stomach of my sense. Would I had 
Miirried my daughter there! for, coming t 
My son is lost; [and, in my rate,* she 1 
Who is 80 far from Italy removed, 
I ne'er again shall see her.] O thou mil 
Of Naples and of Milan, what strange i 
Hath nuule his meal on thee? 

Fran. Sir, he ma, 

I saw him beat the surges under him, 
And lide upon their backs; he trod the 
Wliose enmity he flung aside, and breai 
The surge most swoln that met him; hi 

head 
'Bove the contentious waves he kept, ant 
Himself with his good arms in lusty at 
To the shore,that o'er his wave- worn basis 
As stooping to relieve him: I not doubi 
He came alive to land. 

Alon. No, no, he 's gc 

Seb, Sir, you may thank yourself ft 
great loss. 
That would not bless our Europe witl 
daughter. 



* Hate, reckoning. 



ACT II. Scene 1. 



THE TEMPEST. 



ACT II. Scene 1. 



> 



But ratiier lose her to an African; 125 

[Where she, at least, is banished from your eye, 
Who hath cause to wet the grief ou 't. 
AUm, Piithee, peace. 

6'e&. You were kueel'd to, and imjMrtun'd 
otherwise, 
JBy ail of us; and the fair soul herself 
^eigh'd, between loathness and obedience, at 
"Which end o' the beam she 'd bow.] We have 
lost your son, isi 

J fear, for ever; [Milan and Naples have 
JMore widows in them of this business' making 
"jThan we bring men to comfort them:] 
IThe fault 's your own. 

Alon, So is the dear'st o* the loss. 
(lon. My Lord Sebastian, 

'-I'he truth you speak doth lack some gentleness, 
-And time to speak it in: you rub the sore, 
"When you should bring the plaster. 

\Jith. Very well 

A)\t, And most chirurgeonly. iw 

Gon. It is foul weather in us all, good sir, 
VMieu you are cloudy.^ 

iS'c6. Foul weather I 

Ant. Very foul. 

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

AiU, He 'd sow 't with nettle-seed. 

ikh. Or df^ks, or mallows. 

6*0/1. And were the king on 't, whiit would 

I do? 
iSfe6. Scape being drunk for want of wine. 
(ion, V the commonwealth 1 would by con- 
traries ' , 
Execute all things; for no kind of traffic 
■ Would I admit; no name of magistrate; 149 
; Letters should not be known; riches, poverty. 
And use of service, none; contract, succession. 
Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none; 
No use of metal, com, or wine, or oil; 
No occupation; all men idle, all; 
'And women too, — but innocent and pure; 
:Nu sovereignty, — 

; *S!rf». Yet he would be king on 't 

; Ant, The latter end of his commonwealth 
,! forgets the beginning. 

) Qol^. All things in common nature should 
\ produce 159 

'Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony, 

1 Cloudy, gloomy. 



Swoixl, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine. 
Would I not have; but nature should bring 

forth. 
Of its own kind, all foison,^ all abundance, 
To feed my iimocent people. 

Sd>, No marrying 'mong his subjects? 

Ant. None, man; all idle, — whores and 
knaves. 

G(yn. I would with such perfection govern, sir, 
To excel the golden age. 

*Seb. Save his majesty! 

A7U. Long live Gronzalo! 

Oon. And, — do you mark me, sir? — 

Alon. Piithee, no more: thou dost talk, 
nothing to me. i7i : 

Oon. 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. ', 

Ant. T was you we laugh'd at 

Gon. WTio in this kind of merry fooling am 
nothing to you: s^) you may continue, and 
laugh a^; nothing still. 

Ant. Wliat a blow was there given! I80 

Seb. An * it had not fallen flat-long. 

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

Enter Ariel, invisible; solemn music playing. ' 

Seb. We would so, and then go a bat-fowling.] 
Ant. Nay, good my lord, be not angry. 
Oon. No, I warrant you; I will not adven- 
ture my discretion so weakly. Will you laugh 
me asleep, for I am very heavj-? 
Ant. Go sleep, and hear ua 190 

[All sleep except AlonsOj Sebastian, and 
Antonio. 
Alon. What, all so soon asleep! I wish mine 
eves 
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 oflfer of it: 
It seldom visits sonx)w; when it doth, 
It is a comforter. 



s Foisoti, plenty. 



* SentibU, sensitive. 
203 



« An, if. 



ACT II. Scene 1. 



THE TEMPEST. 



ACT II. 



Ant. We two, my lord, 

Will goard your person while you take your rest, 
And watch your safety. 
Alon. Thank you. — Wondrous heavy. 

[AloMO sleeps. Exit Ariel. 

Seb. What a strange drowsiness possesses 

them! 199 

x\nt. It is the quality o' the climate. 

Seb. Why 

Doth it not, then, our eyelids sink ] I find not 

Myself disposed to sleep. 

Ant. Nor I; my spirits are nimble. 

They fell together all, as by consent; 
They dropped, as by a thunder-stroke. What 

might, 
Wortliy Sebastian, — O, what might? — No 

more: — 
And yet methinks I see it in thy face. 
What tlum shouldst be: the cxicasion sjjeakH 

thee; and 
My strong imagination sees a crown 208 

Dropping upon thy head. 
8eb. What, art thou waking? 

Ant. Do you not hear me speak i 
;, 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 
Witli eyes wide open ; standing, speaking, 

moving. 
And yet so fast asleep. 

Ant. Noble Sebastian, 

.Thou lett'st thy fortune sleep, — die, rather; 

wink'st 
Whiles thou art waking. 

Seb. Thou dost snore distinctly; 

There 's meaning in thy snores. 

A itt. I am more serious than my custom : you 
Must be so too, if heed me;^ which to do 220 
Trebles thee o'er. 

Seb. Well, I am standing water. 

Ant. I '11 teach you how to flow. 
Seb. Do so: to ebb 

Hereditary sloth instructs me. 

AiU. O, 

If you but knew how you the purf>ose cherish 
Whiles thus you mock it I how, in stripping it, 
. You more invest it I Ebbing men, indeed. 



i If heed me, i.e. If you heed me. 
204 



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

«SV6. ] Prithee, aay o 

The setting of tliine eye and cheek prodaiii 
A matter from thee; aiid a birth, indeed, 3 
Which throes thee much to yield. 

Ant. Thus, dr 

Although this lord of weak remembraiu 

this, — 
Who shall be of as little memory 
When he is earth'd, — hath here almost pc 

suaded, — 
[ For he 's a spirit of persuasion, only ] 
Professes to persuade,* — the king his son 

alive, — 
T is as impossible that he 's undrown'd 
As he that sleeps here' swims. 

Seb. 1 have no ho] 

That he 's undrown'd. 

Ant. O, out of that " no hope 

What great hope have you! [no hoi>e, th 

way, is 2 

Another way so high a hope that even 
Ambition cannot pierce a wink^ beyond. 
But doubt discoveiy there. ] Will you grai 

with me 
That Fenliiiand is dix)wn'd ? 

Seb. He 's gone. 

Ant. ' Then, tell m 

Who 's the next heir of Naples? 
Seb. ClaribeL 

Ant. She that is queen of Timis; she thi 

dwells 
Ten leagues beyond man's life; [ she that froi 

Naples 
Can have no note,^ unless the sun were post,- 
Theman-i'-the-moon's too slow, — till uew-boi 

chins 
Be rough and razorable; she from whom s 
We all were sea-swallow'd, though some cm 

again; 
And, by that destiny, to perform an act 
Whereof what 's past is prologue; what to com* 
In yours and my discharge. 

Seb. What stuff is this! — How say yon 
T is true, my brother's daughter 's queen < 

Tunis; 

3 Only pwfeseet to pertuad^, penuarion is hli only pr 
fession. 
s 1l'uiJk=Bniallett ipaoe. * Noie^ infonnalfoa 



ACT* IL Boast 1. 



THE TEMPEST. 



ACT II. Scene 1. 



; So is she heir of Naples; 'twixt which regions 
Tlmc^re is some s|>ace. 

-=1-^.] A space whose every cubit 

Seents to cry out, " How shall tliat Claribel 
MeAsore us back to Naples? Keep in Tunis, 
Aiid let Sebastian wake I" — Say, this were 
death 260 

TlLat now hath seiz'd them; why, they were 

no worse 
Than now they are. There be that can rule 

Naples 
As ^'ell as he that slee])s; [lords that can prate 
As amply and unnecessarily 
As this Gonzalo; I myself could make 
A chough of as deep chat. ] O, that you bore 
The mind that I do! what a sleep were this 
For your advancement I Do youunderatand me? 
Seb. Methinks I do. 

Ant, And how does your content 

Teuder your own good fortune? 

^b. I remember 

^"ou did supplant your brother Prospero. 

Ant. True: 

-=^iiil look how well my garments sit upon me; 
^uch feat«r^ than before: my brother's ser- 
vants 273 
W'ere then my fellows; now they are my men, 
*^'eb. But, for your conscience, — 
Ant, Ay, sir; where lies that? if 'twere a 
kibe,2 
■^ ^ould i)ut me to my slipper: but I feel not 
**^ deity in my bosom: twenty consciences, 
^^'^t stand 'twixt me and Milan, candied ^ be 

they, 
^>icl melt, ere they molest! Here lies your 
brother, 280 

f^ o better than the earth he lies upon, 
*' he were that which now he's like, that's 

dead; 
'^hom I, with this obedient steel, three inches 

Z^^ lay to bed for ever; whiles you, doing thus, 
ip the perpetual wink for aye might put 
^■^'8 ancient morsel, Uiis Sir Prudence, who 
^hould not upbraid our course. [ For all the 

' ^^y '11 take suggestion^ as a cat laps milk; 



^•nter, more trimly. 

^ndied, congealed. 

^^WMtion, promptiDg. temptation. 



Kibe, a sore lieeL 



They '11 tell the clock to any business tliat J 
We say befits the hour. ] ' 

Seb. Thy case, dear friend, 

Shall be my precedent; as thou gott'st Milan, 

I '11 come by Naples. Draw thy sword : one 

sti*oke 292 

Shall free thee from the tribute which thou 

l>ay'st; 
And 1 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. [Thet/ converse apart, 

Mrisic. Re-etUer Ariel, invisible. 

Ari. My master through his art foresees the 
danger 
That you, his friend, are in; and sends me 

forth, — 
For else his project dies, — to keep them living. 

[Sings in (Jomalo^s ear. 

While you here do snoring lie, 300 

Open«ey'd conspiracy 

His time doth take. 
If of life you keep a care, 
Shake off slumber, and beware: 

Awake, Awake! 

Ant. Then let us both be sudden. 
Oon. [ Waking] Now, g(X)d angels 

Preserve the king I 
[To Sebastian and Antonio] Why, how now! — 

[To Alonso] Ho, awake I — 
[To Sebastian and Antonio] Why are you 
drawn? Wherefore this ghastly looking? 
Alon. [^Yaking] What's the matter? 
Seb. Whiles we stood here securing your 
repose, 3io 

Even now, w^e heard a hollow burst of bel- 
lowing 
Like bulls, or lather lions: did't not wake you? 
It struck mine ear most terribly. 
Alon. I heard nothing. 

^Ant. 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. ] ; 

Alon. Heard you this, Gronzalo? 

Gon. Upon mine honour, sir, I heard a 
hunmiing, 
And that a strange one too, which did awake me : 

205 



THE TEMPEST. 



ict II. E 



I Bhak'd you, sir, and cried : as mine eyes 

I saw tUeir weapons drawn :— there was a noise. 
That 'a verily. T is beat we atiuid upon our 

Or tliat we quit this place : let 's draw our wea. 



Alon. Lead off this ground;. Mid let's make 
further seatth 
For my poor son. 
Oon, Heavens keep him from these 
beasts! 
For he is, sure, J' the island. 

Alon. Lead away. [Exit mth tkt otkert^ 




tth-Mke amd] ; a kluil 



Art. Frospero uiy lord sbaU know what I 

liave clone ;^ 3M 

So, king, go safely on t« seek thy son. [£ni. 

Scene II. Anoth/tr part of ike uland. 

filter Calibah wricA a burden of wood. A itoiie 

tif thunder Iteard. 

Cat. All the infectious that the sun sucks up 

Fium bogs, tens, Data, on Prosper tall, and 

make him 
By inch-meal> a disease! His spirits hear me, 

1 Byi iiidi-meal. Inch hj lucb. 



And yet I needs must curse. But they 'U 
Fright me with urchin-ahows, pitch 



the 



Nor lead me, like a firebrand, in the dark 
Out of my way, imlesa he bid 'em: but 
For every trifle are they set upon me; » 

Sometime like apes, thatmow and cbatteratnw, 
Aud after bite nie; then like hedgehogs, which 
Lie tumbling in my barefoot way, and mount 
Their pricks at ray footfall; sometime am I 
All wound with adders, who with cloven 

Do hiss me into madness. — Lo, now, lol 



ACT II. Soeae 2. 



THE TEMPEST. 



ACT II. 8oeu« 2. 



Here comes a spirit of his; aiid to torment me 
For bringing wood in slowly. I '11 fall flat; 
Perchance he will not mind me. [Lies down. 

Enter Trinculo. 

Triti, Here 's neither bush nor shrub, to bear 

off any weather at all, and another storm brew- 

^ng; I hear it sing i' the wind : yond same black 

cloud, yond huge one, looks like a foul bom- 

^rd^ that would shed his liquor. If it should 

thunder as it did before, I know not where to 

btlcle my head: yond same cloud cannot choose 

wt fall by pailfuls. — What have we here? a 

ttia.li or a lish ? dead or alive ? A fish : he smells 

lik^* a tish; a very- ancient and fish-like smell; 

* kind of, not of the newest, Poor-Jolm.* A 

strange fish ! Were I in England now, as once 

I vas, and had but this fish painted, not a 

holiday fool there but would give a piece of 

'silver: there would this monster make a man; 

L«iiiy strange beast there makes a man:] when 

tliev will not give a doit to relieve a lame l)eg- 

gar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian. 

Legg'd like a maul iiud his fins like arms! 

Warm, o' my troth ! I do now let loose my 

<>l»iniou, hold it no longer, — this is no fish, but 

^ islander, that hath lately suffered by a 

tliimderbolt [Thiuid^r.'] Alas, the storm is 

fonie again I my best way is to creep under 

lu8 gaberdine; there is no other shelter here- 

al>)ut: misery acquaints a man with strange 

hed-fellows. I will here shroud ' till the dregs 

of the storm be past. 43 

[Creeps under Ccdiban^s garment. 



EtiUr Stephano, singing; a bottle in his hand. 

*Ste. I shall no more to sea, to sea. 
Here shall I die a-shore, — 

This is a very scurvy tune to sing at a man's 

funeral: well, here's my comfort. [Drinks. 

The master, the swabber,* the boatswain, and I, 

The gunner, and his mate, 
Loy'd Mall, Meg, and Marian, and Margery, 60 
But none of us car'd for Kate; 
For she had a tongue with a tang,' 
Would cry to a sailor. Go hang ! 



1 Bombard, a Urge flagon. 

i Puor-John, bake flth dried and salted. 

> Shroud, take shelter. 

* Steahber, cue who mops the deck of a ship. 

* Tang, twang. 



She lov'd not the savour of tar nor of pitch; 
Yet a tailor might scratch her where'er she did itch. 
Then, to sea, boys, and let her go hang! 

This is a scurvy tune too: but here's my 
comfort [Drinks. 

CaL Do not torment me: — O ! 68 

Ste. What's the matter? Have we devils 
here? Do you put tricks upon 's with savages 
and men of Ind, ha? I have not scap'd drown- 
ing, 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 ! 

^te. This is some monster of the isle with 
four legs, who hath got, as I take it, an ague. 
Where the devil should he learn our hinguage ? 
I will give him some relief, if it be but for 
that. If I can recover him, and keep him tame, 
and get t<.> Naples with him, he 's a present for 
any emperor that ever trod on neat's-leather. 

Cal. Do not torment me, prithee; I '11 bring 
my wood home faster. 75 

aSY^. He 's in his fit now, and does not talk 
after the wisest. He sliall taste of mv l>ottle: 
if he liave never drunk wine afore, it will go 
near to remove his fit. If I can recover him, 
and keep him time, I will not take too much 
for him ; he shall pay for him that hath him, 
and that soundly. 

Cal. Thou dost me yet but little hurt; thou 
wilt anon, I know it by thy trembling: now 
Prosjjer works upon thee. 84 

Ste. Come on your ways; open your mouth; 
here is tliiit which will give language to you, 
cat: oi)en your mouth; this will shake your 
shakin<;, I can tell you, and that soundly 
[cfives Calilxin drink]', you cannot tell who'n 
your friend: open your chaps ag;iin [<;//yv 
Cali/nin drink], 

Trin. I should know that voice: it should 
be — but he is drown'd; and these are devils: 
— O, defend me ! 02 

Ste. Four legs and two voices, — a most deli- 
cate monster ! His f orwanl voice, now, is to 
speak well of his friend; his backward voice 
is to utter foul speeches and to detract. If all 
the wine in my Iwttle will recover him, I will 
help his ague. — [Gives Caliban drink.] Come, 

207 



ACT II. Scene 2. 



THE TEMPEST. 



ACT II. Scene 2. 



— Amen! I will pour some in thy other 
mouth. 

Trin. Stephano! — lOO 

Ste. Doth thy other mouth call me ? — Mercy, 
mercy ! This is a devil, and no monster: I will 
leave him; I have no long spoon. 

Trin, Stephano!— if thou beest Stephano, 
touch me, and speak to me; for I am Trinculo, 
— be not afeai*d, — thy good friend Trin- 
culo. 

Ste. If thou beest Trinculo, come forth: I *11 
pull thee by the lesser legs: if any be Trin- 
culo^s legs, these ai-e they. [Draws Trinculo 
out by the legs from luuier Caliban^s garnientJ] 
— Thou art very Trinculo indeed ! How earnest 
'thou to be the siege* of this moon-calf'?* [can 
^he vent Trinculoa?] ill 

Trin, I took him to be killed with a thun- 
der-stroke. — But art thou not drown'd, Ste- 
phano? I hope, now, thou art not drown'd. 
Is the storm overblown? I hid me under the 
dead moon-calfs gaberdine for fear of the 
storm. And art thou living, Stepliano? O 
Stephano, two Neapolitans scap'd ! 

Ste, Prithee, do not turn me about; my 
stomach is not constant. 

Cat. [Aside] These be fine things, an if they 
be not sprites. 120 

That 's a brave god, and bears celestial liquor: 
I will kneel to him. 

tSte. How didst tliou scape? How camest 

thou hither? swear, by this bottle, how thou 

camest hither. I escapM \i])ou a butt of sack, 

which the sailors heaveil o'erboard, by this 

'bottle I [which I made of the bark of a tree 

'/with mine own hands, since I was cast 

' ashore. 128 

' Cal, 1 '11 swear, upon tliat bottle, to be thy 

(true subject; for the liquor is not earthly.] 

tSte, Here; swear, then, how thou escap'dst. 

Trin. Swam ashore, man, like a duck: I can 
swim like a duck, I '11 be swora. 

tSfe, Here, kiss the lx)ok [gives Trinculo 
drinJc]. Though thou canst swim like a duck, 
thou !irt made like a goose. 

Trin. O Stepliano, hast any more of 
this? 

Ste. Tlie whole butt, man: my cellar is in 



1 Siegtt excrement. 



s Moon-calf t abortion. 



a rock by the sea-side, where my wine is hid. 
— How now, moon -calf I how does thuie 
ague? 139 

Cal. Hast thou not dropped from heaven ? 

Ste. Out 0' the moon, I do assure thee : I 
was the man-i'-the-moon when time was. 

Cal. I have seen thee in her, and I do adore 
thee: 
My mistress show'd me thee, and thy dog, and 
thy bush. 

Ste. Come, swear to that; kiss the book: — 
I will funiish it anon with new contents: — 
swejir. [Gives Caliban drink. 

Trin. By this good light, this is a very shal- 
low monster ! — I afeard of him ! — a very weak 
monster: — the man-i'-the-moon ! — a moat poor 
creihilous monster ! — Well drawn, monster, in 
good sooth. 130 

Cal. I '11 show thee every fertile inch o' the 
island; 
And I'll kiss thy foot: I prithee, be my 
god. 

Trin. By this light, a most perfidious and 
drunken monster ! when 's god 's asleep, he '11 
rob his bottle. 

Cal. I '11 kiss thy foot; I '11 swear myself thy 
subject. 

Ste. Come on, then; down, and swear. 

Trin, I shall laugh myself to death at this 
puppy-headed monster : a most scurvy mon- 
ster! I could find in my heart to beat 
him, — 160 

Ste, Come, kiss. [Gives Caliban drink, 

Trin. But that the poor monster 's in drink : 
an abominable monster ! 

Cal. I'll show thee the best springs; I'll 
pluck thee berries; 
I '11 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 wondrous man. 

Trin. A most ridiculous monster, to make a 
wonder of a poor drunkard ! iro 

Cal. I prithee, let me bring thee where crabs 
grow; 
And I with my long nails will dig thee pig- 
nuts; 
Show thee a jay's nest, and instruct tliee 
how 



208 



THE TEMPEST. 



ACT m. t 



To snare the nimble niarmoeet; I '11 bring thee 
To elustenng filberts, aiid Hometinies I '11 get 

thee ITS 

Toung scaniela from the rock. Wilt thou go 

witli me? 



Ste. I prithee now, lead the vtty, without 
nay more talking.— Trineiilo, the king and all 
our company elae being drown'd, we will in- 
herit here. Here, bear my bottle: fellow 
Trinculo, we '11 fill him by and by again. 




To/. [Sini/» dnmixnlff] Farcwelt, maater; fiirc- 



irell, fan 



Tell! 



Trio. A bowling mon«ter; a dniukeu a 

Cat. Ho more dams I '11 make far RbIi; 
Nor fetch in firing 
At requiring^ 



^Freedom, hey-dayl hey-day, freedom! free-J 

(iom, hey-day, freedom! iKlJ 

Ste. U btaTe monatert lead the way,] i 



ScBSE L Be/ore Protpero't ceti. 
Enter Fzkdisasd, bearing a log. 

e painful, and 

Delight iu them sets off: some kindaof baaeneas 
Are nobly undergone; and most poor matters 
Point to rich ends. This my mean task 
Would be as heavy to me aa odioua, but 
The mistress which I serve quickena what's 

And makes my labours pleasures: O, she is 
Ten times more gentle than her father's 
crabbed, — 

TOL. VIL 



And he's compos'd of harshness! I must re- 
Some thousands of these logs, and pile them up. 
Upon a sore injunction: my aweet mistresB 
Weeps when she sees me work ; and iviya such 

baseness 
Had never like executor. I foi;get: 
But these sweet thoughts do even refresh my 

Most busiest when I do it 

Enter Miranda; and Probpero behind. 

Mir. Alas, now, pray yon, 

Work not so bard : I would the lightning had 



ACT m. Scene 1. 



THE TEMPEST. 



ACT III. Soene 1. 



Burnt up those logs that you are enjoin'd to 

pile! 
Pray, set it down, and rest you: [when this 

bums, 

Twill weep for having wearied you.] My 
father 19 

Is hard at study; pray, now, rest yourself: 
He '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. 

Mir. If you 11 sit down, 

I '11 bear your logs the while : pray, give me 

that; 
I '11 carry 't to the pile. 

Fer. No, precious creature; 

I had rather crack my sinews, break my back, 
Thau you should such dishonour undergo. 
While I sit lazy by. 

Mir. It would become me 

As well as it does you: and I should do it 
With much more ease; for my good will is 
to it, 30 

And yours it is against. 

\Pro8. [Aside] Poor worm, thou art infected! 
IThis visitation shows it. 

Mir. ] You look wearily. 

Fer. No, noble mistress; 'tis fresh morning 
with me 
When you are by at night. I do beseech you, — 
Chiefly tliat I might set it in my prayers, — 
What is your name? 

Mir. Miranda. — O my father, 

I have broke your hest^ to say so! 

Fer. 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 
I The harmony of their tongues hath into bond- 
age 41 
^Brought my too diligent ear: for several' 

virtues 

Have I lik'd several women; never any 
I 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 (>eerle8s, are created 
Of every creature's best! 

1 Hett, command. * Several, separate. * Oif'd, owned. 

210 



Mir. . [ I do not know 

One of my sex; no woman's face remember, 
Save, from iuy glass, mine own; nor have I : 
seen so;' 

More tliat I may call men, than you, good^ 

friend, 
And my dear father: how features are abroad, i' 
I am skilless 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 pre- 
cepts 
I therein do forget. 

Fer. I am, in my condition, 

A prince, Miranda; I do think, a king, — 60 
I would not so! — [and would no more endure ; 
This wooden slavery than to suffer 
The flesh-fly blow my mouth.] Hear my soul ' 

speak : 
The very instant that I saw you, did 
My heart fly to your service; there resides, 
To make me slave to it; and for your sake 
Am I this patient log-man. 

Mir. Do you love me ? 

Fer. O heaven, O earth, bear witness to this 
sound. 
And crown what I profess with kind event, 
[If I speak true! if hollowly, invert 70 

What best is boded me to mischief I ] I, 
Beyond all limit of what else* i' the world, 
Do love, prize, honour you. 

Mir. I am a fool 

To weep at what I am glad of. 

Pros. [Aside] Fair encounter 

Of two most rare affections ! Heavens rain grace 
On that which breeds between 'em I 

Fer. Wherefore weep you ? 

Mir. At mine unworthiness, that dare not 
offer 
What I desire to give; and much less take 
What I shall die to want But this is trifling; 
And all the more it seeks to hide itself, 80 
The bigger bulk it shows. Hence, bashful 

cunning! 
And prompt me, plain and holy innocence! 
I am your wife, if you will marry me; 

* What eUe, whaterer else there may be. 



THE TEMPEST. 



ACT 111. e 



If not, I'll die your maid: to be your fellow' 
You maj deny me; but I'll be your serrant, 
Whether you will or no. 

Fer. My mistress, dearest; 

And I thua humbli! ever. 

ilir. My husband, then? 

Fer Aj with a heart as wilhng 
As bondage eer of freedom here a my hand. 



J/t>. And mine, with my heart iu't: and 
now farewell oo 

Till half an hour hence. 

Fer. A thousand thousand! 

[Extant Ferdinand and Miranda leitraltg. 
Pro*. So glad of this aa they I cannot be, 
"Who are surpria'd withai; but my rejoic- 




At nothing can be more. I 'U to my book; 
For yet, ere aupper-time, muat I perform 
Much buaiueaa appertaining. [Exit. 

ScENK II. Another part of the i*laiid. 

Enter Caliban, Stbphano, and Trinculo, 

mih a bottle. 

Ste. Tell not me; — when the butt is out, we 

-will drink water; not a drop before: there- 

1 FeUov, compuilcnL 



fore bear up, and board 'em. — Sen-ant-mou- 
ster, driuk to me. 

Trin. Servant-monster ; the folly of this 
ialand! They aay there's but five upon tins 
isle: we are three of them; if the other two 
be bnun'd like ua, the state totters. 

Stt: Drink, servant-monster, when I bid 

tliee: thy eyes are almost aet iii thy heait. lO 

[Caliban drinim. 

Trin. Where should they be set elsel he 
were a brave mouater indeed, if they were aet 
in bis tail 

211 



ACT III. Scene 2. 



THE TEMPEST. 



ACT IIL Scene 2. 



Ste, My man -monster hath drown'd his 
tongue in sack : for my part, the sea cannot 
drown me; I swam, ere I could recover the 
shore, five-and-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. 20 

Ste, We '11 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 '11 not serve him, he is not valiant. 

Trin, Thou liest, most ignorant monster I 
am in case to justle a constable. Why, thou 
debosh'd fish, thou, 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 tish and half a monster? 33 

Cal. Lo, how he mocks me ! wilt thou let 
him, my lord? 

Trin. " Lord," quoth he 1 — that a monster 
should be such a natural! 

Cal, Lo, lo, again I bite him to death, I 
prithee. 

JSte. 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 indignity. 42 

Cal. I thank my noble lord. Wilt thou be 
pleas'd to hearken once again to the suit I 
made to thee ? 

Ste, Many, will I: kneel and repeat it; I 
will stand, and so shall Trinculo. 

Enter Ariel, invisible, 

Cal, As I tokl thee before, I am subject to 
a tyrant, — a sorcerer, that by his cunning hath 
cheated me of the island. 50 

Art. Thou liest. 

Cal. Thou liest, thou jesting monkey, thou: 
I would my valiant master would destroy thee! 
I do not lie. 

tSte. Trinculo, if you trouble him any more 
in 's tale, by this hand, I will supplant some 
of your teeth. 

Trin, Why, I said nothing. 

212 



Ste. Mimi, then, and no more. — [To Cali- 
ban] Proceed. 

Cal, I say, by sorcery he got this isle; oo 
From me he got it If thy greatness will 
Revenge it on him, — for I know thou dar'st, 
But this thing dare not, — 

Ste, That 's most certain. 

Cal, Thou shalt be lord of it, and I '11 serve 
thee. 

Ste, How now shall this be compass'd? 
Canst thou bring me to the party? 

Cal, Yea, yea, my lord : I '11 yield him thee 
asleep, 
Where thou mayst knock a nail into his head. 

Aru Thou liest; thou canst not 70 

Cal, What a pied ninny's this! — Thou scurvy 
patch! ^— 
I do beseech thy greatness, give him blows, 
And take his bottle from him : when that's gone, 
He shall drink naught but brine; for I '11 not 

show him 
Where the quick freshes' are. 

Ste. Trinculo, run into no further danger: 
interrupt the monster one word further, and, 
by this hand, I '11 turn my mercy out o' doors, 
and make a stock-fish of thee. 

Trin, Why, what did I ? I did nothing. I '11 
go further off. 81 

Ste, Didst thou not say he lied? 

Ari. Thou liest 

Ste. Do I so? take thou that [striles Trin- 
culo]. As you like this, give me the lie an- 
other time. 

Trin, 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! 90 

Ste. Now, forward with your tale. — Prithee, 
stand further off. 

Cal. Beat him enough: after a little time, 
I '11 beat him too. 

Ste. Stand further. — Come, proceed. 

Ca^. Why, as I told thee, 'tis acustom with him 
I' the afternoon to sleep: then thou mayst 

brain him, 
Having first seiz'd his books; or with a log 
Batter his skull, or paunch him with a stake, 

1 Patch, tool * Quick fruhsi, ■pringi of freib water. 



ACT III. E 



THE TEMPEST. 



Or cut his wesaad ' with thy knife : remember, 
FitBt to poweaa his books; for without them 
He's but a sot,' as I am, nor hath uot loi 
One spirit tJ) command', thej all do hat« him 
As rootedly aa I: — bum but hia books. 

^[He has brov« utensilB,— for so he calls 

( them,— 



Which, when he has a house, he 11 deck withal : ( 
And that moat deeply to consider ia \ 

The beauty of his daughter; he himself J 

Oills her a nonpareil: I never saw a wonukD, < 
But only Sycomi my dam and she; \ 

But ahe as far surpasMth Sycorax iio< 

Aa great'st does least i 




J Stt. Is it BO brave a lass? 

i Cat. Ay, lord; she will become thy bed, I 
i warrant, 
( And bring thee forth brave brood. "2 ■ 

Sit. Monster, I will kill this man: his 
dauf^ter and I will be king and queen, — 
save our graces! — and Trinculo and thyself 
ahatl be viceroya— Dost thou like the plot, 
Trinculo? 

Trin. Excellent 

Ste. Give me thy hand: I am sony I beat 
thee; but, while thou livest, keep a good 
tongue in thy head. 121 

1 ITuBiut, wlodpipa. ■ Set. IdoL 



Cal. Within this half hour will he be asleep: 
Wilt thou destroy him theni 

•S^. Ay, on mine honour. 

An. This will I tell my master. 

Cal. Thou mak'st me merry; 1 am full of 
pleasure: 
Let ua be jocuiid: will 3rou troll the catch* 
You taught me but while-ere?* 

Ste, At thy request, monster, I will do rea- 
son, any reaaon.^Come on, Trinculo, let ua 
sing. [Sing*. 

Flout 'omand Mout'em,BTid*iiout 'emuidfiout 'em; 
Thought ia Iree. m 



ACT III. Seene 2. 

C'al. That's not the tune. 

[Ariel plai/i the tune tta a tahor and pipe. 

Ste. Wliutiatliiesome? 

Trio, This is the tune uf our ca^tch, play'd 
by the picture of Nobody. 

Ste. If thou beest a. man, ahow thyself in thy 
likeness: if thou beest a devil, take' t aa thou list. 

Trin. O, forgive me my sins! 



THE TEMPEST. 



AOriU. B 



Ute. He that dies pays all debts: I defy 
thee.— Mercy upon usi m 

Cal. Art thou afenrd? 

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 twangliug instruments 




: ears; and sometime 



Will hum about 

voices, 
That, if I then had wak'd after long sleep, 
Will niake me sleep again : and then, in 

dreaming. 
The clouds methought would open, and show 
riches \x 

Ready to drop upon me; that, when I wak'd, 
I cried to dream again. 

tite. This will prove a brave kiiigilom to nie, 
where I shall have my music for nothing. 
Cal. When Ppospero is destroy'd. 
Su. That shall be by and by: I remember 
the story. 

214 



Trill. The sound is going away ; let 's follow 
it, and after do uur work. 

Ste. Lead, monster; we'll follow. — 1 would 
I could see this laborer! he lays it on. it» 

Trtn. Wilt come? I '11 follow, Stephana 

[ExeurU. 

Scene III. Another part of the iiland. 

Enter Ahonao, Sbbastiah, Antokio, Gokzalo, 

Adriak, Fbancisoo, and olhen. 

Gon. By'r lakin,' I can go no further, sir; 



THE TEMPEST. 



^My old bon«8ache: Qiere'a a uiazetrod, indeed, 
'Through forth-righta' and meanders:] by 
your patience, 
I needs muat rest nie. 

AloH. Old liinl, I cannot blame thee, 

Who am myself attacli'cP with weariness, 
Tutfae dulling of my spirits: sit down,aud rent 



No longer for my flatterer: he is drown'd 
[Whom thus we stray to find; and the seat 

Our fniHtrBit« search on land. Well.lethimgD.]! 
Ant. [Atiile Co ^ebattian] I am' right glad 
that he 's bo out of hope. ii 

Do not, for one repulse, forgo the jiurpose 



Even here 1 will put off my hope, and keep it I That you reaolv'd to effect. 




Seb. [Atide to Antonio] Tlie next advan- 
tage 
Will we take thoroughly. 

Anl.[AndetoSd>ii^iaii] Let it be to-night; 
For, now they are oppress'd with travel, 

they 
Will not, they cannot, use such vigilance 
Aa when they are fresh. 

Sd. [Aiide to Antonio] I say, to-night: no 

more. [Solemn and tlranffe miaic. 

Alon. What harmony is this?— My good 

friends, hark! 
6'oii. Marvellous sweet music! 



Enter Prospero above, tnvitibU. Enter beloa, 
teveral ttrange Shapet, bringing in a ban- 
quet; they dance abovt it mtk gentle action* 
of ialutationi and, inviting the King, Sc. 
to eat, theij depart. 
Alon. Give uh kind keepers, heavens! — 
What were these? «i 

[Se*. A living drollery.' Now I will be- J 
lieve 5 

That there are unicorns; that in Arabia ] 

There is one tt«e, the phoenii' throne; one! 
ph<euix 

At this hour reigning there. ) 

'i>ro(fer», 



ACT III. Seene 8. 



THE TEMPEST. 



ACT III. Soeae 3. 



Ant. I'll believe both; 

I And what does else want credit, come to 

me, 
lAnd I'll be swoni 'tis true: travellers ne'er 

did lie, 
[Though fools at home condemn 'em. 

Gon. If in Naples 

I should report this now, would they believe 

me? 

If I should say, I saw such islanders, — 
For, certes, these are people of the island, — 
I Who, though they are of monstrous shape, yet, 
note, 31 

I Their manners are more gentle-kind than of 
I Our human generation you shall find 
I Many, nay, almost any. 

Pros. [Aside] Honest lord, 

I Thou hast said well; for some of you there 

present 
I Are worse than devils. 

Alon, I cannot too much m.use^ 

Such shapes, such gesture, and such sound, 

expressing — 
Although they want the use of tongue — a kind 
Of excellent dumb discourse. 

Pros. [Aside] Praise in departing. ] 

Fran. They vanish'd strangely. 
Seb. No matter, since 

They have left their viands behind; for we 
have stomachs. — 4i 

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 moun- 
taineers 
Dew-lapp'd like bulls, whose throats had 

hanging at 'em 
! Wallets of flesh? or that there were such 

men 
Whose heads stood in their breasts? which 

now we find 
< Each putter-out of five for one will bring us 
sGood warrant of. ] 

Alon. 1 will stand to, and feed, 

Although my last: no matter, since I feel so 
The best is past. — Brother, my lord the duke. 
Stand to, and do as we. 

1 Mute, wonder at. 
216 



^ 



Thunder and lightning. Enter Ariel, like ck 
harpy; daps his mngs npon the table; ancH, 
with a quaint device, the banquet vanishes. 

Ari. You are three men of sin, [| whom Dea- ] 
tiny,— ^ 

That hath to instrument this lower world 
And what is in 't, — the never-surfeited sea ^ 
Hathcaus'd to belch up you; and on this island, ;; 
Where man doth not inhabit, — you 'mongst^' 
men ^ 

Being most unfit to live. I have made you mad ; \ 
And even with such-like valour men hang and ^ 
drown ^ 

Their proper selves. ^ 

[Alonso, SebastiofHy dtc draw their swords- , 
You fools! I and my fellows j 
Are ministers of Fate: the elements, 6i / 

Of whom your swords are tempered, may as well ; - 
Wound the loud winds, or with bemock'd-at s 

stabs 
Kill the still-closing waters, as diminish ;'* 

One dowle* that's in my plume: my fellow- .' 

ministers 
Are like' invulnerable. 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; 70 
Expos'd unto the sea, which hath requit it, 
Him and his innocent child: for which foul 

deed 
[The powers, delaying, not forgetting, have J 
Incens'd the seas and shores, yea, all the crea- 
tures, 

Against your peace. Thee of thy son, Alonso, > 
They have bereft; and do pronounce, by me,3> 
Lingering perdition — [| worse than any death > 
Can be at once — ^^ ^^^ <^^P ^X '^P <^ttend ) 
You and your ways; whose wraths to guard 

you from, — 
Which here, in this most desolate isle, else 
falls 80 

Upon your heads, — is nothing but hearts- 
sorrow 
And a clear life ensuing. 



5 



s DoteU, fibre of down. 



•LOtf, alike. 



kCT UL Scene 3. 



THE TEMPEST. 



ACT IV. Scene 1. 



\ 



He vanishet in thunder; then, to soft mttsic, 
enter the Shapes agaiuj and dance with 
mocks and mowSy and carry out the table, 

^Proi. \Atide'\ Bravely the figure of this 
harpy hast thou 
^^Perform'd, my Ariel; a grace it had, devouring: 
/Of my iustruction hast thou nothing bated 
/In what thou hadst to say: so, with good life, 
i And observation strange, my meaner ministers 
< Their several kinds have done. My high 
J charms work, 

[And these, mine enemies, are all knit up 
I In their distractions: they now are in my 
; power; 90 

[And in these fits I leave them, while I visit 
J Young Ferdinand, — whom they suppose is 
) drown'd, — 

[And his and mine lov'd darling. [Exit above. 
\ Gon. V the name of something holy, sir, 
!' why stand you 
iln this strange stare? 



Alon, 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, pronounced ( 
The name of Prosper: it did bass^ my trespass. ; 
Therefore my son i' the ooze is bedded; and j 
I'll seek him deeper than e'er plummet' 
sounded, lOi ; 

And with him there lie mudded. [Exit. \ 

Seb, But one fiend at a time, ; 

I 'U fight their legions o'er. ; 

AjU, I '11 be thy second. ; 

[Exeunt Sebastian and Antonio. \ 

Gon. All three of them are desperate: their | 
great guilt, ', 

Like poison given to work a great time after, \ 
Now gins to bite the spirits. — I do beseech you, 1 
That are of suppler joints, follow them swiftly. 
And hinder them from what this ecstasy' \ 
May now provoke them to. [ 

Adr. Follow, I pray you.] [Exeunt. 



ACT IV. 



Scene I. Before Prosperous cell. 

^fUer pRosPERO, Ferdinand, ajid Miranda. 

Pros. If I have too austerely punish'd you. 
Your compensation makes amends; for I 
Have given you here a thread of mine own life, 
(Or that for which I live: [| who once again 
(I tender to thy hand: ] all thy vexations 
Were but my trials of thy love, and thou 
Hast strangely stood the test: here, afore 

Heaven, 
I ratify this my rich gift. O Ferdinand, 
Do not smile at me that I boast her ofi", 
For thou shalt find she will outstrip all praise. 
And make it halt behind her. 

Fer. 1 do believe it 

Against an oracle. 
Pros. Then, as my gift, and thine own 
acquisition 
J Worthily purchas'd, take my daughter: [but 
< If thou dost break her virgin-knot before 
^ All sanctimonious ceremonies may 
i With full and holy rite be minister'd, 



No sweet asperaion^ shall the heavens let fall 
To make this contract grow; but barren hate, 
Sour-e/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 't is now,— the murkiest den. 
The most opportune place, the strong'st sug- 
gestion 
Our worser Genius can,* shall never melt 
Mine honour into lust; to take away 
The edge of that day's celebration, 
When I shall think, or Phoebus' steeds are 
founder'd, 80 

Or Night kept chain'd below. 

Pros. Fairly spoke. ] 

Sit, then, and talk with her; she is thine own. — 
What, Ariel! my industrious servant, Ariel! 



1 Aim, ntter in a deep tone. < Ecstasy, madneM. 
* Atpenion, sprinkling. * Can, %.€. ii able to make. 

217 



I 



ACT IV. Soene 1. 



THE TEMPEST. 



ACT IV. Sone 



Enter Ariel. 

ArL What would my potent master? here 

I am. 
Proi, Thou and thy meaner fellows your 
last service 
Did worthily perform; and I must use you 
In such another trick. Go bring the rabble, 
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 40 
Some vanity^ of mine art: it is my promise, 
And they expect it from me. 
Ari Presently? 

Pros, 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, 
Will be here with mop and mow. 
Do you love me, master? no? 
<' Pros. Dearly, my delicate Ariel. [[ Do not 
< approach 49 

[ Till thou dost hear me call. 
' Ari. Well, I conceive. [Exit. 

Pros. 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.* 
\ Pros. Well— 

J Now come, my Ariel! ] bring a corollary,* 
Bather than want a spirit: appear, and 

pertly I • — 
No tongue; all eyes; be silent [Soft muiic 

Elite)' Iris. 

IrU. Ceres, most bounteous lady, thy rich leas 
Of wheat, rye, barley, yetches, oats, and pease; 61 
Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling sheep. 
And flat meads thatch'd with stoyer,^ them to keep; 
Thy banks with pioned and twilled brims, 
Which spongy April at thy best betrims. 
To make cold nymphs chaste crowns; and thy 
bixwm-groves, 

1 VarUty, Ulusion. 

t With a hrink, in a twinkling. 

» Oood n^ht your vote! i.e. farewell to your vow. 

* Liver, supposed to be the seat of love. 

* A corollary, a surplus. • Pertly, briskly 
' Stover, fodder for cattle. 

218 



Whose shadow the dismissed bachelor loves. 
Being lass-lorn ;' thy pole-clipt vineyard;* 
And thy soa-mai^e, sterile and rocky-hard. 
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 grac* 
Here on this grass-plot, in this very place, 
To come and sport: — her peacocks fly amain: 
Approach, rich Ceres, her to entertain. 

Enter Cerrs. 

Cer. Hail, many-colour'd messenger, that ne'w 
Dost disobey the wife of Jupiter; 
Wlio, with thy saffron wings, upon my flowers 
Diffuaest honey-drops, refrediing showers; 
And with each end of thy blue bow dost crown 1 
My bosky ^^ acres and my unshrubb'd down. 
Rich scarf to my proud earth; — why hath my que« 
Summon'd me hither, to this short-grass'd green! 

Iris. A contract of true love to celebrate; 
And some donation hvely to estate ^^ 
On the bless'd lovers. 

Cer. [Tell mo, heavenly bow, 

If Venus or her son, as thou dost know. 
Do now attend the queen ? Since they did plot 
The means that dudcy Dis^^ my daughter got. 
Her and her blind boy's scandal'd company 
I have forsworn. 

IrU. 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 ha 

done 
Some wanton charm upon this man and maid, 
Whose vows are, that no bed-right shall be paid 
Till Hymen's torch be lighted: but in vain; 
Man's hot minion is retum'd again; 
Her waspish-headed son has broke his arrows, ) 
Swears he will shoot no more, but play with sparrov> 
And be a boy right out. ^ 

Cer. High*st queen of state, 

Great Juno, comes; I know her by her gait 

Ehter Juno. 

Juno. How does my bounteous sister I Gk> with m* 
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. 

> Lau-lom, forsaken of his mistresa 

* PoU-dipt vineyard, vineyard where the poles ai 
dipt, or embraced, by the vines. Vineyard is pn 
nounced as a trisyllable. lo Bodry, woody. 

" Eetate, give as a po sses sion. u JHt, Pluto. 



ACT TV. Scene 1. 



THE TEMPEST. 



ACT IV. Scene 1. 



Oer, Earth's increase, foison plenty,^ 110 

Bams and gamers never empty; 
Vines with clustering bunches growing; 
Plants with goodly burden bowing; 
Spring come to you at the farthest 
In the very end of harvest! 
Scarcity and want shall shun you; 
Ceres* blessing so is on you. 

^er. This is a most majestic vision, and 
Harmonious charmingly. May I be bold 
"^^ think these spirits? 

f^ros. Spirits, which by mine art 

I have from their confines* call'd to enact lai 
^y present fancies. 

-^V. Let me live here ever; 

°o rare a wonder'd^ father and a wise 
^^kes this place Paradise. 

[Juno and Ceres ichisper, mid send Iris 
on employment, 
J^ros. Sweet, now, silence! 

L Juno and Ceres whisper seriously;] 
^ere^s something else to do; hush, and be 

mute, 
^r else our spell is marr'd. 

Iru. You lijrmphs, call'd Naiads, of the wan- 
dering brooks, 
With your sedg'd crowns and over-harmlcss looks. 
Leave your crisp channels, and on this green land 
Answer your summons; Juno does command: 131 
Come, temperate nymphs, and help to celebrate 
A contract of true love; be not too late. 

Enter certain S^ifvipfis. 

You sunburn'd sicklomen, of August weary. 
Come hither from the furrow, and be morr}': 
M^e holiday; your rye-straw hats put on. 
And these fresh nymphs encounter every one 
In country footing. ^ 

Enter certain Reapers^ properly habited; they 

join fcith the Nympks in a graceful daTice; 

towards the end whereof Prospero starts sud- 

^nly^ and speaks; after which, to a strange, 

^dlowj and confused noise, they heavily vanish, 

^r<tt. [Aside] I had forgot that foul con- 
spiracy 
Of the beast Caliban and his confederates 140 
Against my life: the minute of their plot 

Isalmort come.— [^o the Spirits] Well done; 
—avoid,* — no more. 

* ^MMnijtlenfy, i.e. plentiful abundance. 

* CbVWi. abodes. 

* Woitder'd, able to perform wonders. * Awrid, begone. 



Fer, This is strange: your father's in some 
passion^ 
That works him strongly. 

Mir, Never till this day 

Saw I him touched with anger so distempered* 

Pros, You do look, my son, in a mov'd sort, 
As if you were dismayed: 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: IM 

And, like the baseless fabric of this vision, 
The cloud-capp'd towers, the gorgeous palaces^ 
The solemn temples, the great globe itself, 
Yea, all which it inherit,^ shall dissolve. 
And, like this insubstantial ])ageant faded, 
Leave not a rack behind. We are such stuff 
As dreams are made on ;^ and our little life 
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: i6a 

If you be pleased, retire into my cell. 
And there repose: a turn or two I '11 walk. 
To still my beating mind. 

Fer. Mir. We wish your i)eace. [Exeunt^ 

Pros. [To Ariel] Ck)me with a thought! — 
I thank thee, Ariel: cornel 

Re-enter Ariel. 

Ari. Tliy thoughts I cleave to. What's thy 

pleasure ? 
Pros, Spirit, 

We must prepare to meet with® Caliban. 
Ari. Ay, my commander: when I presented 
Ceres, 
I thought to have told thee of it; but I feared 
Lest I might anger thee. 
Pros. Say again, where didst thou leave 
these varlets? 170 

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 
Towanls their project Then I beat my tabor; 
At which, like unback'd colts, they prick'd 
their ears, 

s PoMton, strong emotion. 

• Distemper'd, disturbed. ^ Inherit, possess. 

* On, of. * To meet loitht i.e, to encounter. 

219 



Advanc'd' their eyelids, lifted up their noses 
As they smelt music: so 1 charm'd their ears, 
Thftt, calf -like, they my lowing foUow'd through 
Tooth'd briers, sharp furzes, pricking goBS, and 
thorns, 130 

Which enter'd their frail shins: at last I left 



THE TEMPEST. act it. bcbh l 

I' the filthy-mantled poo! beyond your cell, 
[There dancing up to the cUns, that the foulr 
lake I 

O'eratunk their feet. "} ' 

Pro*. This was well done, my bird. 

Thy shape inrisible retain thou still: 
The tnimpery in my house, go bring it hither. 







7_^ 


^A 


*=^ 


^^^^3i 


^^ 


W''^^' 


^ 




^^^sM 


s^^Si 


* 


w 


i^^ 


^m- 






j^^fk'^ 


-" — 



For stale' 1 

AH. 

Pro>. A devil, a born di 
Nurture can never stick; 
Humanely taken, all 
And as with age " 
So hie mind canki 



catch these thieves. 

I go, I go. [Erit 
il, on whose nature 
n whom my pains, 
at, quite lost; IM 
body uglier grows, 
1 will plague them all, 



Even to roaring.— 



Re-eiiier Ariel, loadeti with ijliitering 
apparel, ttc. 



1 JdH«'iJ,.llftsil. 



■ Lint, Unw-tna. 



Prospbro and Ariel remain, invitiUt. Enter 
Caubam, Stbphano, a>u^ Teihcdlo, all tett. 

Cal. Pray you, tread softly, that the blind 
mole may not 
Hear a foot fall: we now are near his cell. 

.Ste. Monster, your fairy, which you any is 
a. hannlesB fairy, has done little better than 
play'd the Jack* with us. 

Trin, Monster, I do smell all horse-pias; at 
which my nose is in great indignation. nao 

Ste. So is mine. — Do you hear, monster F If 

* Tht Jact, th« Juk-o'-Untera. 



AC7X IV. Scene 1. 



THE TEMPEST. 



ACT IV. Scene 1. 



I sliould take a displeasure against you, look 
yoii,— 

^riiu Thou wert but a lost monster. 
€I'al. Good my lord, give me thy favour still. 
B^ patient, for the prize I '11 bring thee to 
SLk^lII hoodwink this mischance: therefore 

speak softly; — 
All 's hush'd as midnight yet 

^TWn. Ay, but to lose our bottles in the pool, — 
Ste, There is not only disgrace and dis- 
honour in that, monster, but an infinite loss. 

jHrin. That's more to me than my wetting: 
yet; this is your harmless fairy, monster. 212 
^ie, I will fetch off my bottle, though I be 
o'er ears for my labour. 

CVd. Prithee, my king, be quiet. See'st 
thou here, 
Tliis 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 
Woody thoughts. 220 

Trin. O King Stephano! O peer! O worthy 
Stephano! look what a wardrobe here is for 
thee! 
CaL Let it alone, thou fool; it is but trash. 
Trin, O, ho, monster! we know what be- 
longs to a frippery^. — O King Stephano! 

Ste, Put off that gown, Trinculo: by this 
I'wid, I 'Jl have that gown. 
Trin. Thy grace shall have it. 
C(d. The dropsy drown this fool! what do 
you mean 230 

To dote thus on such luggage? Let's alone, 
And do the murder first: if he awake. 
From toe to crown he 'U fill our skin with 

pinches, 
Make us strange stuff. 

Ste. Be you quiet, monster. — Mistress line, 
w not this my jerkin ? Now is the jerkin under 
the line: now, jerkin, you are like to lose your 
^, and prove a bald jerkin. 

1 Frippery, oId>clothes shop. 



Trin. Do, do: we steal by line and level, 
an 't like your grace. 240 

JSte. I thank thee for that jest; here 's a gar- 
ment for 't: wit shall not go unrewarded while 
I am king of this country. " Steal by line 
and level" is an excellent pass of pate; ^ there 's 
another garment for 't. 

Trin. Monster, come, put some lime^ upon 
your fingers, and away with the rest. 

Cal. I will have none on't: we shall lose 
our time. 
And all be turu'd to barnacles, or to apes 
With forehe^ids villanous low. 250 

Ste, Monster, lay- to your fingers: help to 
bear this away where my hogshead of wine 
is, or I '11 turn you out of my kingdom: go to, 
carry this. 

Trin. And this. 

Ste. Ay, and this. 

A noise of hunters heard. Enter divers SpiritSy 
in shape of dogs and hounds, and hunt 
them about, Prospero atid Ariel setting 
them on. 

Pros. Q Hey, Mountain, hey I 
Ari. Silver! there it goes, Silver! 
Pros. Fury, Fury! there. Tyrant, there! 
hark, hark ! ] 

[Caliban, Stephano, and Tnnculo are 
driven out. 
Go charge my goblins that they grind their 

joints 
With dry convulsions; shorten up their 
sinews 260 

With age<l cramps; and more pinch-spotted 

make them 
Than pard* or cat-o'-mountain.^ 

Ari. Hark, they roar I 

Pros. Let them be hunted soundl v. 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. [Exeunt, 

2 P<U8 of paXt^ aally of wit. 

» Limt, birdlime. 4 Pord, leopard. 

& Cai-o' 'VMmniain, wild cat 

221 



ACT V. Scene L 



THE TEMPEST. 



ACT V. Scene L 



ACT V. 



Scene I. Before the cell of Prospero. 

E^\ter Prospero in his magic rohes^ and Ariel. 

Pros, Now does my project gather to a head: 
My charms crack not; my spirits obey; aud 

Time 
Goes upright with his carriage.* How 's the day? 
Ari. On the sixth hour ; at which time, my loni, 
You said our work should cease. 

Pros, I did say so, 

When first I raised the tempest. Say, my spirit, 
How fares the king and 's followers? 

Ari, Confin'd together 

In the same fashion as you gave in charge, 

J [Just as you left them; all prisoners, sir, 

^In the line-grove 2 which weather-fends^ your 

5 cell ; ] 10 

Tliey cannot budge till your release.* The king, 

His brother, and yours, abide all three dis- 

tracte<l ; 
jQAnd the remainder mourning over them, 
Jl Brimful of sorrr)w and dismay; but chiefly 
^Him that you term'd, sir, **Tlie good old lord, 
\ Gonzalo;" 
^His tears run down his beard, like winter's- 

drojjs 
From eaves of reeds. ] Your charm so strongly 

works 'em. 
That if you now beheld them, your affections 
Would become tender. 

Pros, Dost thou think so, spirit? 

Ari, Mine would, sir, were I human. 
Pros, And mine shall. 

Hast thou, which art but air, a touch, a feeling 
Of their afflictions, and shall not myself, 22 
One of their kind, that relish all as sharply 
Passion as they, be kindlier mov'd than thou art ? 
Though with their high wrongs I am struck to 

the quick. 
Yet, with my nobler reason, 'gainst my fury 
Do I take fjart: the rarer action is 
In virtue than in vengeance: they being penitent, 

1 Goe» upright with hit earrioffe, bends not under his 
burden. a Line-grove, lime-grove. 

» Weather-fends, protects from the weather. 
* Till your release, till released by you. 

222 



The sole drift of my purpose doth extend S9 
Not a frown further. Go release them, Ariel: 
My charms 1 11 break, their senses 1 11 restore, 
And they shall be themselves. 

Ari. 1 '11 fetch them, sir. [Ex^. 

Pros, Ye elves of hills, brooks, standing 
lakes, and groves; 
And ye that on the sands with printless foot 
Do chase the ebbing Neptune, and do fly him 
When he comes back; you demi-puppets that 
By moonshine do the green-sour ringlets make, 
Whereof the ewe not bites; and you whose 

pastime 
Is to make midnight mushrooms, that rejoice 
To hear the solemn curfew; by whose aid — 
Weak masters though ye be — I have bedimm'd 
The noontide sun, call'd forth the mutinous 
winds, 42 

And 'twixt the green sea and the azur'd vault 
Set roaring war: to the dread-rattling thunder 
Have I given Are, and rifted Jove's stout oak 
With his own bolt : the strong-bas'd promon- 
tory 
Have I made shake ; and by the spurs^ pluck'd up 
The pine and cedar: graves at my command 
Have wak'd their sleeper8,op'd, and let 'em forth 
By my so potent art. But this rough magic 
I here abjure; and, when I have required 
Some heavenly music, — which even now I do, — 
To work mine end upon their senses that 
Tliis airy charm is for, I '11 break my staff, 
Bury it certain fathoms in the earth, 
And deeper than did ever plummet sound 
I '11 drown my book. [Solemn music 

Re-enter Ariel: after him^ Aloxso, unth a 
frantic gesture^ attended hy Gonzalo; 
Sebastian and Antonio in like manner^ 
attended by Adrian ajid Francisco: they 
all enter the circle which Prospero had 
madcj and there stand charmed; which 
Prospero observing, speaks, 

[[ A solemn air, and the best comforter 

To an unsettled fancy, cure thy brains, 59; 

s Spur*, the roots, projecting like spurs. 



THE TEMPEST. 
Ithiu thy skulli There 



ACT V. a 



>Xow umIms, boil'd 

'For you are spell-atopp'd. — ] 

Holy GouzaJo, honourable niAll, 

Uiue ejes, even sociable to the ahowof thine, 
>IV1 fellowly drope.'— [The uharm diwolves 

^And 18 the oioriung Bteala upon the night, 
^Melting the dnrknesa, ho tiieir rising seiwea 



Begin to chase the ignorant fumes that mantle J 
Their clearer reason, — good Gonzalo, 
M; true preoerver, nnd a loyal sir 
To hiai thou follow'st! I will jiay thy graces I 
Home both in word and deed.^Most cruelly < 
Didst thou, Alonso, use me and my daughter 
"Diy brother was a furtlierer iu the act, — 
Thou art pinch'd for 't now, Sebastian, flesl 
and blood. 




Tfou, brother mine, that eiitertain'd ambition, 
Eipell'd remorse* and nature; who, with 

Sebastian, — 
,"Hc«e inward pinches therefore are most 
rtrong, — 

lid here have kill'd your king; I do for- 
give thee, 
Dnnitural though thou art — Their under- 

•tandiug' 
"^luto swell; aud the approat-'hiiig tide 
,*ill shortly fill the reasonable shore, ei 

''^at now lies foul and muddy.] Not one of 

"W yet looks on me, or would know me :— 

Ariel. 
Lielch me tbe hat and rapier in my cell:—] 
[Exit Ariel. 



and myself present 
Milan: — quickly, spirit; 
long be free. 



I wiU 
AbIi 

Thou shalt 

Be-enter Ariel; mho tingt while helping to 
atlire Protpero. 
Where the bee sucka. there suck I: 
In a ccnnlip'i bell I lie; 
There I couch when owLi do cry. Ml 

On tbe bat's back I do Hy 
After aummor merrily. 
Merrily, merrily sha)) I lire now 
Under the blusfom that haxigs un the bough. 
Pi^. Why, that'll my dainty Ariel! I shall 
niiHS thee; 
But yet thou shalt have freedom : — so, so, so. — 
To the king's ship, invisible as thou art; 
There shalt thou find the marinera asleep 



undms myiell. 



(, lormetlf. 



ACT V. SceiM L 



THE TEMPEST. 



ACT v. SoMM 1. 



Under the hatches; the master and the boat- 
swain 
Being awake, enforce them to this place, 
And presently, I prithee. loi 

Ari I drink the air before me, and return 
Or e*er your pulse twice beat [Exit, 

> {^Gon, All torment, trouble, wonder, and 
) amazement, 

^Inhabit here: some heavenly power guide us 
jOut of this fearful country I ] 

Pro9, 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; 
And to thee and thy company I bid no 

A hearty welcome. 

Alon. Whether^ thou be'st he or no. 

Or some enchanted trifle^ to abuse ^ me, 
As late I have been, I not know: thy pulse 
Beats, as of flesh and blood; and, since I saw 

thee. 
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, and do entreat 
Thou pardon me my wrongs.* — But how should 
Prosf^ero 119 

Be living and be here ? 

Pros. First, noble friend. 

Let me embrace thine age, whose honour cannot 
Be measur'd or confin'd. 

6*0/1. Whether this be 

Or be not, I '11 not swear. 
I [ Pros. You do yet taste 

f Some subtilties o' the isle, that will not let you 
) Believe things certain. — Welcome, my friends 
\ all:— 

; [Aside to Sebastian and Antonio] But you, my 
J brace of lords, were I so minded 
\ I here could pluck his highness' frown upon you, 
y And justify* you traitors: at this time 128 
\ I '11 tell no tales. 

$ Seb. [Aside] The devil speaks in him.^ 
< Pros. [No.— 3 

For you, most wicked sir, whom to call brother 
Would even infect my mouth, I do forgive 

1 Whether, pronounced as a monosyllable. 

« Trifie, phantom. » Abute, decelTe. 

4 My wrongs, i.e. the wrongs I have done. 

■ Justify, prove. 

224 



Thy rankest fault, — all of them; and require 
My dukedom of thee, which perforce, I know^ 
Thou must restore. 

Alon. If thou be'st Prospero^ 

Give us particulars of thy preservation; 
How thou hast met us here, who three hours 

since 
Were wreck'd upon this shore; where I have 

lost— 
[How sharp the point of this remembrance 

is!—] 
My dear son Ferdinand. 

Pros. I am woe for % sir. 

^Alon. Irreparable is the loss; and patiences 
Says it is past her cure. 

Pros. 1 rather think !«■ 

You have not sought her help; of whose sofi 

grace. 
For the like loss I have her sovereign aid, 
And rest myself content 

Alon. You the like loss! 

Pros. As great to me as late; and, sdpport^- 

able 
To make the dear loss, have I means mucfti 

weaker 
Than you may call to comfort you; for I 
Have lost my daughter. 

Alo7i. A daughter! 

O heavens, that they were living both in 

Naples, 
The king and queen there ! that they were, I 

wish 150 

Myself were mudded in that oozy bed 
Where my son lies. When did you lose yoiU' 

daughter? 
Pros. In this last tempest I perceive, thes^ 

lords 
At this encounter do so much admire,^ 
That they devour their reason, and scarce thinlc 
Their eyes do offices of truth, their words 
Are natural breath: ] but, howsoe'er you hav^ 
Been justled from your senses, know for certaic 
That I am Prospero, and that very duke 
Which was thrust forth of Milan; who mosC 

strangely i«Cl 

Upon this shore, where you were wreck'd, wa^ 

landed. 
To be the lord on 't No more yet of this; 

* Admire t wonder. 



ACT V. Scene 1. 



THE TEMPEST. 



ACT V. S«ene 1, 



I 



> [ For *t is a chronicle of day by day, 
'^ N^ot a relation for a breakfast, nor 
I Sefitting this first meeting. ] Welcome, sir; 
This cell 's my co urt : here have I few attendants, 
jLnd subjects none abroad: pray you, look in. 
Af y dukedom since you have given me again, 
X will requite you with as good a thing; 109 
^ At least bring forth a wonder, to content ye 
Ab much as me my dukedom. ^ 

T^he ceil opens^ a fid dUcovers Ferdinand atid 
Miranda playing at chess, 

Mir, Sweet lord, you play me false. 
Fer, No, my dear'st love, 

I would not for the world. 

Mir, Yes, for a score of kingdoms you 
should wrangle, 
And I would call it fair play. 

Alon. If this prove 

A vision of the island, one dear son 
Shall I twice lose. 

^Seh, A most high miracle!^ 

Fer, Though the seas threaten, they are 
merciful: 
I have curs*d them without cause. 

[Kneds to Alonso, 
Alon, Now all the blessings 

Of a glad father compass thee about! iso 

Arise, and say how thou cam'st here. 

Mir, O, wonder I 

How many goodly creatures are there here! 
How beauteous mankind is! O brave new 

world, 
That has such people in 't! 
Pros. T is new to thee. 

Alon, What is this maid with whom thou 
wast at play ? 
Youreld'st acquaintance cannot be three hours: 
^ she the goddess that hath severed us. 
And brought us thus together? 

^^r. Sir, she's mortal; 

^>t by immortal Providence she 's mine: 189 
I chose her when I could not ask my father 
^w his advice, nor thought I had one. She 
Is daughter to this famous Duke of Milan, 
^ ^hom so often I have heard renown, 
l*ut never saw before; of whom I have 
^eiv'd a second life; and second father 
^^ la<ly makes him to me. 
^^^n- I am hers: 

Vol. VII. 



But, O, how oddly will it sound tliat I 
Must ask my child forgiveness! 

Pros, There, sir, stop: 

Let us not burden our remembrance with 
A heaviness that 's gone. 

Q Oon. I have inly wept,; 

Or should have spoke ere this. — Look down, ! 
you gods, aoi ! 

And on this couple drop a blessed crown! 
For it is you that have chalk'd forth the way 
Which brought us hither. 

Alon, I say, Amen, Gonzalo! 

Oon. 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; Pro8pero,his duke- 
dom 211 
In a poor isle; and all of us, ourselves ^ 
When no man was his own.* ] J 

Alon. [To Ferdinand and Miranda] Give 
me your hands: 
Let grief and sorrow still embrace his heart 
That doth not wish you joy ! 

Oon, Be 't sol Amen! 

Re-enter Ariel, with the Master and Boatstpain 
amazedly foUomng, 

0, look, sir, look, sir! here is more of us: 

I prophesied, if a gallows were on land. 

This fellow could not drown. — [Now, blas-S 

phemy. 
That swear'st grace o'erboard, not an oath on| 

shore? 
Hast thou no mouth by land ? ] What is the \ 

news? 220 

Boat4, The best news is, that we have safely 

found 
Our king and company; the next, our ship — 
[Which, but three glasses since, we gave out! 

split — ] < 

Is tight, and yare, and bravely rigg'd, as when 
We first put out to sea. 

Ari, [Aside to Prospero] Sir, all this service 
Have I done since I went 

1 Hit own, master of himMlf. 

225 Ml 



THE TEMPEST. 



Proi. [Aiide to Arie^ My tricksy spirit! 
i ^Alon. These are not natural event*; they 

> strengthen 

>From strange to stranger. — Sny, how caine 

> you hither? 

? Boat$, If I did think, sir, I were well awake, 

> I 'd strive to tell you. We were dead of sleeps 



And^how we know not — all dapp'd nnde 

hatches; V 

Where, but even now, with stnuige and seven 

Of roaring, shrieking, howling, jingling chaiu 
And more diversity of sounds, all honiWe, 
We were awak'd; straightway, at liberty: 




JWhere we, in all her trim, freshly beheld 
jOur royal, good, and gallant ship; our master 
|Chperiiig to eye her: on n trice, BO please 

sEven in a dream, were we divided from 

^ And were brought moping hither. J 

Ari. [,^^iefa to Proipero] Wa«'t well done? 

PrM. [Atideto Arid] Bravely, my diligence. 

Thou Shalt be free. Hi 

f[ A Ion. This is as strange a maze as e'er men 
trod; 
And there is in this bnsiuesa more than nature 
,WaB ever conduct' of: some oracle 
iMuat rectify our knowledge. 
; J'roi. Sir, mv liege, 



Do not infest your mind with beating on 
The strangeness of this business; at pick*) 

Which shail be shortly, single* 111 reaolvi 

Which to you shall seem probable — of every 
These happen'd accidents; till when, be cheei 

ful, n 

And think of each thing well. — 3 [Atide t 

Arid\ Come hither, spirit: 
Set Caliban and his dHupanions free; 
Untie the spelL [Exit .clnW]— How fai«B m; 

gracious sir! 
There are yet missing of your company 
Some few odd lads that you remember not. 



▲CT V. Soane 1. 



THE TEMPEST. 



EpilogiM. 



He-enter Ariel, driving in Caliban, Ste- 
PHANO, arid Trinculo, in their stolen ap- 
parel, 

Ste. Every man shift for all the rest, and let 
xno man take care for himself; for all is but 
fortune. — Coragio,^ bully-monster, coragio ! 
Trin. If these be true spies which I wear 
in my head, here 's a goodly sight 200 
Cal, O Setebos, these be brave spirits in- 
deed! 
Sow fine my master is! I am afraid 
Se will chastise me. 
\ ^Seb. Ha, ha! 

//What things are these, my lord Antonio? 
\ Will money buy 'em ? 

\ Ant, Very like; one of them 

<* Is a plain fish, and, no doubt, marketable. 
^ Pro9, Mark but the badges of these men, 
I my lords, 

(Then say if they be true. — This mis-shapen 
' knave, — 

'His mother was a witch; and one so strong 
^Xhat could control the moon, make flows and 
\ ebbs, 270 

J And deal in her command, without her power. 
jThese three have robb'd me; and this demi- 
S devil — 

J For he's a bastard one — had plotted with them 
;To take my life: two of these fellows you 
J Must know and own; this thing of darkness I 
{Acknowledge mine. 

S Ca/.3 I shall be pinch'd to death. 

Alon. Is not this Stephano, my drunken 

butler ? 
Stb, He is drunk now: where had he wine? 
} Alon. And Trinculo is reeling ripe:' [where 
; should they 

; Find this grand liquor that hath gilded 'em?' — ^] 

'How cam'st thou in this pickle? 28i 

Trin. I have been in such a ])ickle, since I 

8aw you last, that, I fear me, will never out 

of my bones: I shall not fear fly-blowing. 

5c6. Why, how now, Stephano! 

Ste. 0, touch me not;— I am not Stephano, 

but a cramp. 
Pros. You 'd be king o' the isle, sirrah? 

^ Coragio (ItaL). courage. 

* Reeling ripe, drunk to the point of reeling. 

* OOded 'em, made them drunk. 



Ste. 1 should have been a sore one, then. 
Alon. This is a strange thing as e'er I look'd 
on. [Pointing to Ckdiban. 

Pros. He is as disproportion'd in his manners 
As in his shape. — Go, sirrah, to my cell; 291 
Take with you your companions; as you look 
To have my pardon, trim it handsomely. 
Cal. Ay, that I will; and I '11 be wise here- 
after. 
And seek for grace. What a thrice-double ass 
Was I, to take this drunkard for a god. 
And worship this dull fool ! 

Pros. Go to; away! 

Alon. Hence, and bestow your luggage 

where you found it 
Seh. Or stole it, rather. 

[Exeunt Caliban^ Stephano, and Trinculo. 

Pros. Sir, I invite your highness and your 

train soo 

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 mom 
I '11 bring you to your ship, and so to Naples, 
Where I have hope to see the nuptial 
Of these our dear-belov'd solemnized; 809 

And thence retire me to my Milan, where 
Every third thought shall be my grave. 

Alon. 1 long 

To hear the story of your life, which must 
Take the ear strangely. 

Pros. I '11 deliver all; 

And promise you calm seas, auspicious gales, 
And sail so expeditious, that shall catch 
Your royal fleet far off". — [Aside to Ariel] My 

Ariel, — chick,— 
That is thy charge: then to the elements 
Be free, and fare thou well ! — Please you, draw 
near. [Exeunt. 

EPILOGUE. 

SPOKEN BY PROSPERO. 

Now my charms are all o'erthrown. 
And what strength I have 's mine own, — 

227 



THE TEMPEST. 



Which is most faint: [ now, 't U true, 
I must be here confin'd by you, 
Or sent to Naples. ] Let nie not. 
Since I have my dukedom got, 
And pardon'd the deceiver, dwell 
In thia bare island by your spell ; 
But release ate from my bands 
With the help of your good bands: 
Gentle breath of youia my saila 



Must fill, or else my project fkils, 
Which was to please: now I want 
Spirits to enforce, art to enchant; 
And my ending is despnir. 
Unless I be reliev'd by pi«yer, 
Which pierces so, that it assaults 
Mercy itself, and frees all faults. 
As you from crimes would paid<Hi'd be, 
Let your indulgence set me free. i 




NOTES TO THE TEMPEST. 



ACT I. Scene 1. 

L— Reference has been made in the Introduction to a 
play of Calderon'8, £1 Mayor Encanto Amor, in which there 
If considerable similarity to The Tempest It may be in- 
teresting to compare the first scene, which, like Shake- 
speare's, deals with a shipwreck— with how much less 
Tirid an effect ! I give it in M'Carthy's translation (Love 
the Greatest Enchantment, 1861, pp. 21-23). 

Act th« Firrt.— The Sea. and Coast of SicQy. 

A tki/ is discntrtd struggling^ with the waves: in it are Ulysses, 
AntisUs, Arckelaus, Palydorus, Timantes, Fhrus, Lebret, 
Clan'n, and others. 

Antistes. We strive in vain, 
Fate frowns averse, and drives us o'er the main 
Before the elements. 

Arckelaus. Death wings the wind, and the wild waves immense 
Win be our graves to-day. 

Timantes. Brace up the foresidl. 

Polydarus. Give the bow-line way. 

Florus. The rising wind a hurricane doth blow. 

AntisUs. Hoist! 

Le&rrl. To the mainsheet !— 

Oaritt. Let the dew-lines go !— 

Ulysses. O Sovereign Jove ! 
Tbou who this gulf in mountainous foam dost move. 
Altars and sacrifice to thee I vow. 
If thou wilt tame these angry waters now. 

AutisUs. God of the Sea, great Neptune! in despite 
Of Juno'k care, why thus the Greeks affright. 

Arckelaus. And see the kindling Heavens are all ablaze. 
With angry bolts and lightning-wingid rays. 

ClariM. Son of Silenus. truly called dfvimel 
Save from a watery death these lips that lived on wine ! 

Leh'el. Let not. O Momus I 't is his latest wish, 
A nun who Uved as flesh now die as fish I 

Timanles. This day, these waves that round about us rise 
Will be our icy tombs i— 

AU. Have pity, O ye skies !— 

Pclythrus. It seems that they have llsten'd to our prayer— 
Our wild lament that pierced the darksome air— 
Sace suddenly the winds begin to ceaie. 

Archttaus. Yes, all the elements proclaim a peace:— 

Antistes. And for our greater happiness. 
(Since good and evil on each other press) 
See, oa the far horiaon's verge 
The golden summits of the hills emerge 
From out the mist that shrouds the lowlier strand. 

Timtantes. The doods are scattered now; 

AU. The land ! the land I 

Ulysses. Beneath this promontory, which doth lie 
A liak of stone betwixt the sea and sky. 
Turn the tired prow : 

Fotydtrus. The rock bends beetling o'er :— 

Antixtes. All hands descend oo shore :— 

All. An hands on shore ! 

Antistes. After the war of waves the air grows bland :— 

Vlyssts. Shipwreck we have subdued. 

AU. To land I to land ! 

( The vessel anchors and all the crew disembark. 



2. Line 3: GOOD, spsolr to the manner*.— The word good 
here is evidently used in reference to the boatswain, not 
the cheer. C!ompare line 16 below : ' ' Xay , good^ be patient " 
The word is often thus used in Shakespeare, generally 
followed by notr, as in Comedy of Errors, i?. 4. 22: "Good, 
note, hold thy tongue." 

3. Lines 3, 4: fall to't yarely, or toe run our»elve$ 
a-ground, —In a note at the end of The Tempest (Var. 
Ed. XT. 184-186) Malone gives tlie following very inter- 
esting communication from a distinguished naval officer, 
the second Lord Musgrave: " The first scene of The Tem- 
pest is a very striking instance of the great accuracy of 
Shakspeare's knowledge in a professional science, the 
most difficult to attain without the help of experience. 
He must have acquired it by conversation with some of 
the most skilful seamen of that time. . . . 

"The succession of events is strictly observed in the 
natural progress of the distress described; the expedients 
adopted are the most proper that could have been devised 
for a chance of safety: and it is neither to the want of 
skill of the seamen or the bad qualities of the ship, but 
solely to the power of Prospero, that the shipwreck is to 
be attributed. 

" The words of command are not only strictly proper, 
but are only such as point the object to be attained, and 
no superfluous ones of detaiL Shakspeare's ship was too 
well manned to make it necessary to tell the seamen how 
they were to do it, as well as what they were to do. 

" He has shown a knowledge of the new improvements, 
as well as the doubtful points of seamanship; one of the 
latter he has introduced,* under the only circumstances in 
which it was indisputable. 

"The events certainly follow too near one another for 
the strict time of representation; but perhaps, if the whole 
length of the play was divided by the time allowed by the 
critics, the portion allotted to this scene might not be too 
little for the whole. But he has taken care to mark in- 
tervals between the different operations by exits. 

ist Position. sst Position. 

Fan to 't yarely. or we run our- lumd discovered under the lee: 
selves aground. the wind blowing too fresh to hawl 

upon a wind with the topsail set. 
Yare is an old sea term for briskly, 
in use at that time. This fatt 
command is therefore a notice to 
be ready to execute any orders 
quickly. 

ad Position. ad Position. 

Yare. yare. take in the top-sail. The topsail is Uken in. ' Blow 
blow tin thou burst thy wind, if tiU thou burst thy wind, if room 
room enough. enough.' The danger in a good 

sea boat is only from being too 
near the land ; this is introduced 
here to account for the next order. 

229 



ACT I. Soeoe 1. 



NOTES TO THE TEMPEST. 



ACT I. Bene 2. 



yl Position. yl Position. 

Down with the top mast— Yare, The i;ale encreasing, the top- 
lower, lower, bring her to try with mast is struck* to take the weight 
the main course. from alolt, make the ship drift less 

to leeward, and bear the mainsail 

under which the ship is laid to. 

4/A Position, 4/A Position. 

Lay her a hold, a hold ; set her The ship, having driven near the 

two courses, off to sea again, lay shore, the mainsail is hawted up; 

her o£ the ship wore, and the two courses 

set on the other tack, to endea- 
vour to clear the land that way. 
5/!A Position. S^A Position. 

We split, we split The ship not able to weather a 

point, is driven on shore." 

%. Line 11: Play the m«n.—MaloDe compares 2 Samuel 
X. 12: " let U8 play the men for oar people." 

6. Line 13: Where it the nuuter, BOATSWAIN?— Ff. print 
boton^ which is still the pronunciation of the word. 

8. Line 15: you do ASSIST THE storm.— Compare Peri- 
cles, iii. 1. 19: 

Patience, good sir; do not assist tJu storm. 

7. Lines 17, 18: What CARS theee roarer* for the name 
oif king f— Ft have earee, which the Cambridge editors 
preserve as " probably from Shakespeare's pen," and be- 
cause " in the mouth of a boatswain it can offend no one." 
But if Shakespeare wrote it, as is possible, it is certainly 
not probable that he would desire its preservation. A 
singular verb preceding a plural noun was never other 
than a vulgarism, however commonly used, and the Clar- 
endon Press editor quotes a very apt instance in Richard 
II. iii. 4. 24, where F. 1 has " Here eomee the gardeners," 
but Q. 1, the better text, has " Here come the gardeners." 

The word roarer, which does not occur elsewhere in 
Shakespeare, was used in his time in the sense of bully, 
riotous fellow. See KastrU in Jonson's Alchemist, the 
" angry boy," as he is there called, for a specimen of the 
roarer. 

8. Line 25: we tnU not hand a rope more; i.e, handle. 

Compare Winter's Tale, ii. 3. 62, 63: 

Let him that makes but trifles of his eyes 
First hand me. 

Cotgrave renders manier, " to handle, hand," Ac. 

9. Line 32: hit complexion it perfect gaUowe. — Here, and 
again below, line 49, and in v. 1. 217, 218, is an allusion to 
the proverb, " He that is bom to be hanged will never be 
drowned. " Compare also The Two Oentlemen of Verona, 
I. 1. 166-158: 

Ck>, go, be gone, to save your ship from wreck. 
Which cannot perish having thee aboard, 
Being destin'd to a drier death on shore. 

10. Line 38: Bring her to try with main-course.'— Steevens 
quotes from Smith's Seaman's Grammar, 1627, under the 
article, How to handle a ship in a storm: "Let us lie 
as Trie with our maine course; that is, to hale the 
tacke aboord, tlie sheat close aft, the boling set up, and 
the helme tied close aboord." The Clarendon Press ed. 
quotes from Edwards' Life of Ralegh the following illus- 
trative passage describing the disasters which befel his 
ships at the outset of the Island voyage in 1597: "On Twes- 
day mominge, my sealf, the Bonaventer, the Mathew, and 

230 



Andrew, were together, and steered for the North Cape, 
not doubtinge butt to have crost the fleet within six howres, 
butt att the instant the winde changed to the ioath, and 
blew vehemently; so as wee putt our sealres under oar 
fore corses, and stood to the west into the sea. Butt on 
Twesday night I perceved the Mathew to labor very vehe- 
mently, and that shee could not indure that manner of 
standinge of, and so putt her sealf a try with her mayne 
course" (voL il. pp. 171, 172). 

11. Line 52: Lay her a-hold.— To lay a ship a-hold is 
defined in Admiral Smyth's Sailors' Wordbook as "a tenn 
of our early navigators, for bringing a ship close to the 
wind, so as to hold or keep to it" 

12. Lines 52, 53: set her tteo courses! o^ to sea again,— 
This is the punctuation introduced by Holt; Ff. have "sH 
her two courses off to Sea againe," which would mean, 
keep her two points further out from land— which may be 
the meaning. The two courses which were to be set are 
the mainsail and the foresalL 

13. Line 63: ^ nd gape at vndst to glut Atm.— The word 
gilut, in the sense of englut, swallow, does not occur else- 
where in Shakespeare. Johnson compares Milton, Para- 
dise Lost, X. 632, 633: 

nighbofst 
With suck'd and i'/MMa/ oflaL 

14. Lines 70, 71: ling, heath, broom, furze.— This is the 
emendation of Hanmer, which it is difficult not to accept 
The Ft have long heath, Browne Jirrs, which a few editon 
retain, though no satisfactory reason has yet been given 
why heath should be spoken of as long or furze as browns 
at a time too when the speaker had other things than 
adjectives to think of. Farmer quotes from Harrison's 
Description of England, prefixed to Holinshed (foL 91a): 
**Brome . . . A«<A, /rze, brakes, whinnes, h'fij^," Ac. 

ACT I. Scene 2. 

16. Line 7: Who had, no doubt, some noble CREATURES 
in her.— Ft. print creature; the emendation adopted is 
Theobald's. It is obviously denutnded by Miranda's words 
before and after: "those that I saw suffer," and "Poor 
souls, fA^yperish'd!" 

18. Line 13: The frauqhtiko souls within her.— Theo- 
bald altered /rati^A^iniir to freighting, hnt fraught was the 
word in use in Shakespeare's time. Compare Marlowe, The 
Jew of Malta, L 1: 

Bid the merchants and my men dispatch 

And come ashore and see ihc/rang^Jkt discharg'd. 

Fraughting is of course used in the sense of " making up 
the freight" The Clarendon Press ed. quotes Cotgrave: 
"Freteure: A fraughting, loading, or famishing of a 
(hired) ship. " 

17. Line 19 : more better. — Compare line iSO below, 
" more braver. " Similar reduplications are not infrequent 
in Shakespeare, as in Antony and Cleopatra, UL ft. 76: "a 
more larger list of sceptres;" Measure for Measore, iL 2. 
17: " some more fitter place;" Ac. 

18. Line 20: that there it no SOUL.— The sentence here 
is left unfinished— probably with an intentional abrupt- 
ness. The sense is perfectly clear fh>m the context, and 



^CT I. SooM S. 



NOTES TO THE TEMPEST. 



ACT L Scene 2. 



flkiUghtbreftkof thi«aortisTery natoraL Bowe marred 
'ftbe line by adding "loat," and Theobald propo«ed/ot< for 
.0011/, Johnaon «n{;— alterations not merely unneceaaary, 
Isat Improbable in themielves. 

19l Line 41: Our three yean old; i.e. fall three yean 
old. Compare It. 1. 101: " And be a boy right out" 

aa line 60: In the dark backward and abtsm qf timet 
— ffliakespeare UBet the adverb inward in a similar way as 
aft noon. Compare Measure for Measure, ill 2. 188: " I 
"Was an inward of his." Altytm is the earlier form of the 
'wrord " abyss," showing more directly its origin from the 
Old French aftytme {ahtme). It occurs in two other places 
of Shakespeare: Antony and Cleopatra, ilL 18. 147, and 
8onnet cziL 9. 

XL Line 53: Twelve year rinee, Miranda, twelve year 
«<iiee.— This is the only place in Shakespeare where year 
la used instead of yeare in anything but an intentionally 
cwUoqnial way. Perhaps its use here is intended to mark 
the unwontedly familiar tone of Prospero's communica- 
tion. I think something of the same effect is found in the 
particular rhythm of the line, which should not, in my 
opinion, be read (as we are usually instructed to read it) 
" Twehre ye-ar since, Miranda, twelve year since." Simi- 
lar expansions and contractions are certainly to be found 
In Shakespeare, but anything of the sort is quite unneces- 
isry here. Bead simply, with a slight extra accent on the 
first word, the line has to my ear a very expressive rhythm, 
not unlike that of Tennyson in The Grandmother: 

Seventy yean aico, my darling, seventy years ago. 

—Works, 1879, p. 363. 

A Line 66: Thy mother wae A piice of virtub.— Com- 
pare Antony and aeopatra, iii. 2. 28: " the piece of virtue," 
and see note 180 to that play. 

n Lines 57-60: 

and thy father 

Waa Dttke t^f Milan; AMD Ait only heir 

A prineeUt—no worte ietu'd. 

The reading here adopted, that of Pope, seems to me much 
Uie best, requiring as it does the least possible change of 
the original text, and giving at least as good sense as any- 
thing else that has been suggested. Ff. have " il nd Prin- 
eeaae," which aome retain, inaerting thou before " hia only 
hdr ** in the preceding line. Thia indeed ia the final deciaion 
of the Oambridge editora, who in the Cambridge ed. print 
the Folio text verbatim, and In the aarendon Preaa adopt 
the reading of Pope. But the omiaaion of such a word as 
tkeu seems to me much less likely than the substitution 
of And for ^, when there have been no less than three 
indf already in the sentence. Dyce, In his notes to the 
(lay, cites four similar misprints of And for A, He, how- 
ever, adopts Hanmer's reading, thou for and, in line 58, 
It well as the change of And to A. 

SL Line 64: (een.— Shakespeare uses te«n (meaning sor- 
rmr) five or six times (compare Borneo and Juliet, i. 8. 18: 
"and yet, to my fsen be it spoken"), though even then it 
was going out of use. Compare Chaucer, The Knightes 
Tale, 2247. 2248: 

That aevere was ther 00 word hem bitweene 

or Jdoiisye, or any other tune. 



Bossetti uses it in his translation of Yillon's Ballade des 

Dames du temps Jadls, where he renders: 

Pour son amour eut cest essoyne, 
by- 

From Love he won such dule and teen. 

26. Line 70: The MANAOB qf my etate. —Compare King 
John, L 1. 87, 38: 

Which now the manm^e of two kingdoms must 
With fearful bloody i&sue arbitrate ; 

and Bichard II. i. 4. 38, 39: 

Now for the rebels which stand out in Ireland.— 
Expedient managt must be made, my leire. 

26. Line 71: Through all the SIQKIORIIS it usu thefinL 
^Signioriet are here used in the sense of principalities— 
" the states of Northern Italy, under the government of 
single princes originally owing feudal obedience to the 
Holy Boman Empire" (Clarendon Pressed.). Elsewhere 
in Shakespeare it is used for estates or manors. 

27. Line 72: And Proepero the PMiaduke; i.e. the first 

in rank. Compare Henry VIII. lit 2. 161, 162: 

Have I not made you 
The /rim* man of the state f 

In the present scene, line 425, it is used with the meaning 
of first in order: " my prime request" 

2& Line 81: To trash /or otee-toppibq.— The word 

traeh is a term used chiefly In hunting, meaning to re- 

strain. See note 5 to Taming of the Shrew, where the 

following quotation from Hammond's Works (voL L p. 28) 

is given: " That this contrariety always interposes some 

objections to hinder or trcuh you from doing the things 

that you would, i.e. sometimes the Spirit traehee you fh>m 

doing the thing that the Spirit would have done." Some, 

influenced by the word over-topping, have understood 

trath as meaning " to lop," a meaning which has never 

been given to it elsewhere. Over-top, certainly. Is used 

of trees, as in Antony and Cleopatra, iv. 12. 23, 24: 

this pine is bark'd. 
That evertopp'd them all ; 

but, considering how extremely fond Shakespeare was of 
the word top, in all ita aenaes and connectiona, there Is no 
reason why he should not have used It here in the sense 
of " outetrip" This makes the hunting metaphor com- 
plete. Compare Othello, IL 1. 312, SIS, whore, if Warton's 
emendation of troth for traee be accepted (as, in this edi- 
tion, it is), we read: 

If this poor trash of Venice, whom I trash 
For his quick hunting, stand the putting on. 

29. Lines 88, 84: 

having both the KIT 

0/ q0leer and ofUe. 

The key meant here is, as Sir John Hawkins states (Var. 
Ed. XV. 31), the key for tuning the harpsichord, spinet, 
or virginaL 

ao. Lines 89, 90: 

aU dedicated 

To CLO6EKK88. 

Cleeeneee, in the sense of retirement, does not occur else- 
where in Shakespeare. Boyer, in his French Dictionary, 
has " Closeness, (Beservedness or Secrecy) Reterve, Con- 
nexion, Circonapeetion." 

231 



ACT L Soene 2. 



NOTES TO THE TEMPEST. 



ACT L 



SI. Line 02: O'B&priz'd all popular raU; i.e. oatralned 
all popular estimation. Ck>mpare Qsrmbeline, I 4. 87, 88: 
" Either yoor unparaeon'd mlatreH is dead, or the's out- 
prifd by a trifle"— where ouiprized ii used with the same 
meaning. 

n. Unet 98-96: 

and my tnut. 

Like a good parent, did beget of him 

A fdUeKood, in iti contrary as great 

Am my trust teas. 

Thii la an alloiion to the prorerb, ittlfih n^mn ru(>« 
•^/u«r«, heroum /Uii waux, or. aa Johnson puts it, "a 
father above the common rate of men has commonly a 
son below it" 

88. Lines 99-102: 

like one 

Who having INTO truth, by UUing cf it. 

Made such a sinner qf his memory, 

To credit his oten lie. 

This is the reading of the Ff . , which has been greatly 
doubted, and altered in several ways, most plausibly by 
Warburton, who changed into to unto, by which, cer- 
tainly, we get a very fair sense: " like one who having 
made such a sinner unto (or against) truth of his memory 
as to credit his own lie by telling of it" But is not the 
text of the Ff. quite intelligible, and not more contorted 
in construction, without alteration? The sense, taken 
thus, is: " like one who having made such a sinner of his 
memory as to credit his own lie by telling of it into truth " 
—a peculiar expression certainly, but not without paral- 
lels enough. Arrowsmith, in his Shakespeare's Editors 
and Commentators, pp. 44-46 (cited by Dyce in his notes), 
gives several examples of similar constructions; e.g. The 
Times, Oct 10, 1862: "Some feasible line of frontier which 
may also be discussed into familiarity ;" Ben Jonson's 
Underwoods: "By thanking thus the courtesy to life." 
Malone quotes a passage closely parallel to that in the 
text from Bacon's account of Perkin Warbeck in his His- 
tory of Henry VII. 1622, p. 120: " Nay himselfe, with long 
and continuall counterfeiting, and with oft telling a Lye, 
was turned by habite almost into the thinge hee seemed 
to be, and from a Lyar, to a Belieuer." 

84. Lines 109, 110: 

Ms, jTOor man, my library 
Was dukedom large enough. 

Shakespeare sometimes, as here, omits the preposition ; 
the meaning of course is **For me." Compare Cymbe- 
line, V. 6. 464, 466: 

If'hom heavenk. in Juiftlce, both on her and hen. 

Have laid most heavy hand ; 

and Timon of Athens, v. 1. 63, 64: 

If 'Mas* thankleu natures— O abhorred splriu!— 
Not all the whips of heaven are lari;e enouxh. 

86. Line 111: cot^federates.^The yerh eoj\fed£rates (i.e. 
conspires) is not elsewhere used by Shakespeare, but com- 
pare confederacy, in a similar sense, in Henry VIII. i. 2. 2, 3: 

I stood i' the level 
Of a fu]l<han(cd cot^ftderacy; 

and so probably in II. Henry VI. IL 1. 16S, Ac. 

232 



86u Line 112: So DBT As was for sway; ts. thintj, as ia 
our conunon vulgarism. It is used again, witbont inten- 
tional colloquialism, in L Henry IT. L 8. 81: 
When I was dty widi ngt and extreme toB. 

" With the King of Naples" is printed in Ff. **wiik Ki^ 
of Naples," and some editors print m" the. No dooht the 
mark of elision was accidentally omitted by the printer, 
who should have printed urith'. A simQar omission oc- 
curs in line 173 below. See note 49. 

37. Line 122: hkarkehs my brother^s suit— Hearkens 
is again used transiUvely in IL Henry I V. ii 4. 304 : ** Well, 
hearken the end," where, however, the Q. has hearken eU. 

88. Line 123: IN LIBU C the premises. —SbMktsspean 
only uses in lieu qf in the present sense of " in considera- 
tion of, in return for." Compare Merchant of Veniee, iv. 
I. 40S-412: 

Most worthy gentknian, I and my friend 
Have by your wisdom been this day acquitted 
Of grievous penalties ; in tim wktreaf. 
Three thousand ducats, due unto the Jew, 
We freely cope your courteous pains withaL 

39. Line 133: /, not remembering how I cried OCT then. 
—There is some plausibility in Steevens' conjecture, thst 
otU should be on 't, but not enough certainty to make ths 
change advisable. 

40. Lines 134, 135: 

it is a HIMT 

That vprings mine eyes TO 'T. 

That is, it is a subject that draws tears from mine eysib 
Hint is used here as in IL 1. 3: " Our hint of woe;" ue. ov 
theme of woe. To't means "to do it," that is, to ciy: 
Steevens, through some misunderstanding, thought ths 
words inappropriate or unnecessary, and omitted them, 
to the equal detriment of sense and metre. 

41. Line 138: impertuienl; Le. irrelevant, the literal 
meaning of the word, now out of use, though we use jw- 
tinent in its original sense. The word does not occur else- 
where in Shakespeare, except in a misapplication of it by 
Launcelot in the Merchant of Venice, IL 2. 144. Imptr* 
tinency is used in Lear, iv. 6. 178: 

O, matter and im^rtimenty mix'd ! 

41 Line 189: WeU DIXANDXD, WBNCH.— Both demanded 
and uiench are here used in somewhat other than the 
modem way: demanded being merely "asked" (the 
French demandf), without any peremptoiy signification, 
and teench being equivalent to " my girl "—a term of affec- 
tion, not of contempt The word indeed is still used ia 
some parts of the oountiy with this meaning— certainly 
in Warwickshire. 

43. Lines 145-147: 

where they prepared 

A rotten earwu qf a BOAT, not rigg/'d, 

Sor tackle, saU, nor mast. 

Ff . print Butt, for which no satisfactoiy meaning has been 
found. The correction is obvious. It was introduced by 
Bowe from Diyden's version. Malone thinks that Shake- 
speare had in mind here the similar treatment undergone 
by Edwin at the hands of his brother AtheUtane. See 
Hulinshed, 1586> voL i. p. 156. 



ACT I. Some S. 



NOTES TO THE TEMPEST. 



ACT I. Soene 2. 



44. Ldnes 147-149: 

the very rats 

Instinctively hays quit it: there they HOIST us, 

To cry to the sea that roared to us. 

Bowe, following Dryden, altered have to had, but the 

change from the post to the present seems intentional, 

as in the Latin " historical present" Hoist, in the next 

line, may be either past or present, probably the latter, 

thus carrying on the description with the same Tividness, 

as if all were happening over again. (Compare with line 

14», Winter's Tale, iii. 3. 100: "how the poor souls 

voared, and the sea mock'd them." In the same play a 

good example may be found of the change from past to 

Pf««ent, T. 2. 83-85: "she lifted the princess from- the 

«*ith', and so locks her in embracing, as if she would pin 

her to her heart." 

^ Line 155: When 1 have deck'd the sea urith drops 
JvU salt— Deck'd is usually explained as a provincialism 
for "sprinkled," and so it would seem to be, despite 
flchiDidt's protest in his Lexicon. " To speak of floods," 
he UjTB, " as being increased by tears is an hyperbole too 
^ueDt in Shakespeare. Prospero means to say that 
^ ihed 80 many tears as to cover the surface of the sea 
^th them." But I do not see how deck'd can be taken 
in this large sense of " covered." In the other passages 
S^^cn in the Lexicon it means simply "dressed," and 
f^ters either literally or figuratively to clothes. No such 
>nesDhig is possible here. Probably it is to be taken as 
•qnlTtlent to the North Country deg, which means to 
<lunp, used particularly of clothes damped before being 
''^ed. The Clarendon Press ed. quotes Carr's Glossary 
^ the Craven Dialect, where deg is thus explained; At- 
klMon's Glossary of the Cleveland Dialect, where dagg 
w<**W l» defined "to sprinkle with water, to drizzle;" 
•od Brockett's Glossary of North -Country words, where 
»eftiul"Da£r, to drizzle." 

^ Line 157: An undergoing STOMACH; i.e. an enduring 

or ittitaining courage. Stomach is more generally used 

^ the sense of anger or resentment, occasionally as arro- 

S^'^; in the present sense of dogged courage it occurs 

in Hamlet, I. l. 99, 100: 

some enterprise 
Tlut hath a stamach in 't ; 

*«1 n. Henry IV. L 1. 127-130: 

The bloody Doti(;Ias . . . 

Can vail his stomach, and did grace the shame 

Of those that tum'd their backs. 

The Clarendon Press ed. quotes II. Mace. vli. 21: "Yea, 
*^ <^horted every one of them in her own language, 
filled with courageous spirits; and stirring up her woman- 
ish thooghts with a manly stomach, she said unto them." 

*7. Lines 162, 163: 

WHO being then appointed 
Master of this design. 

This parenthesis is of course inacciirate in construction, 
bat the inaccuracy was probably Shakespeare's, not the 
printers', pope smoothened things by omitting who, and 
^^*Pcll by changing who into he. 

48. Line 160: Now I arise.— Three explanations of these 
words have been given: (1) that Prospero, for some un> 



known reason, accompanies the act of rising with this 
statement to his daughter; (2) that the words mean, 
"Now I rise in my narration," "now my story heightens 
in its consequence;" (3) that Prospero thus declares that 
the turning-point of his own fortunes was come, and that 
now he began to ame— " his reappearance from obscurity 
a kind of resurrection, or like the rising of the sun." This 
view seems the most reasonable, and it is probable that 
Proepero also literally rose from his seat, as in the next 
line he tells his daughter to sit still. To account for this 
movement Collier's MS. Corrector introduces the stage- 
direction, " Put on robe again," which, in the Cambridge 
editors' form, " Resumes his mantle," I have adopted. 

48. Line 173: Than other princess' can.— The first three 
Ff. have prineesse, F. 4 princess. The reading in the text 
was introduced by Dyce on a conjecture of Sidney Walker, 
who, rightly as I think, took the prineesse of the Ff. for 
an instance of elision of final es or s, for the sake of metre. 
Compare the Ff. text of Richard III. ii. 1. 137: 

Looked pale when they did hear of Ciarenct death ; 

and of Comedy of Errors, v. 1. 357: 

These two Attti/holus, these two so like. 

Compare, too, Macbeth, v. 1. 29: "Ay, but their sense are 
shut," and see note 236 to that play. Rowe reads princes, 
which seems more of an alteration of the original than 
the reading I have adopted, and, to say the least, no 
better in meaning, though prince in Shakespeare's day 
was sometimes used of women. 

60. Lines 181-184: 

I find my zenith doth depend upon 
A most aiufpicious star, whose influence 
If now I court not, but omit, my fortunes 
Will ever after droop. 

Compare Julius Cscsar, iv. 3. 218-221: 

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. 

61. Line 194: Perform' d to point; i.e. in every point, 
exactly. The expression occurs again in Measure for 
Measure, iii. 1. 254: "agree with his demands to the 
point." The Clarendon Press ed. quotes Cotgrave: "A 
Poinct ApUy, fitly, conueniently." 

62. Lines 196-206.— Capell (School of Shakespeare, p. 7) 
quotes the following passage from Hakluyt's VoyagM, 
ed. 1596, voL iiL p. 450: "I do remember that in the 
great and boysterous storme of this foule weather, in the 
night, there came vpon the toppe of our maine yarde and 
maine maste, a certaine little light, much like vnto the 
light of a little candle, which the Spaniards called the 
Cuerpo-santo, and saide it was S. Elmo, whom they take 
to be the aduocate of Sailers. . . . This light continued 
aboord our ship about three houres, fiying from maste 
to maste, from top to top: and sometime it would be 
in two or three places at once." The Clarendon Press 
ed. quotes a similar account of the phenomenon known 
as St Elmo's fire from Purchas his Pilgrimes, ed. 1625, 
Part I. lib. iii. c. 1. f 6, p. 133. 

68. Line 196: now on the beak; t e. the bow. Boyer, in 

233 



ACT I. Scene 2. 



NOTES TO THE TEMPEST. 



ACT L Boene 2. 



his French Dictionary, has: " The Beak, or Beak-head of 
a ship, VSperon, U cap, U Pouiaine, ou VAvaniage d'un 
Navirt; " and Coles, Latin Dictionary, renders Bottrumf 
" a bill, beak, snoat, the beak qf a ship." 

M. Line 197: the waitt; i.e. the hollow space between 
the quarter-deck and the forecastle. Boyer has: "The 
Wast of a ship, (that Part between the Main-mast, and the 
Fore-casUe) le milieu d'un Xavire." 

66. Line 200: bowspriL—¥t. spell this word Bore-tprittf 
a misprint for boUeprit or bowtpriL 

66w Line 201: Jove> UOHTNINGS, the precur9or$.—Vt 
have lightning; the correction is Theobald's. 

67. Line 206: 

Ari. Yea, hit dread trident shake. 

Pro. My brave spirit I 

Various expedients hare been suggested for mending the 
metre of this line, which, however, is not more irregular 
than many of Shakespeare's. But the most amusing con- 
tribution to the question comes from Farmer, who gravely 
informs us in the solemn pages of the Variorum, that 
"lest the metre should appear defective, it is necessary 
to apprize the reader, that in Warwickshire and other 
Midland counties, shake is still pronounced by the com- 
mon people as if it was written sha<ike, a dissyllable." 
Certainly the Warwickshire people do lengthen out their 
words in the most extensive manner— a drawl which to 
my ear is often musical— but can any mortal believe that 
Shakespeare in a play like The Tempest would introduce 
a provincial pronunciation to eke out a not quite long 
enough line! 

68. Line 213: With hair up-staring.— Compwe Julius 

Caesar, iv. 3. 279, 280: 

Art thou some god, some angel, or some devil. 
That mak'st mjr blood cold and my hair to staret 

ue. to stand on end. Boyer, in his French Dictionary, 
has, 8.V. Stare: " His Hair stares up, (or stands on end) 
Ses cheveux se dressent, ou se heriasent." 

69. Line 218: On their sustainino oarmihts not a 
blemi*?L — Sustaining garments certainly means "gar- 
ments that sustained them," as in Hamlet, iv. 7. 176, 177: 

Her clothes spread wide. 
And mermaid-Uke awhile tMry bare her uf. 

But from the context it seems rather more probable that 
what Shakespeare meant, inaccurately as he expressed it, 
was, as Monck Mason says, "garments which bore, with- 
out being injured, the drenching of the sea." 

GO. Line 224: in this sad knot; i.e. thus folded, as if in 
melancholy. Compare Titus Andronicus, iii. 2. 4: 

Marcus, unknit that sorravhwreaOitM knot; 

and Sir John Suclding's famous description of Ford, in 

the Sessions of the Poets: 

Deep in a dump John Ford was alone got, 
'W\t\\/oidetl artns and melancholy hat. 

61. Lines 228, 229: 

Thou ealVdst me up at midntght to fetch DIW 
From the STILL-VIX'D Bbrmoothbs. 

Compare Bermuda. A Colony. A Fortress and a Prison. 

234 



... By a Field Officer. (Longman, 1857): "The damp- 
ness of the climate would be less remaiiced, if a nx>re 
solid style of building were adopted as well as a more 
general use of the fire-places. But even fkom the earliest 
discovery of the islands, this peculiarity of the atmoa- 
phere must have been well known, otherwise Shakspeare 
would not have made Prospero call Ariel * up at midnight 
to fetch dew ' from so distant a spot— the first recorded 
article of export, by the way. It ia to be regretted, that 
Ariel did not carry away with him more of the dew, for 
there is still a great deal too much " (pp. S5, d6X Henley 
remarks: "The epithet here applied to the Bermadaa will 
be best understood by those who have seen the chafing 
of the sea over the rugged rocks by which they are sur- 
rounded, and which render access to them so dangerona.*- 
Compare Heywood, The English Traveller, iL 2: 

/St Gal. Whence is your shi|>— from the Btrmoothts I 
Reig. Worse, I think from Hdl : 
We are all lost. spKt. shipwrecked, and undone. 

The Clarendon Press ed. quotes the following passage 
from Stow's Annals (ed. Howe, 16S1), p. 1020, relating to 
the fleet under Sir Qeoige Summers sent out by the Vir> 
ginia Company in 1600: " Sir G^eoige Sommers, sitting at 
the steame, seeing the ship desperate of reliefe, looking- 
euery minute when the ship would sinke, hee espied land, 
which, according to his, and (Taptaine Newports opinion, 
they iudged it should be that dreadfull coast of the Ber- 
modes, which nand[8] were of all Nations, said and sap- 
posed to bee enchanted and inhabited with witchn and 
deuUls, which grew by reason of accustomed monstroua 
Thunder, storme, and tempest, neere vnto those Xlanda, 
also for that the whole coast is so wonderous dangeroiiSv 
of Bockes, that few can approach them, but with vn- 
speakable hazard of ship- wrack." References to the Ber- 
mudas are very common in the Elixabethan age, and the 
name of the islands is frequently coupled with tales of 
enchantment and witchcraft Compare Fletcher's Women 
Pleased, i. 2: 

The devil should think of purchasfaiflr that ei^-chell 
To victual out a witch for the BurmttUus. 

62. Line 234: the Mediterranean ThOfnL—Flote, mean- 
ing flood or sea, is by some derived from Jtoat, by others 
from the French yfoL The Clarendon Press ed. quotes 
Minsheu's Guide into Toi^;ues, 1617: "A Flote or wane. 
O. F15t L. Fluctus." Compare Ford, Love's Sacrifice, i. 

2: 

Traitor to friendship, whither shall I run. 

That, lost to reason, cannot sway ihejtMU 

Of the unruly faction in my bloodt 

63. Lines 239-241: 

Pros. What is the time o' the dayf 
Ari. Poet the mid ttaeon. 

Pros. At least two glasses. The time 'twixt six and now 
Must by us both be spent most preeiousiy. 

This passage has been supposed by some to be wrongly 
distributed, because Prospero is represented as answering 
his own question. Warburton, adoptfaig the oonjecUire 
of Theobald and Upton, gives "Past the mid season at 
least two glasses" to ArieL Johnson reasonably consid- 
ered that the passage need not be disturbed, " tt being 
common to ask a question, which the next moment 



ACT I. 8o«M 2. 



NOTES TO THE TEMPEST. 



ACT I. Scene 2. 



enables lu to aniwer;" but he adds: "he that thlnka it 

faulty, maj easily adjost it thus: 

Prt. What U the time o' tbe <Uy f Past the mid season! 
Ari. At least two kIasscs. 
/V-M. The time twixt fix and now, Ace." 

Staanton, on the other hand, prints the passage thus: 
Pr0t, At least two glasses — the time 'twixt six and now- 
Must by US both be spent most predoosly. 

Bat this, as the Clarendon Press ed. remarks, would make 
it four in the afternoon, which hardly answers to Ariel's 
*' Fast the mid season." It would also, as Mr. Daniel 
points out in his Time-analysis of the play, reduce the 
time of the play to little more than two hours, while ac- 
eording to Prospero and Ariel it was a little above four, 
and on the testimony of Alonzo and the Boatswain about 
three. 

M. Line 242: Svum thou do$t give me pains ; i.e, tasks. 
Compare the expression " to take paim." See Taming of 
the Shrew, iiL L 11, 12: 

Was it not to refresh the mind of man. 
After his studies or his usual fain / 

66. Line 248: made »»o mistakingt. —I hare followed 
Fope in omitting (Aee, which in the Ff. is redundant alike 
as to metre and sense, and has very obviously found its 
way Into the text by confusion with the preceding clause, 
" Told thee no lies," and the word just above it in the pre- 
ceding line: " done thee worthy service." 



did. 



Line 249: thou didst promi$e.—F. 1 and F. 2 have 



67. Line 261: Argier.—Argier or Argiere was the old 
form of Algiers. The King of Argier is a character in 
both parts of Marlowe's Tamburlaine. The word is found 
as late as Dryden, Limberham, iiL 1: "you Argier' » man." 

6& Lines 266, 267: 

for one thing $he did 

They would not take her life. 

Boswell supposed that " the thing she did" was some cir- 
ctimstance found by Shakespeare in the novel from which 
he drew his story (if any such novel existed). But it seems 
to me that the allusion is merely to the fact, mentioned 
in line 266, that she was " with child." 

66. Une 266: Thie blub-it'd Ao^. —Staunton conjec- 
tured hUar-eyedf but, as the Clarendon Press ed. remarks: 
" Blue-eyed does not describe the colour of the pupil of 
the eye, but the livid colour of the eye-lid, and a blue eye 
in this sense was a sign of pregnancy. See Webster, Duch- 
ess of Malfl, ii. 1. 'The fins of her eyelids look most 
teeming blue.'" Euripides uses Uie word xv«>«v>^— liter- 
ally dark-blue-gleaming— in his description of Death in 
Alkestis, which Browning renders: 

Hades' self. 
He, with the wings there, glares at me. one gaze 
All.that Uut kriUimnee, under the eye-brow S 

— Balaustion's Adventure, p. 46. 

And on the next page Browning speaks of " the blue-eyed 
blaek-winged phantom." Here of course the reference Is 
to the Inrid blue-black colour of thunder-clouds, and it is 
poealble 8hakeq;>eare may have meant this in describing 
his witeh as htue-eyed. 



70. Lines 270, 271: Thou . . . WAST then her tervant.-" 
So Bowe, after Dryden; Ff. print i«m. 

71. Lines 801-303: 

60 make thyself like to a nymph 0' the sea : 
Be subject to no sight but mine; invisible 
To every eyeball else. 

F. 1 has: 

Goe make thy selfe like a Nymph o' th' sea. 

Be subiect to no sight but thine, and mine : inuisible 

To euery eye-ball else. 

F. 2 inserts to in line 301, and Bowe, in his second edition^ 
omits thine and, changes which I cannot but consider 
absolutely necessary, the first on account of the metre, 
the second on account both of metre and of sense. Ma- 
lone arranges the lines thus: 

Go make thyself like a n]rmph o' the sea : be subject 
To no sight but thine and mine ; invisible 
To every eyeball else. 

But such jolting lines are no more to be called rhythmical 
than tiie lines as they stand in F. 1. And, apart from the 
question of metre, why should Prospero say that Ariel 
should be invisible to every sight but "thine and mine"? 
The very idea seems ridiculous, not at all less so because 
Malone assures us that Ariel might look at his image in 
the water and then he would see himself ! Prospero would 
show more consideration for the feelings of Ariel than is 
at all customary with him if he were to take all that 
tit>uble to explain to his spirit-slave that his invisible 
garb would not render him invisible to himself. 

72. Line 311: We cannot MISS him; i.e. do without him. 
The Clarendon Press ed. quotes Lyly, Euphues and his 
England (ed. Arber), p. 264: "Bringing vnto man both 
honnye and wax, each so wholsome that wee all desire it^ 
both so necessary that we cannot misse them." 

73. Lines 823, 324: 

a SOUTH-WKST blow on ye, 

And blister you all o'er! 
The south was thought to be the quarter from which 
noxious vapours came. Compare Coriolanus, L 4. SO: 
AU the contagion of the sautA light on you ! 

74. Line 326: urchins, literally hedgehogs, and thence» 
hedgehogs being uncanny creatures and sometimes the 
familiars of witches (as in Macbeth, iv. 1. 2), coming to 
have the signification of mischievous elves. Such is ob- 
viously the meaning in Merry Wives, iv. 4. 40: "Like 
urchins, ouphs, and fairies." The Clarendon Press ed. 
quotes Harsnet's Declaration of Popish Impostures, 1003, 
p. 14, where the word is used for hobgoblins: "And fur- 
ther, that these ill mannered vrchins, did so swarme about 
the priests, in such troupes, and thronges, that they made 
them sometimes to sweat, as seemes, with the very heate 
of the fume, that came from the devils noses." In the 
passage in the texti urchins is probably used literally of 
hedgehogs. Compare ii. 2. 10-12: 

then like k«dgth«fx^ which 
Lie tumbling in my barefoot way, and mount 
Their pricks at my footfalL 

76. Lines 326-328: 

urchins 

Shall forth at vast of night that they may work 

AU exercise on thee. 

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ACT L Scene 2. 



NOTES TO THE TEMPEST. 



ACT I. Scene 2. 



Bojer in his French Dictionary gives " Whist, (an Inter- 
jection of Silence) St, Paix, Silence, Chut." Compare 
Lord Surrey's translation of book ii. of the .£neid, line 1: 

They wkitttd all, with fixed face attent; 
sDd Lyly, The Maid's Metamorphosis: 

But everything is quiet, whist, and still. 

MUton imitates the passage in the text rery closely in 
bii Hymn on the Nativity, line 64: 

The winds, with wonder whist. 
Smoothly the waters kist. 

8S. Line 380: Foot it fKATLT.— Dyce compares Lodge's 
QlMcas snd Scilla, 1589: 

Fo<aiMg it/tatiy on the graskie ground. 

Oonpsre Whiter's Tale, iv. 4. 170, "She dances /ea<fy." 
Bojrer hss: "Featiy, (adv. from feat) Proprement, adroile- 
»*^,ffeiUimetU." 

Ml Line 381: the burden 6ear.— This is Pope's correc- 
; ttoQ of the Ff.'s transposition, beare the burthen. The 
I mugement of the burden is that of CapelL See note 94 
loAsVoaLikelt 

•7. Line 896: fathom.— Ft. print /adorn. 

M- Line 406: The ditty doee RUfBMBBR my dromi'd 
/etker.—Rtmember is used in the sense of commemorate 
WBsntion hi I. Henry IV. v. 4. 101, and II. Henry IV. v. 
^ 141 Compare onr present use of the expression " Re- 
*"Bber me to So-and-So," which occurs in Henry VIII. 
*»• 1 WO, 161: 

Remttntbtr mm 
In all humility unto hb highness. 

il. Line 406: The frinoid curtains of think its 

AI>TAici.-Compare Pericles, Ui. 2. 99-101: 

Her tyttids, cases to those heavenly Jewels 

Which Pericles hath lost. 

Begin to part their/Wive/ of bright gold. 

^'•saee is used, as often in Shakespeare, for lift Com- 
]tts ir. L 177 below: 

Advan^d their eyelids, lifted up their noses ; 

and King John, iL 1. 207: 

These flags of France, that are iutvnctd here. 

Ml Line 427: // you be maid or noX— F. 4 reads made, 
which Warburton elaborately defends as a poetical beauty, 
npposing Ferdinand to ask Miranda if she were mortal 
at no. But see lines 447-449: 

O, (^a virgin. 
And your affection not gone forth, 1 11 make you 
The queen of Naples. 

More than two pages of the Variorum Ed. are deroted to 
a discussion of this question. 

fL Unes 437, 438: 

the Duke <^ Milan 

And hie brave eon being twain. 

nils is the only reference we get in the play to any son 

of the Duke of Milan. The reference here must hare 

■lipped in accidentally, perhaps from a remembrance of 

■ach a character in the original story. 

•f. Lines 488-440: 

The Duke t^f Milan 
And hie more braver daughter eould CONTROL CAee, 
i/new twereJUtodo't. 



Staunton queries control as pertiaps a misprint for "con- 
sole," but the word is evidentiy used here in the sense 
of "confute." Boyer, in his French Dictionary, has 
"Comptroll, S. (or Contradiction) Contradiction," and "To 
Comptroll, V.A. {or find Fault with) Controler, trouter d 
redire." The Clarendon Press ed. quotes Bacon, History 
of Henry VII., 1622: "As for the times while hee was in 
the Totcer, and the manner of his Brothers death, and 
his owne escape; shee knew they were things a verie few 
could control" (p. 116> 

98. Line 443: 1 /ear you have done youreelf eome wrong; 
i.e. I am afraid you have made a mistake, or misrepre- 
sented yourself. Compare Merry Wives, iiL 3. 221: "You 
do yourself mighty terong, Master Ford;" and Measure 
for Measure, i. 2. 41: "I think I have done myself 
wrong." 

94. Line 468: He'e gintlx, and not FlARFUL.— Both 
genUe and /earful may be interpreted in two wajrs, and 
so, pertups, Shakespeare intended. One explanation, and 
I think the best, is, "He's of gentie birth, and therefore 
no coward;" according to the other, we should under- 
stand, "He's gentie, and not capable of inspiring fear, 
not terrible." Smollett says in Humphry Clinker: " 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-epirited, he won't tamely bear an insult." 

96. Lines 468. 460: 

What, 1 eay. 

My FOOT my tutor I 

Sidney Walker conjectured that foot was a misprint for 
fool, comparing Fletcher's Pilgrim, iv. 2: 

Vfhtn/Ms and mad'folks sliall be tutors to me. 

Dyce adopts this reading, but the change seems to me, to 
say the least, unnecessary. Compare Lyly, Euphues and 
his England (ed. Arber): " Then how raine is it Euphues 
(too mylde a word for so madde a minde) that the /oote 
should neglect his office to correct the /ace " (p. 261X 
And see Timon of Athens, L 1. 92-94: 

Yet you do well 

To show Lord Timon that mean eyes hare seen 

They««r above the kettd. 

96. Line 478: Thou thintet there a no more euch ehapee 
ae he.—So Ft. Bowe printed are, which many editors 
have received. But this construction is very common in 
Shakespeare. Compare Cymbeline, iv. 2. 371: " There u 
no more such masters." Abbott, Shakespearian Grammar, 
f 336, says: " When the subject is as yet future and, as it 
were, unsettied, the third person singular might be re- 
garded as the normal inflection." He gives a number 
of examples. 

97. Line 484: TAy NBRVKS are in their infancy again.— 
Nerve is used here in the sense of sinew. See note 26 to 
Coriolanus. 

96. Lines 490-493: 

Might I but through my prieon once a-day 
Behold thie maid: all comere ^$e o' the earth 
Let liberty make uee of; epace enough 
Have I in euch a prieon. 

237 



ACT I. Scene 2. 



NOTES TO THE TEMPEST. 



ACT II. Scene 1. 



Compare Chaucer, Knightee Tale, S70-S75: 

For eUes hadde I dweld with Theseus 
I-fetered in his prison evere moo. 
Than hadde I ben in blisse, and nat in woo. 
OonJy the sighte of hire, whom that I serve. 
Though that I nevere hire iprace may deserve, 
Wolde han sufficed right ynough for me." 

One of the most interesting parts of Stendhal's Chartreuse 
4le Parme develops the same motive— the chapters where 
ITabrice is in prison. 

ACT II. Scene 1. 

99. Line 6 : The master cf tome fnerehantf and the 
merchant.— Ft. have MaeUn, a reading which can only 
be understood if we accept so roundabout an explanation 
as that given by the Clarendon Press ed., that the matters 
4^f tome merchant are "the joint owners of a merchant- 
man, who grieve for the loss of the vessel while the mer- 
chant laments the loss of the cargo." Johnson's emenda- 
tion seems obvious. Merchant in the sense of ' ' merchant- 
man " was commonly used. Compare Marlowe, Tambur- 
laine, part I. i. 2: 

And Christian tfurchants, that with Russian stems 
Plough up huge furrows in the Caspian sea. 
Shall vail to us, as lords of all the lake. 

100. Lines 18, 19. —There are similar plays upon the words 
dollar and dolour in Measure for Measure, L 2. 60; and 
Lear, ii. 4. 54. Steevens quotes The Tragedy of Hoffman, 
1637: 

And his reward be thirteen hundred dollars. 
For he hath driven dolour from our heart. 

101. Line28: ITAicA, OP Ae or Adrian. —Irregular as this 
construction is, there is no reason to suspect that it is not 
MM Shakespeare wrote it Compare Midsummer Night's 
Dream, iii. 2. 836, 337: 

Now follow, if thou dar'st. to try whose right, 
Cy thine or mine, is most in Helena. 

Sidney Walker, in his Critical Examination of Shake- 
speare's Text, vol. ii. p. 353, incidentally quotes an illus- 
trative passage from Sidney's Arcadia, ed. 1508, p. 63: 
" But then the question arising, who should be the former 
(i.e. the first to fight] against Phalantus, q^ the blacke, or 
the ill apparelled knight," Ac. 

102. Line 36: Seb. Ha, Aa, ha I—So, you 're paid.— This 
is the arrangement of Theobald. Ff. give So, you 're paid 
to Antonio, which can only be understood if we take paid 
in an ironical sense, as in Antony and Cleopatra, ii. 5. 106: 
" I am paid for 't now." This does not seem a very pro- 
bable meaning here. 

103. Line 43: Temperance teat a delicate wendi.— Names 
such as Temperance were much used among the Puritans. 
Steevens quotes Taylor the Water-poet, who, describing 
some loose women, says: 

Though bad they be, they will not bate an ace. 

To be called Prudence. Ttmftranc*, Faith, or Grace. 

Of these names, all but Temperaixoe are still met with. 
Beaders of Mehalah will remember that charming woman 
Admonition. 

101 Line 52: huh; i.e. luxuriant, succulent. Malone 
quotes Golding's translation of Ovid's Metamorphoses, xv: 

238 



Then green, and voyd of strengdi and iusA and foggy te the blade. 
And cheeres the hiishandman with hope ; 

where the original has, 

Tunc herba recena. et roboris expers 
Turget. et insoiida est. et spe delectat affrettes. 

In Midsummer Night's Dream, iL 1, line 251 is generally 
read (as in this edition) : 

Quite over-canopi'd with l»uk woodbine. 

Qq. and Ff. have luteiout. See note 124 to tliat play. 
Browning uses the word in the Prologne to his Paocfaia- 
rotto, line 5: 

And l$tsM and fithe do the creepers dotlie 
Yon wall I watch, with a wealth of green. 

106. line 55: With an XTI qfgreeti in 't— An eye means 
a small tinge, a slight shade of colour. Steevena quotes 
Sandys, Travels, 1637, p. 73: " His [Sultan Achmet's] on- 
der and upper garments are lightly of white satUn, or cloth 
of sliver tissued with an eye qf greene, and wrooght in 
great branches." 

106. Line 86 : Hit word it more than the MnULCnovs 
HARP.— An allusion either to the harp of Amphion, which 
raised the walls of Thebes, or to the harp of Apollo, which 
raised the walls of Troy. 

107. Line 94 : Oon. .iy.— Staonton gave this ezclama* 
tion to Alonso, considering it a *' sigh or exclamation on 
his awaking from his trance of grleL" Perhaps it maj be 
so, but there is no reason why it should not be uttered bj 
Oonzalo, either in an inquiring tone, not knowing what 
they mean, or as a sort of "Yes, yes, have it so if you wUL" 

lOa Lines 118, 119: 

OAR'D 

Himtelf toith hit good arms in lutty ttroke. 

The Clarendon Press ed. quotes Pope's Odyssey, zvi. 347: 
And what bless'd hands have »ar'd thee oo the way. 

Compare Tennyso^ To £. L., on his Travels in Greece, 
lines 16-18: 

and Naiads aar'd 
A glimmering shoulder under gloom 
Of cavern piDars. 

100. Lines 129-131: 

and the/air toul herte{f 
Weigh'd, between loathnett and obedience, at 
Which end o' the beam sam 'D how. 

Ff. read thould, which the Cambridge edd. retain, sup- 
posing an antecedent s^ or it to be omitted, as is some- 
times the case in Shakespeare. Bowe, in his second ed., 
omits o'; Malone regards thouUL as a contraction of ^u 
tpould, meant to be printed th 'ould. This seems the most 
reasonable supposition. On loathnett (i.e. reluctance) sec 
note 242 to Antony snd Cleopatra. 

110. Line 135: the DKAB'R o' the Urn. — Dear is fre- 
quently used in the sense of anything, pleasnrable or the 
reverse, which touches one very closely. Compare Bichard 
III. V. 2. 20, 21: 

He hath no friends but what are friends fior fear. 
Which in his dtarext need will fly fiom him. 

This is the reading of the Ff. ; the Qq. have: 

Which in hisfwaA'x/ need will thrtek tnm SSa 



ACT II. SoeiM I. 



NOTES TO THE TEMPEST. 



ACT II. Scene 1. 



Ck>ini>are, too, Fletcher, The Maid in the Mill: 

You meet your dearest enemy in love 
With all his hate about him. 

Ill Lines 150-164.— This ideal commonwealth, as has 
often been pointed out, is one of Shakespeare's debts to 
Montaigne, Livre I. ch. xxx, " Des Cannibales" (ed. Loa- 
juidre, vol. i. p. 909). The passage in Florio's translation 
is as follows: " It is a nation, I would answer Plato, that 
hath no kind of trafflke, no knowledge of Letters, no in- 
telligence of numbers, no name of magistrate, nor of poll- 
tike superioriUe; no vse of service, of riches or of povertie; 
no contracts, no successions, no partitions, no occupation 
bat idle; no respect of kinred, but common, no apparell 
but naturall, no manuring of lands, no vse of wine, come, 
or mettle. The very words that import lying, falsehood, 
treason, dissimulation, oovetousness, envie, detraction, 
and pardon, were never heard of amongst them" (p. 102). 
Malone imagined that it was this essay which caused 
Shakespeare to make the scene of his play a desert island, 
and adds: " The title of the chapter, which is—' Of the 
Caniballes'— evidently furnished him with the name of 
one of his characters. In his time almost every proper 
iiame was twisted into an anagram. Thus,—' I 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^ Shake- 
speare (as Dr. Farmer long since observed) formed the 
name of Caliban." 

112. Line 152: tUth; i.e. tillage. The word occurs only 
here and in Measure for Measure, iv. 1. 76. See note 162 
to that play. 

113. Line 181: an it had not fallen flat-long.— F/af- 
long is used for a blow g^ven, not with the edge, but with 
the side, of the sword. Compare fiatling in The Faerie 
Queene, v. 5. 18: 

Tho with her sword on htm sheyKa/ZiM^ strooke. 

114. Line 186: We would so, and CA^nyo a bat-fowling. 
— Bat-fowling is defined in Boyer's French Dictionary: 
*'ChasBeauxoiseanx pendant la Nult" A very elaborate 
description of the sport is given by Oervase Markham in 
bis Hanger's Prevention, 1621: " For the manner of Bat- 
fowling it may be vsed either with Nettes, or without 
Nettes: If you vse it without Nettes (which indeede is the 
most common of the two) you shall then proceede in this 
manner. First, there shall be one to cary the Cresset of 
lire (as was shewed for the Lowbell) then a certaine num- 
ber as two, three, or fonre (according to the greatnesse 
<rf yoor company) and these shall haue poales bound with 
dry round wispes of hay, straw, or such like stuffe, or else 
boand with pieces of Linkes, or Hurdes, dipt in Pitch, 
Bosen, Orease, or any such like matter that will blaze. 

*' Then another company shal be armed with long poales, 
very rough and bushy at the vpper endes, of which the 
Willow, Byrche, or long Hazell are best, but indeed ac- 
eording as the country will afford so you must be content 
to take. 

** Thus being prepared and comming into the Bushy, or 
roogh ground where the haunts of Birds are, you shall 
then Arst kindle some of your flers as halfe, or a third 
pari, according as yoor prouision is, and then with your 



other bushy and rough poales you shall beat the Bushes, 
Trees, and haunts of the Birds, to enforce them to rise, 
which done you shall see the Birds which are raysed, to 
flye and play about the lights and flames of the fler, for 
it is their nature through their amazednesse, and affright 
at the strangenes of the light and the extreame darknesse 
round about it, not to depart from it, but as it were al- 
most to scorch their wings in the same; so that those who 
have the rough bushye poales, may (at their pleasum) 
beat them down with the same, & so take them. Thus 
you may spend as much of the night as is darke, for longer 
is not conuenient; and doubtlesse you shall flnde much 
pastime, and take great store of birds, and in this you 
shall obserue all the obseruaUons formerly treated of in 
the Lowbell; especially, that of silence, vntill your lights 
be kindled, but then you may vse your pleasure, for the 
noyse and the light when they are heard and seene a farre 
of, they make the birds sit the faster and surer" (pp. 98- 
100). 

115. Line 221: / am standing water; i.e. neither flowing 
nor ebbing, midway, passive, easily influenced. Compare 
Twelfth Night, i. 5. 168: "'tis with him in standing 
water, between boy and man." 

116. Line 226: J?6&tn^tn«n.— Compare Antony and Cleo- 
patra, L 4. 43: 

And the ebb'd man, ne'er lov'd till ne'er worth love, 
Comes dear'd by being lack'd. 

117. Lines 230, 231: 

a birth, indeed, 

Which THROES THEK much to yield. 
Compare Antony and Cleopatra, iii. 7. 81, 82: 

With news the time 's witli labour, and throes forth 
Each minute some. 

lia Lines 242, 243: 

Ambition cannot pierce a witik beyond. 
But DOUBT discovery there. 

Capell reads dotdtUt, and he has been generally followed. 
But the change does not seem to me to be necessary, as 
we may very well understand doubt as dependent on the 
preceding cannot— i.e. cannot but be doubtful as to dis- 
covering anything there. 

119. Lines 250. 251: 

she from whom 

We all were sea^swallow'd. 

This is the generally accepted emendation of Kowe. Ff. 
print "She that from whom," of which several acute 
critics have tried hard to make sense. Accepting Bowes 
emendation, the passage of course simply means "coming 
from whom." Spedding very ingeniously suggests that 
the reading should be punctuated: '* She that— from 
whomt All were sea-swallow'd," Ac.', that is, "From 
whom should she have note? The report from Naples 
will be that all were drowned. We shall be the only sur- 
vivors." This punctuation has been finally adopted by 
the Globe edd. But it seems to me that the construction 
is incredibly broken, and though Spedding says that to 
him the break in the construction is characteristic of the 
speaker, I cannot think of any other speech of Antonio's 
at all similarly broken. Mr. Aldis Wright, in the Claren- 

239 



ACTIL 



1. 



NOTES TO THE TEMPEST. 



▲crn 



don Frew ed., praenrlng the F. text literuiim, foggeste 
tiimt ** there to a oonfailoii of two oomtrnctioiit; Antonio 
beginning a fresh sentenoe, as he hsd done the three 
prerions ones, with 'she that^' and then changing abruptly 
to 'from whom,' which made the pieoeding lelatlTe naper- 
flooos." Bat to it not more probable that the repetition of 
the that came, not fhim Antonio, bat from the printer? 
Nothing ooald be more nataraL 

UOl Line fM: A ceouoH <{^ om deep dha#.— Compare 
All's Well, iT. L 22: "chougtu' laagoage, gabble enoagfa, 
and good enoagh.'* 

in. Line 278: feaZtr; £.«. more trimly. See note 86. 

UX. Line 270: a kOf; Le. achflblsin. Compare Hamlet, 
T. L 162, 163: " the toe of the peasant comes so near the 
heel of the courtier, he galto hto kibe;" and Lear, i. 6. 8, 9: 
"If a man's brains were in 's heeto, were 't not in danger 
of kibetf" See Jonson, the Alchemist, L 1: 

Your feet in mouldy sli|^penk for jrour liAtx . 

128. Lines 282-284: 
1/ he were that uthieh now he '$ lOv, THAT '8 dead; 
Whom I, with this obedient eteel, three inehee qf it. 
Can lay to bed/or ever. 

" The words that '« dead" sajrs Farmer, " are evidently a 
gloss, or marginal note, which had found its way into the 
text Such a supplement to useless to the speaker's mean- 
ing, and one of the verses becomes redundant by its in- 
sertion." Thto conjecture seems to me a very reasonable 
one, though not certain enough to be adopted into the 
text 

124. Line 290: to keep THEM living.— Dyce prints thee, 
but the change, though plausible, seems unnecessary, as 
similar changes of construction are not uncommon in 
Shakespeare. Them evidently refers to Oonxalo and 
Alonso. 

126. Lines 800-800. —In the dtotribution of these speeches 
I have followed Dyce, who partly followed Staunton. 
The Ff. print: 

Gpn. Now, good An^b preseme the King. 
AU. Why how now hoa; awake t why are you drawn f 
Wheref(H« this ^(t>MAj looking r 
GcH. What's the matter? 

Staunton made the change— rightly, as I think— on the 
authority of Oonsalo's words Just after (317-820): 
Upon mine honour, lir, I heard a humming;. 
And that a ttrange one too, which did awake me: 
I thak'd you, lir, and cried: as mine eyes open'd, 
I saw their weapons drawn. 

It is evident from thto that Oonxalo wss the first to awake, 
and that he roused the king; which renders the redtotri- 
bution of the speeches necessary. 

128. Line 821: That '« VEEILT.— It to likely enough that 
thto is a misprint for verHy, and Pope's emendation right 
But adverbs certainly were used by Shakespeare for ad- 
jectives, as in i. 2. 226, 227: 

Smfity in harbour 
Is the king's ship; 

and Coriolanus, iv. 1. 68: "That's wwiKiXy." 

240 



ACT IL SCESTB 2. 

127. Line 8: By inek-meml; ie. incfatajiMh, a 
meal, which we still use. In Cymbeline, iL 4. 1 
speare uses Umh-meal in a similar senae: 

O. that I had her here, to tear her Hmak-meel 

The termination "-meal ** to fhNB the An^k>4aju 
the dative of sMsf, a part. 



188. LineO:C*alMOwaiMfc*aCterc<aM.- 
47, where the word to osed as a noon. Ittooalj 
noon in two other places— HamleC, iL 2. 881* 88 
that woaM make moiot at him while my Citt 
and Cymbeline, i. 6. 41: *' Contemn with mmm tl 
In the former passsge the Qq. read " movths^ 
expression " to make mouths'* (as we now say, 
faces") occurs in Hamlet, iv. 4. 60, and Mi 
Night's Dream, iU. 2. 288. The original word « 
which means grimaces. Coles, in his Latin D 
gives: "A nx>w [mock] lahrorum diduetie;" 
mow, labra diducere, vultum dt os duferytwrr." 

128. Line 21: bombard; Le. a large flagon made < 
Compare I. Henry IV. iL 4. 488, 497: "that swolTi 
dropsies, that huge bombard of sack;" and He 
V. 4. 86, 86: 

And here ye lie baiting of b«imtmrds, wIwb 
Ye shoukl do serrke. 

18a Lines28-34: Were I in England now, •» a 
and had but thie/Uh painted, Ac.— Such exhiblf 
frequent in Shakespeare's time. Malone qootei 
office-book of Sir Henry Herbert: "A license 
Scale to shew a ttrange /ah for half a yeare, 
September, 1632." The dead Indian may perh 
allusion to the Indians brought to En^^and bj fi 
Frobisher in 1576. 

181. Line 40: gaberdine. —See Merchant o 
note 08. 

188. Line 62: For the had a tongue with a TAl 
pare Twelfth Night, ii. 6. 163: " let thy tongue I 
ments of state." In both places the word se< 
used of a loud unpleasant sound, like tiMi^. 
hto French Dictionary, has "Tang, or tack; ai 
in meat" 

133. Line 66: tehile Stephana breathes AT HC 
Ff. read at' noetrils, which the Cambridge edd. 
noHrHt. But compare Julius Caesar, L 2. 264, 
fell down in the market-place, and foam'd at wh 

134. Line 73: any emperor that ever trod < 
(eafAer.— Compare Julius Cesar, L 1. 20, 80: "^ 
men as ever trod upon neat'e leather have gi 
my handiwork." Boyer, in hto French Dictio 
" Vacbe (ou Cuir de Vache) NeaU Leather.** 

136. Lines 88, 84: / know it by thy TRBMBI 

Proeper works upon thee. — Compare Comedy c 

iv. 4. 64: 

Mark how he tremkUs in his ecstasy I 

The Clarendon Press ed. quotes Harsnet's Deeli 
Poptoh Impostures, 1003: " AU the spirito with n 
being commaunded to goe downe into her left fi 



ACT IL Scene 2. 



NOTES TO THE TEMPEST. 



ACT III. Scene 1. 



did it with vehement trembling, and shaking of her leg" 
(pp. 68, 59X 

136. Line 86: here is that which tcill give language to 
you, OAT.— An allusion to the proverb, that good liquor 
will make a cat speak. For oaf, as a term of abuse, see 
Midsummer Night's Dream, iiL 2. 260: 

Hang off, thou cat, thou burr 1 vile thing, let loose. 

137. Line 103: / hate no long spoon. — Compare Comedy 
of EntMV, iv. 3. 64, 66: "Marry, he must have a long spoon 
that must eat with the devlL" The proverb is frequently 
•Uuded to in the old writers. 

188. Line 110: fnoo»-ca(^. — Nares quotes Holland's 
Pliny, viL 16: " A false conception called Mola, i.«. a moone 
ea^fe, that is to say, a lumpe of flesh without shape, with- 
out life, and so hard withall, that uneth a knife will 
enter and pierce it either with edge or point" Coles, 
In hii Latin Dictionary, has "A moon-calf, partus lu- 
narit," and fioyer renders Mole, "a Tympany or Moon- 
ctlt" Drayton has a poem called The Mooncalf. 

138. Line 126: sack.— See note 41 to I. Henry IV. 

140. Line 144: My mistress showd me thee, and thy 
dtS, and thy &u«A.— Compare Midsummer Night's Dream, 

y. L 136, 137: 

This man, with lanthom, ^o/^, and bush of thorn. 
Presenteth Moonshine. 

The huith was the bundle of sticks for which the " Man 
in the Moon " was condemned to his exile, according to 
the story which identifies him with the Sabbath-breaking 
Imelite in Numbers xv. 

141. Unes 176, 176: 

sometimes I 'II get thee 

Young BCAXELS/rom the rock. 
TUi is the reading of the Ff., but the word is quite un- 
known elsewhere. Ten substitutes have been proposed, 
nch u tea-mells, shamois, stannels, staniels, but without 
uy certainty or particular probability. Holt stated that 
MMiwss in some places used for a limpet, and that scarnels 
*M probably a diminutive. But he does not tell us where 
these places are. Since then, Stevenson, in his Birds of 
Norfolk (iL 260), states that the gunners of Blakeuey call 
the female Bar-tailed Oodwit, seamel. But as these birds 
>R not known to breed among the roclcs, the identifica- 
tion is only partial — unless we suppose that Shakespeare 
Bsde a mistake as to their habits, a supposition not so 
incredible as it has seemed to some. 

148. Line 187: trencher.— Yf. have trenehering, no doubt 
s misprint through confusion with the /iring and requir- 
ing of the preceding lines. The correction was made by 
iV>pe, after Dryden. 

141 Line 190: hey-day! — Ff. print high-day, and in 
oihfer placet of Shakespeare hoy-day. 

ACT IIL Scene 1. 

144 Line 2: seta o/.— This is Bowe's correction; Ff. 
have set eg. 

M. Lines 14, 15: 

BiU these sweet thoughts do even refresh my labours, 

Mmt Bi/auHT ieJk«n I do it 

VOL. VIL 



The only real difficulty in this passage is in the last im- 
perfect line. F. 1 reads: 

Most tusie Ust, when I doe it. 

The question is whether lest really belongs to the word 
Inuie, or whether it was meant to be another word, viz. 
least, or left. The numerous emendations, suggested by 
various editors and commentators, and what may be 
called the vast undisciplined army of amateur emendators, 
reflect more credit upon their ingenuity than upon their 
common sense. Among the various conjectures we may 
mention Spedding's 

Most diisiesl when idlest, 

a very pretty antithesis; that of the Cambridge edd. : 

Most busy U/t wlien idlest; 

and the most sensible of all, that of Bray: 

Most busy tufun least I do it. 

Some are content to adopt the meaning of the latter read* 
ing, but to leave the words as arranged in the text, 
merely altering the punctuation of F. 1 by adding a comma 
after busy instead of after lest, reading thus: 

Most busy, least when I do it ; 

Ferdinand's meaning being that he is wont busy, i.e. 
" most occupied with his thoughts when idlest with his 
hand." This is pretty nearly a paraphrase of the explan- 
ation of the line, as g^ven by Verplanck and followed by 
Rolfe, who both adopted this arrangement of the words. 
This emendation (substantially) was proposed in Notes 
and Queries (7th S. vii. 604) by Mr. H. Wedgwood, who 
would read: 

Most busy least when I do. 

He says that the reading "occurred to him in sleep;" but 
it was hardly necessary, one would have thought, to go to 
sleep to arrive at such a ver>' simple conclusion. In Notes 
and Queries (7th S. vii. 403) Mr. R. M. Spence proposes 
quite a new reading : 

I forget 
But these sweet thoughts; do even refresh my labours 
Most busiest, when I do it ; 

which he explains thus: "In prose the whole passage 
would read thus: ' I forget everything but these sweet 
thoughts, and when I do so my busiest labours, instead of 
wearying, even refresh me. ' " As far as the removal of 
the colon of F. 1 goes, and the inverted construction, 
awkward as it is, of do even refresh my labours — "my 
labours even do refresh me" this conjecture may \\e de- 
fended; but it seems to me that all these ingenious conjec- 
tures are utterly unnecessary Because the word lent or 
leeut, in connection with most, suggests some antithesis, 
it does not follow that any was intended: while Shake- 
speare is so fond of the use of the double superlative, e.g. 
in the well-known passage in Julius Caesar (iii. 2. 187): 

This was the most unJtindest cut of all; 

and Hamlet, ii. 2. 122 : ''Omost 6e»f,'— especially where he 
wants to be emphatic, as he does here,— that it really seems 
to me unnecessary to go beyond the text, as it stands in 
F. 1, for the true reading of the passage. It is most pro- 
bable that Shakespeare intended to write the superlative 
of busily, an adverb whiphhe uses in two passages, I. Henry 
IV. V. 6. 38, and Titus Andronicus, iv. 1. 46. Mr. Spence, 
in hJi communication already referred to, mentions 
busiliest as having been suggested by Mr. John Bulloch ; 

241 i«a 



ACT III. Seme L 



NOTES TO THE TEMPEST. 



ACTIIL 



miMl be remarks " Uj fonn kts word, he has had to knock 
oot tA tht text aa e and iniert an t." Bat really it is 
diflkmlt Ujt inu^^ine a more likely blander Ujt the printer 
Ut fall into, than Uj (Aint UuirieUst or hune Ust for hut'lyest 
or bvM'lie*t, as the vord might have l»een vritten in the 
31 ri. Mr. Holcombe Ingleljy (Note* and Qaeriea, 7th 8. 
rJL S04;: " Were btuOut anakjgoos to the ewrUett in 'Cjm- 
lieline' I sboold prefer that reading, as reqairing only 
the slii^tcst alteration ; bat as the analogy viU not huM^ 
perfaapa tmnart is the reading to be frt^fened." I most 
confess myself I do m/t see any difDcolty aboat the fc«m 
btuUutt; bat, bowerer, btuiegt is perhaps the word which 
Hhakespeare really intended to write when he foond that 
ttie saperlative of the adverb, butUiest^ was not pleasant 
Ut the ear. 

The reailing we have adopted may seem, when compared 
with some of the Tarious emendations giren above, to be a 
little commonplace: bat we prefer to rest ander that impa- 
tation rather than Ut try and alter .Shakespeare's text, when 
neither sound nor sense aljsolately demands it. Speaking 
personally, if I ventured on any emendations in this passage 
it would be, in line U, U> substitute ever for even, by which 
slight alteration, perhaps, the sequence of Fenlinand's 
thoughts would be more easily followed. The meaning of 
the passage is clear: "I forget the task I have to do: but 
these sweet thoughts do even refresh my latxiurs — dull as 
they are" — or reading eoer" do always refresh my labours ;" 
then he adds, as a sort of after thou^t, " and they are 
most busy, i.e. tnuriest in refreshing them, when I am actu- 
ally <jccupied in my labour." We might have expected 
them instead of it, but the change to the singular is ver}' 
naturaL Does it not refer to the 9ore injunetion (line ll)or 
to the tnean ta«Jlr01ne4) which her " crabbed father" enjoins 
him to do? Indeed if we give to it this meaning, and re- 
memljer that it would include as a contrast to the noeet 
tenderness of his "sweet mistress," the equally sweet 
thoughts which her tender sympathy suggests, it is more 
forcible than them.— v. A. M. 

146. Lines 37, 38: 

Admir'd Miraiida! 

Indeed the TOP OF admiratio.h. 

There is, of coarse, a play here upon the meaning of the 
name Miranda. With iojt of admiration compare Measure 
for Measure, ii. 2. 76: " He, which is the top of judgment." 
See note 74 to that play. 

147. Line 53: / am 8KILLES8 qf.- Skillets is uAed for 
ignorant in R4)meo and Juliet, iii. 3. 132, and Troilus and 
Cressida, i. 1. 12. In Twelfth Night, iii. 3. 9, we have 
*'nkilleMif in these parts," i.e. unac<iaainted with them. 

148. Line 62: Thie wooden slavery than to ntffer.— This 

line is wanting in a foot, which Dyce supplied by tamely. 

Vope read " than / would suffer," which not only improves 

the metre, but makes the construction more regular. But 

apart fi-oni this emendation l>eing a sheer conjecture, the 

faulty construction is quite common in Shakespeare. 

Compare Tiniun of Athens, iv. 2. 33, 34: 

Who'd be so mockM with Klt^iyT or to live 
liut in a (Iream of friend^hipt 

149. Line 7(): fiollowly.— This word is used again in 
Measure for MeaMure, ii. 3. 22, 23: 

242 



AAd tjy rn* poisaoe. irk be : 
*jr hAlemij pat OB. 

Ua Line 98: Wh» mrr rurpritd 
with ail, which some editors retain, to tLie 
I think, of the sense. The sense eridesolty is: ^ I 
be so glad of this as they, bat I am boc <mdy glad bat 
prised too. ' 

ACT in. ScEfE ± 



151. Line 3: Servaui-memtUr.— There is ai 
this in Ben Jonsoo s Bartholomew Fair, 1C14, ladoctioB 
*' If there be never a servant wumtter in tke fair, who earn 
help it, he says, nor a nest of antiqoes? be is lott ta 
make nature afraid in his plays, like tboae that bcfi i 
tales, tempests, and such like drollenca. ~ 

ISZ. Une 29: debosk'd.-Thu U the only speilbig e= 
" debauched used by Shakespeare. Oolea, Latin Dittiwi 
ary, has: " To debosh, eomtmpo, ad rvq^iiimm mMsml.^ 
DeboAed is still the vulgar prononciation oi the word. 

153. Line 41: mutineer.- The xtntm general fonnof dfc 
word in Shakespeare s time was mutiner. As sodi it <^m 
curs in Coriolanus, L 1. 254. Cotgimve has " Mutinsts^K 
m. A mutiner." Compare muUten in I. Heniy VL UL t 
6)», and see note 223 to Antony and Cleopatra. 

154. Line 79: make a stock-jiek </ thee.— The CiaitoM^m 
Press ed. quotes Cotgrave, s.v. Carillon: " le te froCterav 
k double cariUon. I will beat thee like a stockfish, I vflf 
scourge thee while I may stand oner thee." 

156. Line 96: I did not give the lie.-V. 4 inserts thtt, 
but unnecessarily. Trinculo's suriy answer is more ■«<■* 
ral without the word than with it. 

156. Line 96: then thou maytt brain him.— ft »' 
most edd. read there. The emendation adopted oocbiti' 
independently to Collier's MS. Corrector and to Djrce. K 
seems to me the correction of an obvious misprint Sse 
too the subsequent " Wilt thoo destroy him thenf" Then 
is no question of place, only of time—" the afternoon.'* 

157. Line 101: a sot.— Sot is used here, as alvil* 
Shakespeare, in the sense of the French tot, a fooL t^ 
meaning we now attach to it is a secondary one Bo|tf> 
in his French Dictionary, renders the French sol, "aSoii 
or Fool, a silly Man, a simpleton, a block-head." 

158. Line 105: Which, u^ien he kat a kouse, ke'U MCt 
iri^Aot— Hanmer reads deek't, but the confused constrW' 
Uon was probably Shakespeare's. 

159. Line 127: whiU-ere; i.e. erewhOe, formerly— the 
only use of the word in Shakespeare. In the Ff. it is spelt 
whileare. Compare Spenser, Faerie Queene, i. 9. 28: 

That cursed wight, from whom I scapt w^eart, 
A man of hell, that calls hims^ Dispaire. 

160. Line 131: Flout 'em and SCOUT 'em, and teout 'em 
and flout 'em.— The first tcmtt is printed in Ff. eot<f. 

161. Line 132: Thought w/re«.— Compare Twelfth Night, 
i. 3. 73, and see note 25 to that play. 

162. Line 136: <Aepicfui-eQ/'Ao6ody. —Reed understands 
this as an allusion 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 1<X»; " Halli- 




ACT III. Scene 2. 



NOTES TO THE TEMPEST. 



ACT III. Scene 3. 



veil thinks it refers to a figure (consisting only of head, 
tfms, and legs) illustrating a popular ballad, The Well- 
•poken Xobody. 

163. Line 146: a thoiuatvd TWANOLINQ instrument*.-^ 
Bee note 81 to The Taming of the Shrew. 

161 Line 161: Trin. Wilt come 9 I'll follow, Stephana.— 

&itMn would give the first clause to Stephano, and he has 

mucli appearance of reason on his side; but on the whole 

•I think the F. reading the best, and Heath right in his 

explanation that the Wilt come in addressed to Caliban, 

** irho, vexed at the folly of his new companions idly run- 

alng After the musick, while they ought only to have 

«4ttended to the main point, the dLspatching Prospero, 

•<9g ms, for some little time, to have staid behind." 

ACT III. Scene 3. 
166. Line 2: acA^.— So F. 2; F. 1 has akes. 

166. Lines 2, 3: 

here '$ a maze trod, indeed, 

Through forth-riffhts and meanders! 
Ooinpare Troilus and Cressida, iii. 3. 157, 15S: 

if you give way, 
Ur hedge aside from the ditcct/arth-rt^'h/. 

It explains that there is an allusion to an artificial 
i, "sometimes constructed of straight lines (forth- 
v^htt), sometimes of circles (meanders)." 

167. Line 21: A living drollery; Le. sl puppet-show in 

"ViUch the performers are alive. Compare Beaumont and 

letcher's Valentinian, iL 2: " I had rather make a drollery 

tm thirty." The word is used again by Shakespeare, in 

n, Henry IV. ii. 1. 156: "a pretty slight drollery;" but 

this more probably means a humorous painting. 

166. Lines 22, 23: 

in Arabia 

There is one tree, the phoenix' throne. 

Mslone quotes Lyly's Euphues [ed. Arber, p. 312] : " For 
M there is bat one Phoenix in the world, so is there but 
<Kietree in Arabia, where-in she buyldeth." Steevens cites 
BoUand's Pliny, book x. ch. 2: " I myself verily have heard 
*tnoge things of this kind of tree; and namely in regard 
of the bird Phoenix, which is supposed to have taken that 
luune of this date tree [called in Greek, ^•/><{1 ; for it was 
avored unto me, that the said bird died with that tree, 
^ revived of itselfe as the tree sprung again. ' Compare 
^e Phflenix and the Turtle, 1-3: 

I^t the bird of loudest lay, 
On the sole Arabian tree. 
Herald sad and trumpet be. 

186. Line 29: idanders.—¥. 1 has Islands; the error is 
corrected in F. 2. 

170. Line 39: Praise in departing.— This was a prover- 
iiial expression. Hazlitt (English Proverbs, p. 318) gives: 
''Praise at parting, and behold well the end. " 

171. Lines 44, 45: 

mountaineers 

DewAapp'd like bulls. 

Evidently an allusion to the sufferers from goitre among 
the Alps and other mountainous districts. Steevens re- 



fers to an account of them, accessible to Shakespeare, in 
Maundeville's Travels, 1503. 

172. Lines 46, 47: 

such men 

Whose heads stood in their breasts. 
Compare Othello, i. 3. 144, 145: 

The Anthropophagi, and men whose heads 
Do grow beneath their shoulders. 

Steevens quotes Holland's Pliny, bk. v. ch. 8: "The 
Blemmyi, by report, haue no heads, but mouth and eies 
bot^ in their breasts; " and Malone cites Hakluyt's Voy- 
ages: " 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." 

173. Line 48: Each putter-out of five for one. — 
Steevens says: " In this age of travelling, it was a prac- 
tice with those who engaged in long and hazardous expe- 
ditions, to place out a sum of money on condition of re- 
ceiving 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 [iL 1] : " 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 
Ktvaefive thousand pound, to be paid me jive for one, upon 
the return of myself and wife, and my dog, from the 
Turk's court in Constantinople." ITiirlby conjectured 
that the passage should be read: " Each putter-out of one 
for five," a reading adopted by Malone; Theobald read 
"on five for one." But as it stands the meaning is obvious: 
''at the rate of five for one." 

174. Line 52: Stage - direction. "Enter Ariel, like a 
harpy," Ac. —Steevens quotes Phaer's translation of Vir- 
gil, ^neid, iii. : 

faste to meate we fall. 
But sodenly from downe the hills with grisly fall to s)rght. 
The harpies come, and beating wings with great noys out thei shright. 
And at our meate they snatch. 

MUton adopts the same device in Paradise Regained, iL 
401-403: 

with that 
Both tables and provisions vanish 'd quite. 
With sound of harpies' wings, and talons heard. 

176. Line 65: One DOWLE that's in my plume.— Dmele 
is used for a fibre of down: the words doten and dowle are 
apparently equivalent Steevens (Var. Ed. xv. 128) gives 
the following communication from Mr. Toilet: " In a 
small book, entitled Humane Industry: or, A History of 
most Manual Arts, printed in 1661, page 03, is the follow- 
ing passage: 'The wool-bearing trees In Ethiopia, which 
Virgil speaks of, and the Eriophori Arbores in Theophras- 
tus, are not such trees as have a certain wool or dowl upon 
the outside of them, as the small cotton; but short trees 
that bear a ball upon Uie top, pregnant with wool, which 
the Syrians call Cott, the Onccians Gossypium, the Ital- 
ians Bombagio, and we Bombase." The Clarendon Press 
ed. says that the word is still used in Gloucestershire. See 
Notes and Queries, Second Series, viii. 483: "the plumage 
of young goslings before they have feathers Is called 
dowle." Coles, in his Latin Dictionary, has: " Young dowl, 
lanugo." Boyer (French Dictionary) gives: "Dowl, v. 
Down, au premier sens." 

243 



ACT III. Scene 3. 



NOTES TO THE TEMPEST. 



ACT IV. Some L 



176. Lioe 81: hearti-iorrouf.—Ft. hare hearU-tonmo; 
the reading in the text is Bowe't. The Cambridge edd. 
print heart-»orrow. 

177. Lines 86, 87: 

voith good life^ 

And dbservaUan itrange. 
That Lb, says Johnson, " with exact presentation of their 
several characters, with observation strange of [rare at- 
tention to] their particular and distinct parts. " The Clar- 
endon Press ed. compares, for this use of <^«, Much Ado, 
ii. 3. 110: "There was never counterfeit of passion came 
so near the life of passion as she discovers it" 

178. Line 92: tphom they iuppou i» (froum'd.— This is of 

course a mingling of two constructions, as in King John, 

iv. 2. 164-166: 

the grave 

Of Arthur, whom they say is kiU'd to-oight 

On your suggestion. 

ACT IV. Scene 1. 

179. Line 3: a THBXADqfmine oum li/e.—Yt. print thirds 
which, says Dyce, "is raUier an old spelling than a mis- 
take: in early books we occasionally find third for thrid^ 
i.e. thread. (The fomi thrid occurs in Dryden, and, I 
believe, in still more recent writers.)" Sir John Hawkins 
quotes Mucedonis, 1619, sig. C,: 

To cut in twaine the twisted third of hfe. 

180. Lines 13, 14: 

Then, tu my gift, and thine oum acquisition 
Worthily purchas'd, take my daughter. 

Vt. print ffuetit, an obvious misprint for gui/t, as the word 

is printed in line 8. 

181. Line 15- 1/ thou dost break her virgin-knot, <&c 
— Compare Pericles, iv. 2. 160: 

Untied I still my virsm-knot will keep. 

The allusion is to the Roman marriage ceremony, in 
which the husband untied the bride's maiden girdle. 

182. Line 18: jVo sweet aspersion shall the heavens let 
faU.— Aspersion is used here in its primitive sense of 
sprinkling, frum the Latin aspergo. The Clarendon Press 
ed. quotes Bacon, Advancement of Learning, ed. Wright, 
i. 6. {9: "So in this and very many other places in that 
law, there is to be found, besides the theological sense, 
much aspersion of philosophy" (p. 47)— where the word, 
as in the text, means sprinkling. 

183. Line 41: Some VANITY qfmine art.— That is, some 
illusion. Stecvens quotes from the then unpublished 
romance of Emare, 105: 

The einperour sayde on hygli, 

Sertes thys ys a fayry. 

Or ellys a vanyt^. 

— Kitscm, Romances, ii. ao8. 

184. Line 43: a ftm'niir. —Compare Taming of the Shrew, 
ii. 1. 312: " in a tvoink she won me to her love." Nares 
quotes Ferrex and Porrex: 

Of him, a perelcss prince, 
Sonne to a king, and in the flower of youth. 
Even with a twinke, a senseless stock I saw. 

— Dodsley's Old Plays, ed. Reed. i. 148. 

The word is still used in the Northamptonshire dialect 

185. Line 64: Or else good night your tow .'—Compare 

244 



Taming of the Shrew, il L SOS: " Is this your speedii«t 
nay, then, good night our part / " We still use " good-byt 
to " with a similar meaning. 

186. Line 57: a corollary; i.e. a sorphu. Cotgrsve hai: 
" Corolaire: m. A CoroUarie; a surplusage, overplui, sddi- 
Uon to, vantage aboue measure." 

187. Line 58: pertly; i.e, briskly. Compare MidnmuMr 
Night's Dream, L L IS: 

Awake the /erf and nimble spuit of mirth, 
and see note 6 to that play. 

18& Line 63: stover.— The word is still used for the 
fodder made of clover and artificial grasses. Id the KKb 
century it had a wider application, and meant almoitiiiy 
kind of winter fodder. The Clarendon Press ed qnotM 
Tusser's Five Hundred Points of Good Husbandly (ei 
Mavor), p. 47: 

Thresh barley as yet, but as need sbaD require, 
Fresh tlireshed for stover, thy cattle desire : 

and p. 60: 

Senre rye-straw first, then wheat-straw and pease. 
Then oat-straw and barley, then hay if ye please : 
But serve them with hay, while the straw stevtr last. 
Then love they no straw, they had rather to fast. 

Coles, in hlB Latin Dictionary, renders it by '' pahvX'S!^^ 

189. Line 64: Thy banks vHth PIONSD and TWniD 
brims. — F. 1 reads: 

Thy baukes with picntd, and tvUted brims, 

which we, in common with the Cambridge edd. vA. 
others, have followed, rather than accept either d tte 
two proposed emendations for pioned; that of Wsrbll^ 
ton, pionied, or that of Steevens, peonied; both of wUdi 
words are practically the same, as the peony is csDfld is* 
differently jtiony or peony. Still more absurd is SteewB* 
proposed substitute for twiUed, namely, lilied, betveo 
which and Howe's suggestion, tuliped, there is little to 
choose. Capell adopted Holt's tilled, which is simply* 
pleonasm; because there is no doubt, though Sbsko> 
speare himself does not use the word elsewhere tbso iB 
tl^s passage, tiiat pioned or pyonxed meant "digged" ^ 
"tiUeil." 

An immense amount of unnecessary ingenuity btf 
been spent in seeking to bewilder the reader as to tii^ 
meaning of this passage. Let us look at the context Iri* 
is addressing Ceres: 

thy rich leas 
Of wheat, rye, barley, retches, oats, and pease ; 
Thy turfy mountains, where live nibbling slieep, 
And flat meads thatch'd with stover, them to keep ; 
Thy banks with pioned and twilled brims. 
Which spongy April at thy best betrims. 
To make cold nymphs chaste crowns. 

Now it is quite clear that, if the banks of this stream 
exhibited the extraordinary phenomenon of being orna- 
mented with peonies, a flower which, whatever any writer 
may say, has never been really found wild in £nglaod— 
the only quasi-wild ones being, undoubtedly, casual plants 
escaped from cultivation— what need was there for 
"spongy April " to betrim them further? Shakespeare 
was far too observant, at least of the superficial features 
of the country— and, indeed, as has been shown in pre* 
vious notes, he often looked a long way below the surface 
—to represent such a monstrosity as masses of pwmm 



ACT IV. Socne 1. 



NOTES TO THE TEMPEST. 



ACT IV. Scene 1. 



ooconing by the tide of an ordiDary English stream. LUied 

niight perhaps be allowed— if flags were lilies; but even 

Uie lily of the valley does not grow by the side of English 

■tresmi; while the only member of the LUium family 

foond wild in England {LUium Martagon, or Turk's-cap 

IflyX i> not native, and grows only in woods. Shake- 

•pesre had often walked alongside the streams of War- 

vidahire; and he had observed how the action of the 

*Yter, as well as that of the water-rats or water-voles, 

makes holes in the banks; and by constantly turning 

'^esh earth up to the surface, which fresh earth is kept 

mofit by the acUon of the water, furnishes the most 

'ertile ground for wild flowers to grow. Who has ever 

Sone botanizing near a river, and has not instinctively 

*oiig^t for the richest and most luxurious specimens 

>i«arest the bank? Nature there supplies of itself the 

lAlwur of tillage, which I take to be Shakespeare's exact 

na«sDing in this passage; namely, that the ground, prepared 

l^v the reception of the flowers, is filled with flowers by 

'^XMil, the first month in which our beautiful wild flora 

lly commenees to bloom. 

Jki torpiotied used for digged, see Spenser's Fairy Queen, 

ii. c. 11: 

Which to outbarre. with painefull fyonings 
From sea to sea he heapt a mighty mound. 

TwQUd presents far more difficulty than pioned; it 

not seem to appear in any of the old dictionaries, 

the Promptorium Parvulorum downwards. It is 

even to be found in Johnson; and " was flrst added 

^ Todd," according to Skeat, who further says : " The 

^Oid is Low German, and has reference to the peculiar 

■^ttiod of doubling the warp-threads, or taking two of 

^Ikwi together; it was probably introduced by Platt- 

d^tsch workmen into the weaving trade, which con- 

i^ccted us so much with the Low Countries." I have not 

■■cceeded in finding any instance of the use of the word 

in any other of the Elizabethan writers, or even in those 

of the seventeenth century. Richardson gives " Tetcell. 

Written by Holland, tuiU. Fr. Tuiau, tuijau, a pipe, quill, 

cuie, reed, canel (Cotgrave)." The Imperial Dictionary 

tfres: "[Perhaps a corruption of quUl; comp. twUt for 

f*>tt]Areed;aqaill;aspooltowindyamon. [Provincial ]" 

Compare qtiiU (see II. Henry VI. note 05). If we take this 

<l<rivation of the word, it might mean *' banks covered 

*iUi reeds," or banks " in which holes of tubular shape 

^ been made;" either sense would agree with our ex- 

PUaaUon of the paasage.~F. A. x. 

190. Line 06: BROOM-groves. — ** Broom, in this place, 
*i|nifles the Spartium aeoparium, of which brooms are 
'nqnently made. Near Oamlingay in Cambridgeshire it 
Povs h^ enough to conceal the tallest cattle as they 
Pm throo^ it; and in places where it is cultivated, still 
^i|ber: a circumstance that had escaped my notice, till I 
*!• tfoid of it by Professor Martyn" (Steevens). Hanmer, 
^Unking that broom could not be spoken of as a grooe^ 
*oii}ectared **bnnm groves." 

19L Line 08: thy poU-dipt vinej/ard; i.e. vineyard in 
*liieh the poles are dipt, or embraced, by the vines. The 
*Md dip in Sbakespeare is in all but three instances used 
la the present sense, that of embrace. 



192. Line 78: taffron trtn^«.— Compare Virgil, .£neid, 
iv. 700: " Iris erocei» . . . pennia" which Phaer translates: 
Dame Rainbo v down therfore with taffrom wings of dropping shours. 
Whose face a thousand sundry hewes ^q^ainst the suone deuours. 
From heauen descending came. 

103. Line 85: to estate.— See note 18 to Midsununer 
Night's Dream. 

194. Line 89: The mieam that dusky Dl8 my datight^r 
^e.— Compare Winter's Tale, iv. 4. 110-118: 

O Proserpina, 
For the flowers now, that frighted thou lett'st fall 
From Dis's wagon i 

Compare Virgil, -fineid, vl. 127: ''atri . . . Difw." 

196. Line 90: her blind boy's SCANDAL'D eampany; i.e, 
disgracefuL Compare Julius C»sar, i. 2. 74-70: 

if you know 
That I do fawn on men. and hug them hard. 
And after scandai them. 

196. Line 90: bed-RiQHT.— So Ff.; most editors adopt 
the reading "bed-rite." The words are often confused: 
in line 17 riU is spelt right. But here, as the Clarendon 
Press ed. remarks, the reading of the Ff. is preferable. 
" A right may be paid, but a rite is performed." 

197. Line 102: Great Juno comes; I krunp her by her 
(;oi<.— Compare Virgil,.£neid,i. 40: "divum incedoreglna;" 
and see Pericles, v. 1. 112: " in pace another Juno." 

196. Line 110: Earth's increase, /oison plenty.— Most 
editors insert, with F. 2, and; but Earth's is probably meant 
to be pronounced as a dissyllable, as moones in Midsummer 
Night's Dream, iL 1. 7: 

Swifter than the moones sphere. 

The attribution of the second stanza of this song to Ceres 
was the conjecture of Theobald, who saw that each deity 
was to sing of her own offices. 

199. Lines 123, 124: 

So rare a wondefd father and a WISR 

Makes this place Paradise. 
Some copies of F. 1 read wise, some wife; the later Ff. all 
print wise. Most editors, following a conjecture of Bowe, 
made independently of the reading of the later Ff., read 
w\fe. The Cambridge edd. in the Cambridge and Olobe 
editions adopt this reading; Mr. Aldis Wright in the 
Clarendon Press ed. prefers wise. I give his note, which 
seems to me entirely judicious: " Both readings of course 
yield an excellent sense, but K must be admitted that the 
latter seems to bring Ferdinand from his rapture back to 
earth again. He is lost in wonder at Prosperous magic 
power. It may be objected that in this case Miranda is 
left out altogether^ but the use of the word 'father* 
shows that Ferdinand regarded her as one with himself." 

200. line 128: wakdkring frroo*«.— The Ff. have wind- 
ring, which seems to be a misprint for either wandering 
or winding. The former, which I have adopted, is the 
reading of Steevens; the latter is Bowe's. 

201. Line 130: Leave your crisp channels. — This no 
doubt refers, as Steevens points out, to " the little wave 
or curl (as it is commonly called) that the gentlest wind 
occasions on the surface of the water "—in other words, 
the curl of the ripple. Compare I. Henry IV. i. 8. 100, 
where Hotspur says the Severn " hid his crisp head In 

245 



ACT IV. Scene 1. 



NOTES TO THE TEMPEST. 



ACT IV. 8< 



the hollow bank." Compare Milton, Paradise Lost, iv. 
287: "the eri$ped brooks;" and Tennyson, Claribel, line 
19: " The babbling mnnel eriipeth." 

m. Lines 165, 166: 

And, like this intubttanticU pageant faded. 

Leave not a RAOK behind. 
It has always been a subject of marvel to me that it coold 
have ever entered the mind of any person to alter the 
word rack in this sublime passage: yet such sound Shake- 
spearian critics as Hanmer and Malone— the latter of 
whom Dyee, in some moment of temporary mental aberra- 
tion, follows— wilfully substituted track in the first case, 
and in the latter case un'eck. It is difflcult to say which is 
the worse suggestion of the two; perhaps tcreek, as it seems 
to introduce a more jarring element of shipwreck or other 
violent convulsion, which is entirely out of and remote 
from the beautiful picture that Shakespeare has here 
drawn. It will be noticed, by the careful reader or reciter, 
that it is the doudy or vapourish element which domi- 
nates the passage, and is empliasized by the word intub- 
ttaniial. Back is a word so commonly used in connection 
with clouds, even to the present day, that it will suffice 
to recall the beautiful passage in Antony and Cleopatra, 
which we must quote at length in order to show that 
Shakespeare undoubtedly uses rack in the sense demanded 
by the text : 

Ant. Sometime we see a cknid that's dragonish; 

A Tapour sometime like a bear or lion, 

A tower'd citadel, a pendent rock, 

A forked mountain, or blue promontory 

With trees upon 't, that nod unto the world. 

And mock our eyes with air : thou hast seen these signs ; 

They are black vesper's pageants. 
Eros. Ay, my lord. 

jint. That which is now a horse, even with a thought 

The rack dislimns, and makes it indistinct 

As water is In water. — iv. 14. 2-1 1. 

Compare ahw Hamlet, ii. 2. 606. 

For the benefit of those who believe in the eccentric 
myth that Bacon wrote Shakespeare's plays, we may add 
from the former the following passage: *' The winds in 
the upper regions which move the clouds above, (which 
we call the rack,) and are not perceived below, pass with- 
out noise" (Naturall Historic, 1 116).— F. A. x. 

208. Line 164: Come with a thought!— 1 thank thee, 
Ariel: come/— Theobald supposed that I thank thee was 
addressed to Ferdinand and Miranda, and altered thee to 
you, a change which Dyce strongly upholds (reading, how- 
ever, ye). But I do not see the slightest reason for the 
change; indeed, it seems to me a distinct change for the 
worse. Why should not Ariel be thanked for the enter- 
tainment he has provided? He deserves it far more than 
Ferdinand and Miranda for their polite good wishes. 

SOI Line 166: We mtut prepare to UKnwrm Caliban, 
—Meet vfith is used here in the sense of encounter. John- 
son compares Herbert's Country Parson, ch. x.: "He 
knows the temper and pulse of every person in the house, 
and accordingly either meete with their vices, or ad vanceth 
their virtues." 

206. Line 177 : AdvanCd their eyeZufs.— Compare i. 2. 408 : 
The fringed curtains of thine eye advance. 

And see note 88. 

246 



206. Line 182: eA«/ZtAy-XANTLED pool.— Compan 

iii. 4. 189: "drinks the green mantU of the standing 

Compare v. 1. 67 of the present play: 

the ignorant fumes that mamttt 
Their clearer reason. 

207. line 184: my 6trd.— Compare Hamlet^ L 6. ! 

HUlo, ho, ho, boy ! come, bird, come. 
See Beaumont and Fletcher, The Knight of the B 
Pestie, ii. UL, where the Citizen says to his wife, * 
a little, bird," a term of endearment which altonat 
mouse, duck, chicken, lamb, cony, honeysuckle, Ac 
pare Twelfth Night, note 49. 

208. line -187: ttale; i,e. a decoy. Compare Tu 
the Shrew, iiL 1. 90: 

To cast thy wandering eyes on every stale; 
and Ben Jonson, Catiline, iiL 10: 

Dull stupid Lentulus, 
My stale with whom I stalk. 

Cotgrave defines one of the meanings of Estalon: *' 
(as a Larke, &c.) wherewith Fowlers traine aiUii 
vnto their destruction." 

200. Lines 189, 190: 

on whom my pain*. 

Humanely taken, all are loet, quite loit. 

Ff. print all, all loet, which seems an obvious ml 
altered by Hanmer, on Malone's suggestion, to * 
loet. Sidney Walker's conjecture, all are loet, ■» 
me preferable, both as sounding better and as mon 
to have been misprinted. 

210. line 19S: hang THEM ON thie LINK.— Ft h 
them; the correction was made by Bowe. Line i 
here for " lime-tree " (see below, v. 1. 10: " the KiM-gi 
Coles, in his Latin Dictionary, has: "A line-tree, t 

211. lines 197, 198: play'd the Jack with ne; i 
Jack-o'-lantern, or ignia /atuvM, Compare Mod 
i. 1. 186, 186: " But speak you this with a sad brow 
you jAay the /touting Jack f"— where to " play the 
seems to be used in the sense of play the knaTe 
note 34 to that play. 

212. Line 221: O Kitig Stephana! Opeer!—Thm 
allusion here to the famous song of King Stephc 
stanzas of which are quoted in Othello, iL S. 92 
note 108 to that play.) The stanza alluded to in tl 
is thus printed in Percy's Reliques: 

King Stephen was a worthy peere. 
His breeches cost him but a crowne. 

He held them sixpence all too deere : 
Therefore he calld the uylor Lowne. 

21s. Line 225: a frippery; i.e. an old-clothei 
Boyer, in his French Dictionary, gives: ''Fripezy, 
(a street of brokers) Friperie ; " Coles renders " a Cri 
ojficina vettiarium trUarium, forum interpoUUo 
Compare Massinger, the City Madam, i. 1, whc 
Luke entering "with shoes, garters, fkns, and 
young Ooldwlre says: " He shows like a walking /r^ 

214. Lines 231, 232: 

Let's ALOKM, 

And do the murder first 
Theobald changed alone to along, and baa bee 



ACT IV. Scene 1. 



NOTES TO THE TEMPEST. 



ACT V. Soene 1. 



generally follovred. But it seems to me that by this 
change a point is lost Caliban turns to Stephano, and 
says: "Let you and me set off hy ourselvet, and leave 
Trinculo, if he will, with his ' luggage.'" This seems to 
me the sense of Let '» alone, which is of course equivalent 
to "Lefsgro alone." 

215. Line 249: And all be turn'd to BARNACLK8 or to 

ape$.—BamaeU$ is used here for the geese into which 

the shell-fish of that name were supposed to turn. Collins 

and Phillipps (yts. £d. xv. 155) quote passages from Qer- 

arde's Herbal: I give the longer quotation contained in 

the Clarendon Press oil.: "In Gerarde's Herbal (1597), 

p. 1391, is a chapter * Of the Go«)se tree, Bamakle tree, 

or the tree l>earing Geese,' in which it is said, ' There are 

foande in the north parts of Scotland, & the Ilands 

adiacent, called Orchades, certaine trees, whereon doe 

Sruwe certaine shell fishes, of a white colour tending to 

russet; wherein are conteined little lining creatures: 

which shels in time of maturitie doe open, and out of 

them grow thoae little lining things; which falling into 

the water, doe become foules, whom we call Bamakles, 

in the north of England Brant Geese, and in Lancashire 

tree Geese.' Gerarde then goes on to tell what he had 

himself seen in ' a small Ilaude in Lancashire called the 

Pile of Fouldres,' where branches of trees were cast ashore, 

* whereon is found a certaine spume or froth, that in time 

lireedeth vnto certaine shels, in shape like those of the 

muskle, but sharper pointed, and of a whitish colour.' 

Id process of time the thing contained in these shells 

'fslleth into the sea, where it gathereth feathers, and 

groweth to a foule, bigger then a Mallard, and lesser 

then a Goose ; hauing blacke legs and bill or beake, and 

feathers blacke and white, spotted in such maner as is 

our Magge-Pie, called in some places a Pie-Annet, which 

the people of Lancashire call by no otlier name then a 

tree Goose ; which place aforesaide, and all those parts 

sdioining, do so much abound therewith, that one of the 

best is bought for three pence: for the truth heerof, if 

any doubt, may it please them to repaire vnto me, and I 

ihall satisfle them by the testimonie of good witnesses.'" 

S16u Line 262: eat<i' -mountain. — Compare Merry Wives, 
iL 2. 27: "your eat-a-vMuntain looks." Boyer gives: 
"Cat-a-Mountain, (a Mongrel Sort of wild Cat) Chat- 
pard" The Clarendon Press ed. quotes Topsell, History 
(ff Four-footed Beasts: " The greatest therefore they call 
Panthers, as Belluuensis writeth. The second they call 
Pardals. and the third, least of all, they call Leopards, 
which for the same cause in England is called a Cat of 
the Mountain " (p. US). 

til. Line 264: LIB at my mercy all miw enemiet.—Vt. 
have Lies, which is perhape what Shakespeare wrote. 
Bolfe mentions that Lies is found plural in Shakespeare 
at least five times, in three of which the rhyme forbids 
any change. 

ACT V. Scene 1. 

218. Line 10: In the Lilix-aROVS ufhieh weathf.r-pends 
your cell.— On line-grove (i.e. lime-grove) see note 210. 
WetUker-/endi=pTotiOcU from the weather. Boyer (Fr. 
Diet.) has "To Fend off, Verb Act. (to keep off) Parer, 
detoumer; " and Colet (Lat Diet) has "To Fend, d^endo, 



protelo." The Clarendon Press ed. quotes Beaumont and 
Fletcher, The Humorous Lieutenant, v. 4: 

And such a coil there is, 
Huch/enJinj^ and such proving. 

" Fending and proving," however, was a familiar phrase, 
a sort of idiom. Boyer gives: " Don 't stand fending and 
proving, {or justifying yourself) Xe raisonnez pa* tant, 
ne/aites pat tant le raiaonneur." 

219. Line 16: Hie tears run down his heard.— T. 1 has 
runs. 

220. Lines 23, 24: 

that relish all as sharply 

Passion as they. 
This is the punctuation of F. 3 and F. 4; F. 1 and F. 2 in- 
sert a comma after sharply, in which caae passion would 
be a verb. The reading of F. 3 seems to give the better 
sense. 

221. Lines 33-50.— Shakespeare's indebtedness to Ovid, 
Met vii. 197-219, in this speech, was first pointed out by 
Warburton. I give the passage from Golding's transla- 
tion, which Shakespeare had evidently read: 

Ye Ayres and Windes : ye Elues of Hilles, of Brookes, of Woods alone. 
Of standing; Lakes, and of the Night approche ye euerychone. 
Through helpe of whom (the crooked bankes much wondrin^ at the 

thing) 
I haue compelled streames to rim cleane backward to their tpring. 
By charmes I make the calme seas rough, Sc make the rough seas 

playne. 
And couer all the Skie with clouds and chase them thence againe. 
By charmes I raise and lay the windes, and burst the Vipers iaw. 
And from the bowels of the earth both stones and trees do draw. 
Whole woods and I-'orrests I rcinooue : I make the Mountaines shake. 
And eucn the earth it selfe to grone and fearefuUy to quake. 
I call vp dead men fruni their graues and thee, O lightsome Moone 
I darken oft, through beaten brasse abate thy perill soone. 
Our Sorcerie diounes the Morning faire, and darkes the Sun at Noone. 
The flaming breath of fierie Bulles ye quenched for my sake 
And caused their vnwieldy neckes the bended yoke to take. 
Among the earth-bred brothers you a mortall warre did set 
And brought asleepe the Dragon fell whose eyes were neuer shet. 

222. Line 37: green-sour ringlets.— This alludes to the 
fairy-circles in the grass, once thought to be the scenes 
of elfin revels, caused really by a fungous growth. Rolfe 
quotes Dr. Grey (Notes on Shakespeare), who says that 
they " are higher, sowrer, and of a deeper green than the 
grass which grows round them." Compare, for allusions 
to the superstition, Merry Wives, v. 5. 60, 70: 

And nightly, meadow-fairies, look you sing. 
Like to the Garter's compass, in a ring. 

223. Line 30: mushrooms.— ¥. 1, F. 2 have Mushrumps, 
the old spelling of the word. 

224. Line 43: the AZUR'D oati/f.— S. Walker conjectured 
azure, but such participles used for adjectives are com- 
mon in Shakespeare. See the long list in Abbott's Shake- 
spearian Grammar, { 294. 

225. Lines 59, 60: 

thy brains, 

Nmo useless, BOIL'D within thy skull ! 
Ft. have boile ; the correction was made by Pope. Compare 
Winter's Tale, iiL 3. 64, 65: " Would any but these hoiUd 
brains of nineteen and two-and -twenty hunt this wea- 
ther? ' and Midsummer Night's Dream, v. 1. 4: 

Lovers and madmen have such s«tthtM£ trams. 

247 



ACT V. Scene 1. 



NOTES TO THE TEMPEST. 



ACT V. Scene 1. 



226. Line 62 : Holy Goruolo.— Collier's MS. Corrector 
changes Holy to Noble, obsenring that Oonxalo was " in 
no respect holy," But, as Staunton observes, "the word 
' holy,' in Shakespeare's Ume, b^des its ordinary meaning 
of godUy, «anetified, and the like, signified also pure, jutt, 
righUous, <&c." Compare Winter's Tale. v. 1. 170, 171: 

You have a kaiy father, 
A gleeful gentleman ; 

and Coriolanus, iiL 3. 111-113: 

I do love 

My country's good with a respect more tender. 

More hfify, and profound, than mine own life. 

227. Line 64: FALL FELLOWLY drop§; i.e, let fall com- 
panionable drops. For /all used actively compare ii. 1. 
296: " To fall it on Gonzalo." On fellmoly see Abbott's 
Shakespearian Grammar, { 447, and compare " traitorly " 
in Winter's Tale, iv. 4. 822. Johnson, in his Dictionary, 
quotes from Tusser: 

One seed for another, to make an exchange, 
WithySr//tfw/y neighbourhood, seemeth not strange. 

— Ed. Mavor, p. i8a. 

Coles (Latin DicUonary) has " FeUow like, toeialiter." 

228. Lines 74-76: 

Thou art pinch' d for 't now, Sebcutian, fleah and blood. 
Yoii, brother mine, that SNTKRTAIN'd ambition, 
Sxpell'd remorae and nature; who, with Sebastian, &c. 
Ff. have: 

Thou art pinch'd for 't now Sebastian. Flesh, and bloud 
You. brother mine, that entertaine ambition, 
Expell'd remorse, and nature, whom, with Sebastian. 

The text I have adopted is that of Dyce, who in the first 
line follows Theobald, in the second the reading of F. 2, 
in the third the emendation of Rowe. 

229. Line 85: / will disease me; i.e. undress myself. 
The word is used again in Winter's Tale, iv. 4. 647-649: 
"therefore disease thee instantly, — thou must think 
there 's a necessity in 't, — and change garments with this 
gentleman " "Uncase" is used in the same sense in 
Love's Labour's Lost, v. 2. 707, 708: "Do you not see 
Pompey is uncasing for the combat?" and Taming of the 
Shrew, I. 1. 212: 

Uncase thee ; take my colour'd hat and cloak. 

230. Lines 91, 92: 

On the bat's back 1 do fly 
After SUMMER merrily. 

Theobald altered awmmier to sunset, very unnecessarily, 
as Shakespeare doubtless meant to say that Ariel flies 
after (i.e. pursues) summier on the bird of simimer even- 
ings, the bat. 

231. Line 111: Whethbr thou be' si he or no.—Vf. have 
Where, as the word is no doubt meant to be pronounced. 
Compare Comedy of Errors, iv. 1. 60: 

Good sir. say tti/u'r you 11 answer me or no. 

232. Lines 123, 124: 

You do yet taste 

Sotne subtilties o' the isle. 

Steevens oliserves: "This is a phrase adopted from ancient 
cookery and confectionary. When a dish was so contrived 
as to appear unlike what it really was, they called it a 
subtUty. Dragons, castles, trees, &c., made out of sugar, 
had the like denomination." The Clarendon Press ed. 

248 



quotes Fabyan's Chronicle, ed. 1542, iL 366, where tlie 
author, describing the feast at the coronation of Katharine, 
queen of Henry V., speaks of " a sotyUye called a Pelly- 
cane sjrttyng on his nest with the byrdes, and an ymage oi 
sajmte Katheiyne holdyng a boke and disputgmg with the 
doctoures." 

233. Line 128: And JUSnrY you traitors.-— Justify ^ here 
used in the sense of prove, as in All 's Well, iv. 8. 64-68: 

S*e. Lcrd. How is ^biijusti/ledf 

First Lord, The stroller part of it by hex own letters. 

234. Line 136: who.—W. 1 has wham; the correction is 
made in F. 2. 

236. Line 139: / am MfOE for 't, nr.— Compare Antony and 
Cleopatra, iv. 14. 133: " Woe, tooe are we;" Cymbellne, v. 
5. 297 (F. 1): " I am sorrow for thee." 

236. Line 171: Stage-direction.— Bolfe quotes from Pro- 
fessor Allen, who points out that Shakespeare may have 
introduced chess here because he knew " that there was s 
special appropriateness in representing a prince of Naples 
as a chess-player, since Naples, in the poet's day, was the 
centre of chess-playing, and probably famed as such 
throughout Europe." 

237. Line 199: Let us not burden our RnoEMBRARCB 
with. — Ff. have remembrances, which Pope corrected. 

238. Line 226: My TRICKSY spirit!— The word tricksy 

occurs only here and in the Merchant of Venice, iii. b. 

74. 75: 

that for a tricksy word 

Defy the matter. 
Compare the verb "trick" in Henry V. iii. 6, 7»-81: "and 
this they con perfectly in the phrase of war. which they 
trick up with new- tuned oaths." Nares quotes the anony- 
mous play of Orim the Collier : 

Marry indeed, there is a tricksey girL 

239. Line 230: We were dead cf sleep; i.e. "on sleep." 
or "asleep." Dyce quotes, as an instance of the very 
conmion confusion between of and on. The Warres of 
Cyrus King of Persia, 1594, sig. A 4: 

This stout Assyrian hath a liberall looke. 
And, e/'niy soule. is forre from trecherie. 

Compare, too, Harlow, Jew of Malta, iv. 4: "Upon mine 
own freehold, within forty feet of the gallows, conning 
his neck-verse, I take it, looking qf a friar's execution." 

240. Line 234: more.— Ff. have mo and moe. 

241. Line 236: Aer.— So Theobald, on the conjecture of 
Thirlby; Ff. print otf r. 

242. Lines 243, 244: 

mors (/ban nature 

Was ever conduct qf. 
Compare Bomeo and Juliet, v. 3. 116: 

Come, bitter conduct, come, unsavoory gxiide ! 

and Richard III. i. 1. 43-45: 

His matesty. 

Tendering my person's safety, hath appointed 

This cottdnct to convey roe to the Tower. 

243. Line 258: CORAOIO, butty-monater, eoragioISbakit' 
speare uses Coragio again in All 's Well, il. 6. 97: " Brave- 
ly, coragio!" Steevens quotes the wtml from Florio's 
Montaigne: "You often cried Coragio." On buUy, aa a 



ACT V. 8oeii« 1. 



NOTES TO THE TEMPEST. 



ACT V. Scene 1. 



HuDllimr tenn, meaning *'good fellow"— the only use of 
the word in Shakespeare— eee note 144 to BOdsummer 
Night's Dream. In Coles' Latin Dictionary the only mean- 
ing giyen to the word is "pir/or(i» <i- animoius." 

Ml Line 271: And deal in her eominandt Ufithout her 
power.— It is rather difficult to see which of two or three 
eontradictory meanings should be assigned to this line. 
Steevens understands it as meaning " that Sycorax, with 
le» general power than the moon, could produce the 
same effects on the sea." Malone supposes that Prospero 
meant to say " that Sycorax could control the moon, and 
set as her Vict^rent, without being commissioned, 
aothorixed, or empowered by her to do so." Staunton— 
with more reason— interprets wiUunU her power as "be- 
yond her power," and compares Midsummer Night's 
Dream, iv. 1. 156-158: 

our Intent 
Was to be gone from Athens where we might. 
Be •witkoMt peril of the Athenian Uw. 

MS. Line 279: reding nfM.— This is best interpretated 
bgr 8chmidt> who explains it in his Lexicon as " in a state 
of intoxication sufficiently adyanced for reeling. " Com- 
pare Love's Labour's Lost, v. 2. 274: 

The King was TBetping-rtpt for a good word; 

sod Beaumont and Fletcher, Woman's Prixe, ii. 1: 

My son Petruchio, he 's like little children 
That lose their baubles, crying^pe. 

M& Une 280: this grand liqttorthat hath qildxd 'em. 
—OUded was a slang term for " made drunlc." The term 



arose from certain jolces comparing sack: with the Aurum 
potabile^ or grand elixir, of the alchemists. Compare 
Antony and Cleopatra, L 5. 86, 87: 

that great medicine hath 
With his tiMuAgMed thee— 

where the reference is solely to the elixir. For gilded in 

the sense of drunk, compare Beaumont and Fletcher's 

Chances, iv. 3: 

DuAe. Is she not drunk too? 

jC«m. a httle giU^ 0'er, tir. 

The expression is one of the many polite ways of convey- 
ing a well-understood fact which abound in every lan> 
guage. Compare the Cape Dutch euphemism, "to be 
nice," and, nearer home, the singularly merciful and grace- 
ful French idiom, "6tre dans les vignes du Seigneur"- a 
delightful phrase which somehow has never become natu- 
ralized among us, favoured as we are with labourers in 
that vineyard. 

247. Line 289: Thie it a strange thing us e'er 1 look'd 
on.— Capell, improving the metre, but not rectifying the 
grammar so much as he thought, read: 

This is as strange a thing as e'er I look'd on. 
As for the metre, the lines preceding conform to no regu- 
lar rhythm, and the present one need be supposed no 
more r^;ular than they. So far as grammar is concerned, 
the first CM was sometimes omitted in Elizabethan English. 
See Abbott's Grammar, f 276, and compare L Henry IV. 

ia 2. 167-169: 

A mighty and a fearful head they are, 

jfs ever offer'd foul play in a state. 



WORDS OCCURRING ONLY IN THE TEMPEST. 

XOTB.— The addition of sub., adj., verb, adv. in brackets immediately after a word indicates that the word ia 
used as a substantive, adjective, verb, or adverb only in the passage or passages cited. 

The compound words marlced with an asterisk (*) are printed as two separate words in F. 1. 



Act 8c. Line 

iUtemioos . . . iv. 1 53 

Acquisition.... iv. 1 13 

Afore (adv. X... iL 2 78 

AlHcan ii. 1 125 

^A-ground .... i. 1 4 

•Ahold. 1. 1 52 

Aoglei i. 2 223 

Aspersion iv. 1 18 

Bsckward (sub.) i. 2 50 

Bariey iv. 1 61 

Bamaclea iv. 1 249 

Baseless iv. 1 151 

Bass (verb) ... . iii. 8 99 

Bat-fowling.... iL 1 185 

Bedimmed .... v. 1 41 

Bed-right iv. 1 96 

BeU« V. 1 89 

■Betrims iv. 1 65 

Blasphemous.. i. 1 44 



1 ^aootnar. 
i«>eapof aflowcr. 



Act 8c. Line 
'filueeyed . . . . L 2 269 

Bow» iv. 1 80,86 

Bow, wow L 2 882,383 

Bowsprit L 2 200 

Brained (adj.X. iii. 2 7 
Broom-groves., iv. 1 66 
Bully-monster v. 1 258 

Calf-like iv. 1 179 

Cellar it 2 136 

Charmingly.... iv. 1 119 

Chick. V. 1 816 

Chirurgeonly .. iL 1 140 

Closeness L 2 90 

Cloud-capped., iv. 1 152 

Cock-a-diddle-dow4 L 2 386 

Compensation., iv. 1 2 

Confederates (vb.)L 2 111 

Convulsions.... iv. 1 260 

Coral* (sub.).. L 2 397 

s — rainlww. 

« coekadUIle-dtnK in F. 1. 

A Hon. cxxz. 2. 



Act 8c Line 

Corollary iv. 1 57 

Correspondent i. 2 297 

Courses* L 1 53 

Cradled. L 2 464 

Cubit U. 1 2.*i7 

DamsT iL 2 184 

Dear-beloved., v. 1 309 

Demi-puppets., v. 1 36 

Deservedly.... L 2 961 

Diversity v. 1 234 

•Dove-drawn .. iv. 1 94 

Dowle iU. 3 65 

Down* iv. 1 81 

Drowsiness iL 1 199 

Earthed iL 1 234 

Entertainer... iL 1 17 

Ever-angry.... L 2 289 



• -aaiU. 

7 For confloins water. 
B — a inct of naked hilly land; 
Veniu and Adonis, 677. 

249 



Act Be. Lino 

Ever-harmless iv. 1 129 

Expeditious.... v. 1 815 

Extirpate L 2 125 

Eye* iL 1 66 

Fellowly v. 1 64 

FilberU iL 2 176 

l<'iring(iiub.)... iL 2 185 

Fish-like iL 2 27 

Flat-long IL 1 181 

Flesh-fly iii. 1 68 

Flote L 2 234 

Fly-blowing.... v. 1 284 

Footfall U. 2 12 

Footing 10 iv. 1 138 

Foot-licker.... iv. 1 218 

Fresh-brook... L 2 463 

Freshes. ia 2 76 

Fringed L 2 408 



* — a tinge or shade, 
lo.danoe; used frsqiMDtlj 
elsrwhcvi in oiber swuea 



Furrow 1 (nib.), h 

dirtherer i 

^™- Il, 

Oatheri i 

*a«Dtle-klnd.. U 

OlDt 

OOH h 

Orw-plut Ii 

Hftg-bom...... 

Hig-HMl 

HMTt'i-iatrow U 

He»UH 

H»/-dwl I 

HoDBJICODlb.... 

'HoDtiMlropi.. Ii 

BorM-plu i< 

iDchultible .. 

luch-mul 1 

InlMt ' 

iDHlbltullBl.. I' 

Irrepanble < 

Jingling ^ 

LiM-lorn I' 

Lecsed 1 

LarsI' It. 

Llns'gTOTt I 

Log-mu U 

LotdwL 

Imh i 

Umln.4uuna... 

Ifallowi I 

Uu-manBtcr.. 11 

MumoKt 1 

Hewidcn. 



I. 



WORDS PECULIAR TO THE TEMPEST. 



{U. £ tlD, 
iie.is8 
111. !M.M 

MopOub.).... Iy. 1 47 

UounUlaeen* Hi. S U 

MuddeU ""■ ' ^"^ 

Muiclu' I. ! MS 

JIuihrcKinia. ... v. I si 

MiWtawr'(«ib)IU. 1 U 

\aij^l It. 1 1!8 

Ndltle-Ked. . . . It ] IM 

■Nfw-dyed.... 11. 1 M 

■Xew-foimeil.. I. 2 8S 

Mnnr* 111. 1 It 

NaiH-malier. . . L 1 47 

Ouvd (vsrb). . . 11. 1 lis 

O'srprlieil L I W 

Ucnlunk It. 1 1S4 

Open-sye<l U. 1 SOI 

Filllala II. 1 ii 

Paunch (t«rb).. Ul. ! 9S 

Peg(rerl.) t. S *» 

Plf-nnU. IL 1 17S 

Pinch-ipatt«d.. It. 1 Ml 

Honed. Ir. l M 

PUnMtlon.... IL 1 M 

PoitMiiipt iv. 1 as 

Ptwmion 1. 1 101 

Prfcked" Iv. l 17B 

PtlnU«M T. 1 M 

Fuppjr-headed. IL 2 IM 

■Putter4nt. ... 111. S 48 

Kuarable a 1 t£0 

R«l»ue (Mb ).. T. I 11 

•U*d laa Umti In Vjal*- 




TITUS ANDEONICUS. 



INTRODUCTION AND NOTES BY 
A. WILSON VERITY. 



•sons to Titus Androuicus. 



DRAMATIS PERSONS 

Saturninus, sou to the late Emperor of Rome, and afterwards 

declared Emperor. 
Bassianus, brother to Satuminus ; in love with Lavinia. 
Titus Andronicus, a noble Roman, general against the Goths. 
Marcus Andronicus, tribune of the people, and brother to Titus. 
Lucius, ' 

QUINTUS, 

Martius, 

MUTIUS, , 

Youxo Lucius, a boy, son to Lucius. 
PuBLius, son to Marcus the tribune. 

SKMPRONIUSa 

Caius, [' kinsmen to Titus. 

Valentine, J 

^MiLius, a noble Roman. 

Alarbus, 

Demetrius, sons to Tamora. 

Chiron, 

Aaron, a Moor, beloved by Tamora. 

A Captain, Tribune, Messenger, and Clown. 

Romans and Goths. 

Tamora, Queen of the Goths. 
Lavinia, daughter to Titus Andronicus. 
A Nurse, and a black Child. 

Senators, Tribunes, OflBcers, Soldiers, and Attendants. 



Scene — Rome, and the country near it. 



Historic Period : Some time during the Empire; but when, we have no means of sa}inj 



TIME OF ACTION. 

According to Daniel, the time analysis is as follows: four days, with, possibly, t 
intervals : — 



Day 1: Act I. and Act II. Scene 1. 
Day 2: Act II. Scones 2, 3, and 4 ; Act III. Scene 1. 
— Interval. 

252 



Day 3: Act III. Scene 2. — Interval. 
Day 4 : Acts IV. and V. 



TITUS ANDEONICUS. 



INTRODUCTION. 



LITERARY HISTORY. 

The earliest extant^ edition of Titus An- 
dronicus was published in 1600. Tliis edi- 
tion, a Quarto, appeared with the following 
cumbrous title-page: "The most lamenta | ble 
Romaine Tragedie of Tittu | Andronicus, \ 
As it hath sundry times beene playde by the 
I Right Honourable the Earle of Pembrooke, 
the I Earle of Darbie, the Earle of Sussex, 
and the | Lorde Chamberlaine theyr | Ser- 
uants. I AT LONDON. | Printed by'l. R for 
Edwaixi White | and are to bee solde at his 
ahoppe, at the little North doore of Paules, at 
the sigue of | the Gun. 1600 | . 

Of this edition only two copies are known 
to exist. A second Quarto, printed from 
the first, but introducing a few conjectural 
changes, dates from 1611. Titus Andronicus 
was included in the First Folio, and of the 
play as it there stands the Cambridge editors re- 
mark: "The First Folio text was printed from 
a copy of the Second Quarto which, perhaps, 
was in the library of the theatre, and had 
aorne MS. alterations and additions made to 
the stage-directions. Here, as elsewhere, the 
printer of the Folio has been very careless as 
to metre. It is remarkable that the Folio con- 
tains a whole scene, act iiL sc 2, not found 
in the Quartos, but agreeing too closely in 
style with the main portion of the play to 
allow of the supposition that it is due to a 
different author. The scene may have been 
supplied to the players' copy of Q. 2 from a 
manuscript in their possession" (Cambridge 
Shakespeare, vol. vi. p. xii). 

The date of Titus Andronicus we cannot 
determine. Several references, which look as 

1 We My " eztant," becauM Langbaine In his EngUih 
Draniatick Poeta, p. 464 (ed. 1691). tell« as that Tittu An- 
ditmicaa waa "tint printed 4*. Lond. 1504;" of which 
•ditlon, if it arer aziatad, no copy has sQirived. 



though they might lend us some assistancey 
are conflicting and confusing. Ben Jonson in 
the Induction to Bartholomew Fair, produced 
in 1614, says: ^^ He that will swear, Jeronimo 
or Andronicus, are the best plays yet, shaU 
pass unexcepted at here, as a man whose judg- 
ment shows it is constant, and hath stood 
still these five-and-twenty or thirty years." 
Now this would take us back to 1584 or 1589. 
The Titus Andronicus mentioned can scarcely 
be that before us. In 1594 Henslowe notes 
in his delightful diary — delightful in its old- 
world freaks of orthography — that he gained 
£Sy Ss, on January 22nd by a new piece which 
he is pleased to call Titus and ondronicus; and 
in the same year, on February 6th, the Sta- 
tioners' Register jdelds the following entry; 
" John Danter. Entered for his copye under 
handes of bothe the wardens a booke 
intituled, A Noble Boman- History e of 
IS'tus Andronicus. vj*." 
These three allusions cannot be concerned 
with the same work, and possibly not one of 
them really refers to the play printed in 1600, 
and subsequently assigned to Shakespeare. 
No, we must give up the date of Titus An- 
dronicus as irrecoverable. Further, we need 
not try to discover whence came the grisly 
conte. Nothing can be added to Theobald's 
remarks: " The story we are to suppose merely 
fictitious. Andronicus is a surname of pure 
Greek origin. Tamora is neither mentioned 
by Ammianus Marcellintis, nor anybody else 
that I can And. Nor had Bome, in the time 
of her emperors, any war with the Groths that 
I know of: not till after the translation of the 
empire, I mean to Byzantium. And yet the 
scene of the play is laid at Bome, and Satur- 
ninus is elected to the empire at the Capitol " 
(Yar. Ed. vol. xxi. p. 379). There is a balhid 
ou the events dealt with in the play; but, un- 
fortunately, it cannot be dated earlier than 

253 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



the reign of James I. In fact, the ballad was 
probably based on the drama. My own con- 
clusion is this, that there were several works, 
^*bookes," plays,^ ballads, and what not, telling 
the story of the mythical Titus Andronicus, 
these works being drawn from some original 
now lost or miknown; and this original may 
have been an Italian or Spanish collection of 
tales. The connection of Spanish with Eng- 
lish Elizabethan literature is a field which, 
little worked hitherto, might yield very fruitful 
and valuable results. Not till a few years ago 
(1883) did we know that Marlowe was indebted 
to a Spanish original for much of his Tam- 
burlaine. Perhaps in the courses of the re- 
volving years the inevitable Grerman will un- 
earth a Spanish forerunner of Shakespeare's 
work. 

I say "Shakespeare's work;" but in reality 
there can be little doubt that Titus An- 
dronicus is no genuine, authentic play. Critics 
the most orthodox and rigidly conservative 
allow that only a small part of the drama 
which has come down to us under Shake- 
speare's name was written by him. The evi- 
dence is as follows. To take first the side of 
those who assert that the work should be un- 
conditionally accepted. They have two facts 
— weighty facts it must be admitted, on which 
to rely; firstly, the inclusion of Titus An- 
dronicus in the First Folio; secondly, the 
mention of it by Meres in Palladis Tamia. 
This is no slight testimony. Against it may 
be set the style of the piece, the description 
given on the title-page, and a stage tradition 
recorded by Ravenscroft In 1687 Ravens- 
croft published an adaptation of Titus An- 
dronicus, and in the preface he has some 
remarks which seem worth reproducing. Ad- 
dressing the reader he says: "TIs necessary I 
should acquaint you, that there is a Play in 

1 There was, for instance, a German Lamentable Tragedy 
of Titus Andronicus, acted by the English players in 
Germany early in the seventeenth century, and pub- 
lished in 1620. Among the characters is one named 
Vespasian, from which perhaps we may conclude that the 
play was a rough version of the English "tlttus and 
vespacia" mentioned by Henslowe, April 11th, 1591 ; and 
Herr Cohn thinlcs that this Titus and Vespasian was the 
original of both the German Lamentable Tragedy and of 
Shakespeare's Titus Andronicus. See Shakespeare in 
Germany, pp. cxii, cxiii. 

254 



Mr. Shakespears Volume under the name of 
Titus Andronicus, from whence I drew part 
of this. I have been told by some anciently 
conversant with the Stage, that it was not 
Originally his, but brought by a private 
Author to be Acted, and he only gave some 
Master-touches to one or two of the Principal 
Parts or Characters; this I am apt to believe, 
because 'tis the most incorrect and indigested 
piece in all his Works." 

To my mind very considerable stress should 
be laid on this. The tradition is not likely 
to have arisen unless there was some basis 
for it. From 1616 to 1687 is not such a 
very long period, and actors of all people 
are tenacious of the ana of their profession. 
Again, the title-page is suggestive. Six plays 
appeared in Quarto form in 1600. Of some 
more than one Quarto was printed; e.ff. of 
Midsummer Night's Dream and The Merchant 
of Venice. All these, Titus Andronicus ex- 
cepted, bore Shakespeare's name on the title- 
page. Further, this play was not published 
at all during the poet's life with his name as 
author. We should note, too, w^ith Mr. Fleay, 
the significant fact that Titus Andi-onicus was 
acted by the companies of Sussex, Pembroke, 
and Derby apparently before it came into the 
hands of the Chamberlain's company to which 
Sliakespeare belonged; certainly so, if the re- 
ference in Henslowe quoted above alludes to 
the present play. 

We come to the question of style — to the 
prevailing tone of the play, and the verse in 
which it is written. The blank verse is not 
the metre associated with any period of Shake- 
speare's work. 

He doth me wrong to feed me with delays. 
I '11 dive into the burning lake below, 
And pull her out of Acheron by th* heels. 

— iv. 3. 42-44. 

This is simply the "Ercles Vein," which 
Shakespeare himself ridicules in the mouth ai 
Pistol. It is in the "high, heroic fustian" 
style, which Greene sneered at and afterwards 
adopted. It is *Hhe swelling bombast of a 
bragging blank verse," such as Marlowe sank 
to when he filled the stage with *' pampered 
jades of Asia" and other eccentricities. 

Titus Andronicus has scene after scene of 



INTRODUCTION. 



this swelling rhetoric, "full of sound and 
fury," for which the author of Tamburlaine 
was partly responsible, and of which Peele's 
Battle of Alcazar affords a typical example. 
As Mr. Fleay says, the play is " built on the 
Marlowe blank-verse system," and if the ex- 
travagance of the style is a strong argument 
against the Shakespearian authorship of the 
piece, an even stronger argument the same 
way is the remarkably small proportion that 
the rhymed portions bear to the unrhymed. 
Titus Andronicus contains 2525 lines. Of 
these 43 are prose, 144 rhyme, and 2338 blank 
verse (Fleay). The figures speak for them- 
selves. Even those who champion the genuine- 
ness of Titus Andronicus allow that it must 
have come very early in the list of Shake- 
speare's works: in what other early play of 
indisputable authenticity shall we find such a 
signal victory of the blank-verse system over 
its old rival, the rhymed couplet? 

And then the play itself — the general 
esthetic quality. Is there a single complete 
scene with the true Shakespearian ring? I 
confess I could not point to one. Me jvdice 
the drama is a mere maze of bloodthirsty 
melodrama, pervaded by a fine full-flavoured 
charnel-house atmosphere. The author dab- 
bles in blood : it is blood, blood everywhere ; 
and we are spared nothing that can revolt 
and disgust. Eeally if we are to assign Titus 
Andronicus to Shakespeare, we had better 
assume at once that the play was a direct at- 
tempt to reproduce and revive the sensational 
horrors of the Jeronimo type of play-writing. 
Saving this, most people will be content to 
believe that Titus Andronicus was written 
by some inferior dramatist, was just touched 
by Shakespeare, and then passed off by the 
theatrical manager, for obvious reasons, as a 
genuine work of the great poet. This would 
partially explain the reference to the play by 
Meres, and its inclusion in the First Folio; 
while the omission of Shakespeare's name 
from the title-page of the two Quartos leads 
U8 to infer that he did not regard the work 
as his own. It may be asked where especially 
in the play we should look for these additions 
and corrections that Shakespeare is s\ipi>o8ed 
to have made. The following passages have 



been pointed out as suggestive of Shakespeare's 
touch: i. 1. 9; i 1. 70-76; L 1. 117-119; 
i. 1. 140, 141 ; ii. 1. 82, 83; ii. 2. 1-6; ii. 3. 
10-15; iii. 1. 82-86; iii. 1. 91-97; iv. 4. 81-86; 
V. 2. 21-27; v. 3. 160-168. In these places 
some critics see — atU vidisse putant — the hand 
of the great dramatist, partly because of ver- 
bal coincidences with lines in the genuine 
plays, partly because of what we must vaguely 
call the Shakespearian style of the verse. 
But we have no scrap of definite, tangible 
evidence upon which to go; it is all a matter 
of the purest conjecture, and no agreement 
among critics is to be looked for. 

Assuming, then, that the play is not Shake- 
speare's, except so far as some possible emen- 
dation and retouching of the work of another 
man is concerned, we have still to face the 
inquiry. Who was this "inferior dramatist?" 
Marlowe, say some critics. But I think not; 
for one main reason : Titus Andronicus does 
not contain a single example of that rapturous 
rhetoric which won for the poet Ben Jonson's 
immortal praise. In each of Marlowe's au- 
thentic dramas there is some one passage — 
such as the great lines in Tamburlaine on 
"beauty's worthiness" — that proclaims its 
authorship trumpet- tongued. Even a mangled 
and maimed fragment like the Massacre at 
Paris has the speech of Guise in the second 
scene : we may look in vain for a similar pas- 
sage in Titus Andronicus. The play is not so 
much like Marlowe's own style, as the style 
of Marlowe's imitators; and among these imi- 
tators I should be inclined to pick out George 
Peele. Direct proofs, of course, in favour of 
this theory there are none — though a curious 
coincidence is pointed out in the note on act 
ii scene 1. 5-7 ; but Titus Andronicus, it 
seems to us, is precisely the type of work that 
Peele might have written. Peele was, in 
certain ways, a very charming writer. We 
owe to him some pretty lyrics; there is 
much mellifluous verse — too mellifluous verse, 
Charles Lamb thought — in David and Beth- 
sabe; and The Arraignment of Paris claims 
praise as a beautiful specimen of the court- 
play, lialf masque and half pastoraL But 
two at any rate of his dramas are full of 
dreadful rubbish: Edward I. is coarse and 

255 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



offensive, just as Titus Andronicus is coarse 
ami offensive; and the Battle of Alcazar rings 
from the first page to the last with the 
"hectoring rant" — to borrow Mr. Saintsbury's 
phrase — with which we are satiated in Titus 
Andronicus. In the face, then, of what Peele 
achieved in Edward I. and the Battle of 
Alcazar, is it unjust to his name to think that 
he may have been responsible for the muti- 
lated Lavinia and the crazed Titus and the 
incidental murders and horrors that mark the 
progress of the piece before us? Perhaps the 
suggestion is worth a thought. 

STAGE HISTORY. 

From the 27th December, 1593, to the 6th 
of the following February the Rose Theatre 
was held by the Earl of Sussex's men. By 
them Titus Andronicus was acted as a new 
play on 23rd January, 1694. The company 
consisted, according to Laiigbaine (Account 
of the English Dramatick Poets, p. 464), of 
"the Earls of Derby, Pembroke, and Essex, 
their servants." For Essex must be read 
Sussex. On the 6th Feb. 1594, the play was 
acted for the third time, and on the same day 
it was entered on the Stationers' Register for 
John Danter. It sprang into inmiediate popu- 
larity, the horrors with which it is now re- 
proached having little to shock audiences that 
had been fed on the strong meat of Eliza- 
bethan tragedy; and it seems shortly after 
its appearance to have been played by differ- 
ent companies. With the statement of these 
facts the student has to be satisfied. The cast 
of the play is not known, and no incident 
connected with the representation is pre- 
served. From those days to the present the 
original play has not been seen upon the Eng- 
lish stage. For this fact it is not easy to ac- 
count. Suspicion as to whether Shakespeare 
is responsible for the drama was, it is known, 
aroused from an early date. Into the ques- 
tion of authorship there is no call here to 
enter. Opinions vary, and will continue so to 
do. For the exclusion of Titus Andronicus 
from all subsequent revivals of Shakespeare, 
dubiety as to authority is not more respon- 
sible than the repulsive nature of much of 

256 



the action. In place of Shakespeare, then, or 
the author of Titus Andronicus, a mutilation 
of Ravenscrof t alone has held, since the recom- 
mencement of histrionic entertainments with 
the Restoration, a bnef nominal possession of 
the stage. Titus Andronicus, or the Rape of 
Lavinia, altered from Shakespeare by Edward 
Ravenscrof t, was printed in 4to, 1687, and 
was acted at the Theatre Royal, subsequently 
Drury Lane, near the close of 1678. It has 
had the fortune, rare among alterations of 
Shakespeare, to win the commendation of 
critics such as Steevens and Grenest, and has 
received at the hands of Langbaine notice 
longer than that parsimonious and hide-bound 
chronicler of things theatrical is accustomed 
to offer. The praise is, however, undeserved 
except so far as regards the transposition of 
portions of the dialogue. To hear the decla- 
ration attributed to Steevens that " It rarely 
happens that a dramatic piece is altered with 
the same spirit that it was written ; but Titus 
Andronicus has undoubtedly fallen into the 
hands of one whose feelings were congenial 
with those of the original author," is only 
less startling than to find Genest saying that 
Ravenscrof t on the whole "has improved 
Shakespeare." Concerning the actors taking 
part in the early performances of Ravens- 
croft's play nothing is known, nor have we 
the full cast of any representation. Ravens- 
croft's prologue appears to have been lost 
Refusing to engage in any controversy con- 
cerning Shakespeare and Titus Andronicus, 
Langbaine with a feeling that does him credit 
says he will leave it to his (Ravenacroft's) 
" rivals in the wrack of that great man, Mr. 
Dryden, Shadwell, Crown, Tate, and Durfey.* 
He then continues: "To make Mr. Ravens- 
croft some reparation I will here furnish him 
with part of his prologue, which he has lost; 
and if he desire it, send him the whole." This 
precious composition, so far as it is preserved, 
is in the very vein of Tate or Shadwell, be- 
spattering Shakespeare with praise that might 
almost be taken for satire, and dragging the 
great dramatist into dishonouring association 
with his mangier and despoiler: — 

To day the Poet does not fear your Rage 
Shakspear by him reviv'd now treada the Stage : 



INTRODUCTION. 



Under his sacred Lawrels he sits down 

Safe, from the blast of any Criticks Frown, 

Like other Poets, he '11 not proudly scorn 

To own, that he but winnow'd Shakespear's Com; 

So far he was from robbing him of 's Treasure 

That he did add his own to make full Measure. 

—Account of the English Dramatick Poets, p. 465. 

Kavenscroft, it is well known, in his preface 
to his adaptation states that the earlier play 
was " not originally Shakespear's, but brought 
by a private Author to be acted, and he only 
gave some Master-touches to one or two of 
the principal Parts or Characters." It was 
no custom then to supply authorities; and 
whence Kavenscroft obtained his information 
cannot be conjectured. Writing with the 
boastfulness of all who in those davs dealt 
with Shakespeare, he says in words quoted by 
Langbaine, that " if the Reader compare the 
old play with his Copy, he will find that none 
in all that Authors Works ever received 
greater Alterations, or Additions; the Lan- 
guage not only refined, but many Scenes 
entirely new: Besides most of the principal 
Characters heightened, and the Plot much 
encreased." 

The performance was given on the stage, 
aeRavenscroft states, "at the beginning of the 
pretended Popish Plot, when neither wit nor 
honesty had any encouragement . . . yet it 
bore up against the Faction, and is confirmed 
a Stock -Play." The prologue and epilogue 
were lost "in the hurry of those distracted 
times," and others were supplied by Ravens- 
croft, in order to let "the buyer have his penny 
Worth." Langbaine, says Genest, had doubt- 
leas bought the prologue from which he quotes 
*' at the door of the theatre, where Prologues 
^d Epilogues (as Malone says) were usually 
sold on the first night of a new play" (Account 
0^ the Stage, i. 236). 

Dowues mentions Titus Andronicus with 
The Merry Wives of Windsor, Philaster, The 
i^evirsan Ass, The Carnival, The Merry Devil 
of Edmunton, &c., and says: "These being Old 
P%8, were Acted but now and then; yet be- 
"^g well Performed were very Satisfactory to 
^he Town" (Roscius Anglicanus, 9). Grenest 
^^umes that Mrs. Marshall played Tamora, 
but the conjecture, though plausible, is unsup- 
ported by a tittle of evidence. 

VOL. VII. 



On 13th August, 1717, in a summer season 
at Druiy Lane, Titus Andronicus "altered 
from Shakspeare" was given. This was an- 
nounced as the first performance for fifteen 
years. A very meagre cast is supplied. Such 
as it is, as the earliest it is worth quoting. 



Aaron =Quin. 
Titus =MiU8. 
Bassianus — Walker. 



Lucius =Ryan. 
Marcus = Boman. 
Satuminus = Thurmond. 



The remaining characters are omitted. On 
this revival it was acted four times. 

When at the same house, also in a summer 
season, 27 th June 1721, "Titus Andronicus with 
the Rape of Lavinia" was once more revived, 
all mention of tlie female characters is again 
omitted. On this occasion Mills was Titus, 
Walker Aaron, Thurmond Satuminus, Boman 
Marcus, and Williams Lucius. Near the same 
period — 21st Dec. 1720— Titus Andronicus or 
the Rape of Lavinia was for the first time 
iicted at Lincoln's Inn Fields, In this case 
again we have only a fraction of a cast, which, 
however, includes the women. Quin and Ryan, 
who had gone to the new house, played the 
same parts as before, Boheme was Titus, and 
Leigh Satuminus, Mrs. Gifibrd was Tamora, 
and Mrs. Knapp Lavinia. 

Here the English stage record ends. No 
traceable comment upon any of tliese repre- 
sentations exists, and from this time forward 
no one has ventured to bring the play upon 
the stage. From the almost all-embracing 
series of revivals at Sadler's Wells under the 
management of Phelps and Greenwood it was 
excluded, and under the changed conditions 
of existence it is not likely to see the light. 
Should it do so it will almost to a certainty 
be at a private performance. 

It has been stated that a play called "Titus 
and Ondronicus which had never before been 
acted" was performed by the Earl of Sussex's 
men Jan. 23, 1593-94 (Henslowe's Diary, p. 
33, ed. Shakespeare Society); and also (p. 35) 
that in June, 1594, an Andronicus was acted 
by the Lord Admiral's and the Lord Cham- 
berlain's company. 

Titus and Andronicus was not likely to at- 
tract French dramatists, who long resisted the 
introduction of deeds of violence on the stage, 

257 183 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



and no acted play in which any indebtedness 
to Shakespeare or to Ravenjacroft is to be 
traced is to be found in French literature. 
The Titus of Debelloy, acted at the Theatre 
Francais 28 Feb. 1759, is drawn from La 
Clemenza di Tito of Metastasio. Titus An- 
dronicus is assumably one of the plays acted 
in Grermany by the English actors during 
their visits to that country. In the extra- 
vagant piece included in the first volume of 
Englische Comedien vnd Tragedieu, 1620, v. 
1624, 12mo, reprinted by Ludewig Tieck in 
the Deutsches Tlieater, voL i. Berlin, 1817, 
and entitled "A Most Lamentable Tragedy of 
Titus Audronicus and the haughty Empress, 
wherein are found Memorable Events," the 
main lines of Titus Andronicus are closely 
followed. Herr Albert Cohn, who reprints 
this piece with a translation in his Shakespeare 
in Germany, pt. IL 159-236, di-aws in the pre- 
fatory observations to his volume the conclu- 
sion that Titus and Vespasian, acted, according 
to Henslowe's Register, 11th April, 1591, was 
the original on which Titus Andronicus is 
founded. In favour of this he can only ad- 
vance the fact that Vespasian is introduced as 
a principal character in the Grerman play, in 
which he appears as a partisan of Titus Andro- 
nicus, for whom he claims the empire of Rome. 
After the death of Titus he becomes his " son 
and avenger who at the conclusion obtains the 
crown" (Shakespeare in Germany, cxii). An 
argument resting on so slight a foundation 
will, of course, be taken for what it is worth. 
A Dutch imitation of Titus Andronicus ap- 
peared in 4to in 1641 with the title "Aran en 
Titus, of Wraak en Weerwraak," from the pen 
of Jan Vos. Eleven editions of this had seen 
the light by the year 1661. This play was 
popular on the Dutch stage until well into the 
eighteenth century. A version of it was given 
in 1712 by Salomon Van Rusting and another 
in 1716 by Jacob Rosseau. (See the Athen- 
ceum for 13tli July, 1850, p. 738, and 4th 
January, 1851, p. 21.) — J. k. 

CRITICAL REMARKS. 

Titus Andronicus is not an inspiring sub- 
ject of criticism. Looked at from any and 
every point of view it stands convicted of a 

258 



thousand shames — hopeless in its sheer cm- 
dity of construction; in its lack of even the 
average verbal eloquence and distinction of 
style which Shakespeare can at any moment 
command ; in the grotesqueness of the char- 
acterization; above all, hopeless in its lavish 
display of everything that can revolt and dis- 
guBt the reader, to say nothing of the spec- 
tator. Rudely robust must have been the nerves 
of the Elizabethan theatre-goer who could 
tolerate and possibly enjoy the spectacle of 
a maimed and mutilated heroine; and even 
more robust is the Shakespearian loyalty — 
rather a false loyalty — which, pinning its faith 
to the First Folio, approaches the play with a 
full belief in its authenticity, and straightway 
is able to find in it something more than a 
cliaotic muddle of melodramatic horrors. It 
appears to me that if the internal evidence 
of style is ever to count for anything, this is 
essentially a place where the aesthetic test 
should apply; and if we may not in the case 
of Titus Andronicus deny the possibility c£ 
Shakespearian authorship on the ground d 
the utter, unredeemed badness of the woriL, 
why, then, aesthetic criticism must for ever 
hide its diminished head, and Francis Meres 
and the editors of the First Folio may triumph 
and rejoice greatly. If genuine, Titus Androni- 
cus must in point of time have been closely 
connected with Lucrece. Conceive what La- 
crece would have been if carried out in the 
Titus Andronicus spirit. There is nothing 
that we might not have had, no horror of in- 
cident and representation that might not have 
been inflicted on us. Shakespeare could write 
Venus and Adonis and Lucrece and not shock 
us, though each in its theme and idea was full 
of unpleasant possibilities. Now it is not the 
function of the artist to disgust, and Shake- 
speare knew this: he never wantonly goes out 
of his way to pain the reader by the intro- 
duction of superfluously objectionable inci- 
dents. But Titus Andronicus is nothing if 
not nasty; and so stupidly nasty. The comedy 
makes us weep, and the tragedy not unfre- 
quently laugh. 

We are told that many Grerman critics accept 
the play as authentic. It is quite possible. 
Schlegel firmly believed in the genuineness of 




INTRODUCTION. 



Thomas Lord Cromwell. German critics are 
not infallible, and in any case it is late in the 
day to ask us to formulate our judgments 
solely by their dicta. We may be content — 
especially in a case like this where language, 
style, and literary quality of workmanship 
are the real points at issue — to fall back upon 
the opinions of our own great critics; and 
upon the genuineness or non-genuineness of 
Titus Andronicus English criticism speaks 
with no uncertain voice. By the judgment of 
such critics as Coleridge (whose word would 
countervail a legion of learned foreigners), 
Dyce, Hallam, and Sidney Walker, the play 
stands condemned; while other authorities — 
Malone, Staunton — hold tliat Sliakespeare's 
hand is periodically traceable in the work. 
Believing, that is, that there must have been 
some original foundation for the theoiy that 
Shakespeare wrote the play, they credit Shake- 
speare with liaving imdertaken the duty of 
revising the work of some unknown and mani- 
festly incomi>etent dramatist. This, to my 
mind, is the safest ground to take up. Titus 
Andronicus, I Ixjlieve, was written by a fifth- 
rate pbiywright who had read — and read not 
wisely but too well — the Spanish Tragedy of 
Thomas Kyd : hence the atmosphere of insen- 
sate melodrama which pervades the five acts; 
hence the rhapsody and rant, the profusion of 
blood and burlesque, the thousand and one 
incidental touches that remind us of the old- 
fashioned tragedy which Shakespeare himself 
effectually drove from the field. And then 
Shakespeare gave the work half an hour's re- 
vision and — far more important — his name; 
and the less critical of the " groundlings " may 
have accepted the piece in all sincerity and 
simplicity as a genuine and characteristic 
achievement of the great dramatist. We may 
admire their unquestioning faith, but per- 
sonally I cannot imitate it. 

Of the dramatis persome a word. In many 
respects the character-treatment, such as it is, 
follows that of Marlowe, though at a consider- 
able distance, with much less unity of concep- 
tion and sustained elevation of manner. The 
characters, so far as they have individuality, 
are almost all worked out on a few simple 
lines of passion, without complexity of motive, 



and in a manner not wholly unsuggestive 
of the personifications of single virtues and 
vices in the older drama. Some clue is given 
to the working of the author's mind in this 
regard when Tamora poses before Titus as 
Revenge, sent from below to join with him 
and right his wrongs, and points to her sons 
as her ministers Eapine and Murder. The 
allegorizing tendency shows most clearly 
through the thin guise of this wildly extrava- 
gant strategy, but from the vei-y first scene, 
in which her eldest son is shiin by the sons 
of Titus, it is always as Revenge, Rapine, and 
Murder, not as human beings, that Tamora 
and her sons cross the stage. She is the 
" heinous tiger," beast-like and devoid of pity, 
and the "tiger's young ones" are always ready 
not only to gratify her revenge, but to suggest 
more brutal methods of carr^ang it out than 
she herself dreams. Of the other chai-acters, 
two only are worth noticing, the deeply -dyed 
villain Aaron, and Titus Andronicus himself. 
There is a touch — far off, perhaps, but still a 
touch — of power in the latter. H is pagan stoical 
})itilessness in killing his son; his desperate, 
consuming desire of revenge, a desire that soon 
passes into actual madness; and this real mad- 
ness, heightened, accentuated, relieved by the 
assumed insanity of the last scene; these are 
elements of impressiveness. But all is rough, 
unwrought. There is no continuity of effect, 
nothing more than a passing suggestion from 
time to time of inspiration; if we linger with 
pleasure over one speech, we are shocked by 
the next. And we need not wonder that it 
should be so. The theory that the play 
represents Shakespeare's careless, perfunctory 
revision of some hopelessly bad original would 
account for the irregularity and unevenness 
of the character of the protagonist of the 
dnima. Titus Andronicus coiUd never l)e any- 
thing more than what we find him — a melo- 
dramatic creation such as the uncritical in all 
ages have applauded. And Titus Andronicus 
lias an appropriate counterpart in Aaron. 
Aaron is simply a vulgar embodiment of very 
inferior villainy. His vice has nothing of the 
artistic quality, the finish, the subtlety that 
lend such distinction to the motiveless malig- 
nity of lago. And he ciinnot claim to be ori- 

259 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ginal. He is a stock character of the Eliza- 
bethan stage in its earliest days; a piece of 
theatrical property, so to speak, a lay-figure 
which the uninventive playwright kept in his 
studio and periodically produced, with the 
certainty of touching an unlettered audience. 
There is little art in such a character, and less 
nature. At best Aaron can only possess a 
certain antiquarian interest for us as being a 
type of the conventional villain of the foot- 
lights, much such a monster, in fact, as Mar- 

260 



lowe made his Barabbas in the last three acts 
of The Jew of Malta. 

Perhaps nothing more danming can be said 
of the play than this — that these characters 
are jthe only figures in the motley crowd of 
puppets that merit a single line of comment 
The others are neither more nor less than 
dramatic machinery, and veiy bad machineiy 
too; and it is with infinite relief that one 
turns from a work as dreary and depressing 
as any that dramatic literature can show. 




"i^ 




TITUS ANDE0NICU8. 



ScESE I. Rome. Before the Capitol. 

The Tomb of tlie Aiuirutiici appearing; tlie 
Tribanet ami !^enators aloft. Enter, beloa, 
from one aiile, Saturninits and his Fol- 
lo\rer»; aad,froMtkenther tide,'BAaai\sva 
and hit Folloirerg ; mlU JruiiD and colours. 
Sat. Noble {intriciaiis, patroiui of my right, 
Defemi the justice of my cause witli armfi; 
■And, countrymen, my liwiiig followers, 
PleaJ my BUcceasire title with your swords: 
1 am ii'm tirat-boni son, that was the last 
That wore th' imperial diaJem of Rome; 
Then let my father's bonours live in me, 
S'ur wrong mine age with this indignity. 
llai. Romans,— friends, followers, favourers 
of my right,— 
tf ever Bassianus, Cieaar'a son, lo 

Were gracious in the eyes of royal Rome, 
Keep, then, this jiassage to the (lipitol; 
And suffer not dishonour to approach 
Tb' imperial seat, to virtue consecrate. 
To justice, continence,' and nobility: 



t, teDip«n>Dce, 



But let desert in pure election sbine; 

And, Romans, Hgbt for freedom in yourchoice. 



£iiter Marcus Andi 



L's, aloji, icith the 



Marc, Princes, — that strive by factious and 
by friends 
Ambitiously for rule and empery,^ 
Know that the people of Rome, for whom we 
stand so 

A special party, have, by common voice, 
In election for the Roman empery. 
Chosen Andronicus, sumamed Pius 
For many good and great deserts to Rome: 
A nobler man, a braver warrior. 
Lives not this day within the city walls: 
He by the senate is accited' home 
From weary wars against the barbarous Goths; 
That, with his sons, a terror to our foes, s» 
Hath yok'd a nation strong, train'd up in arms. 
Ten years are spent since first he undertook 
Tliis caitse of Rome, and chastised with anus 
('pride: five times he bath return'd 



> Aecittd. HUmnKHjcd. 



ACT I. Soene 1. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT I. Soene 1. 



Bleeding to Home, bearing his valiant sons 
In coffins from the field ; 
And now at last, laden with honour's spoils, 
Ketums the good Andronicus to Rome, 
Renowned Titus, flourishing in arms. 
Let us entreat, — by honour of his name, 
Whom worthily you would have now succeed, 
And in the Capitol and senate's right, 41 

Whom you pretend^ to honour and adore, — 
That you withdraw you, and abate your 

strength; 
Dismiss your followers, and, as suitors should. 
Plead your deserts in peace and humbleness. 
Sat. How fair the tribune speaks to calm 

my thoughts I 
Bas. Marcus Andronicus, so I do atfy^ 
In thy uprightness and integrity, 
And so I love and honour thee and thine. 
Thy noble brother Titus and his sons, 50 

And her to whom my thoughts are humbled 

all, 
Gracious Lavinia, Rome's rich ornament. 
That I will here dismiss my loving friends; 
And to my fortunes and the people's favour 
Commit my cause in balance to be weigh'tl. 
[Exetini the Followers of Basnaniis. 
Sat. Friends, that have been thus forward 
in my right, 
I thank you all, and here dismiss you all; 
And to the love and favour of my country 
Commit myself, my person, and the cause. 

[Exeunt the Followers of Sataryiinus. 
Rome, be as just and gracious unto me 60 
As I am confident and kind to thee. — 
Open the gates, and let me in. 

Ba^s. Tribunes, and me, a poor competitor. 
[Flourish. Satumimis and Basstamcs 
go up into the Capitol, 

Enter a Captain. 

Cap. Romans, make way: the good Androni- 
cus, 
Patron of virtue, Rome's best champion. 
Successful in the battles that he fights, 
With honour and with fortune is return'd 
From where he circumscribed ^ with his sword. 
And brought to yoke, the enemies of Rome. 

^ Pretend, intend. 

2 ^/j/ = trust 

* Cireumteribed, restrained. 

262 



Drutns and trumpets sounded. Enter Martics 
anc^MuTius; after thetn, two Men hearing 
a coffin^ covered xcith Hack; then IjUcius 
and QuiNTua After them^ Titus An- 
dronicus; and then, Tamora, with Aijlr- 
Bus, Demetrius, Chiron, Aaron, and 
other Uoths^prison/ers; Soldiers and People 
fdlowing. The Bearers set down the coffirO^ 
and Titus speaks. 

Tit. Hail, Rome, victorious in thy mourn- 
ing weeds I 70 
Lo,as the bark that hath discharg'd her fraught 
Returns with precious lading to the bay 
From whence at first she weigh'd her anchorage, 
Cometh Andronicus, bound with laurel-boughs, 
To re-salute his country with his tears, — 
Teara of true joy for his return to Rome. — 
Thou* great defender of this Capitol, 
Stand gracious to the rites that we intend ! — 
Romans, of five-and -twenty valiant sons, 7» 
Half of the number that King Priam had. 
Behold the poor remains, alive and dead I 
These that survive let Rome rew^ard with love; 
These that I bring unto their latest home, 
With burial amongst their ancestors: 
Here Goths have given me leave to sheathe 

my sword. 
Titus, unkind, and careless of thine o^-n. 
Why sutfer'st thou thy sons, uuburied yet, 
To hover on the dreadful shore of Styx? — 
Make way to lay them by their brethren. — 

[The tonib is opened. 
There greet in silence, as the dead are wont. 
And sleep in peace, slain in your country's 
wars I 91 

O sacred receptacle of my joys. 
Sweet cell of viitue and nobility. 
How many sons of mine hast thou in store,* 
That thou wilt never render to me more! 
Luc, Give us the proudest prisoner of the 
Goths, 
That we may hew his limbs, and on a pile 
Ad manes fratrum^ sacrifice his flesh. 
Before this earthy prison of their bones; 
That so the shadows be not unappeas'd, lOO 
Nor we disturb'd with prodigies on earth. 

* Thou, i.e. Jupiter Capitolinus. 

5 In tttore, in keeping. 

<^ Ad manes fratrum-U> the shades of my brothers. 



ACT I. Scene 1. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT I. Scene 1. 



7%t. I give him you, — the noblest that sur- 
vives, 102 
The eldest son of this distressed queen. 

Tarn. Stay, Koman brethren! — Gracious 
conqueror. 
Victorious Titus, rue the tears I shed, 
A mother's tears in passion for her son: 
And if thy sons were ever dear to thee, 
0, think my son to be as dear to me! 
Sufiiceth not, that we are brought to Rome, 
To beautify thy triumphs and return, no 
Captive to thee and to thy Roman yoke; 
But must my sons be slaughtered in the streets, 
For valiant doings in their country's cause i 
0, if to fight for king and commonweal 
Were piety in thine, it is in these. 
Androuicus, stain not thy tomb with blood: 
Wilt thou draw near the nature of the gods? 
Draw near them, then, in being merciful: 
Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge: 
Thrice-noble Titus, spare my first-bom son. 

Tit, Patient yourself, ma(^lam, and pardon 

me. 121 

These are their brethren, whom you Groths 

beheld 
Alive and dead; and for their brethren sLiin 
Religiously they ask a sacrifice: 
To this your son is mark'd; and die he must, 
T appease their groaning shadows that are 
gone. 

Luc. Away with him! and make a fire 
straight; 
And with our swords, upon a pile of wood. 
Let 's hew his limbs till they be clean consumed. 
[Exeunt Lucius, Qutntus, AfartiuSj and 
JfutiuSy with Alarbus. 

Tarn. O cruel, irreligious piety! i30 

CkL Was ever Scythia half so barbarous? 

Dem. Opposenot Scythia to ambitious Rome. 
Alarbus goes to rest; and we survive 
To tremble under Titus' threatening looks. 
Then, madam, stand resolved; but hope withal, 
The self -same gods, that arm'd the Queen of 

Troy 
With opportunity of sharp revenge 
Upon the Thracian tyrant in his tent. 
May favour Tamora, the queen of Goths, — 
When Goths were (xoths, and Tamora was 
queen, — 140 

To quit her bloody wrongs upon her foes. 



Re-enter Lucius, Quintus, Martius, and 
MuTius, vnth their swords bloody, 

Luc. See, lord and father, how we have 

perform'd n2 

Our Roman rites: Alarbus' limbs are lopp'd, 
And entrails feed the sacrificing fire. 
Whose smoke, like incense, doth perfume the 

sky. 
Remaineth^ naught, but to inter our brethren, 
And with loud 'lanims welcome them to Rome. 

Tit. Let it be so; and let AndrOnicus 
Make this his latest farewell to their souls. 

[Trumpets somidedy and the coffin laid 
in the tomb. 
In peace and honour rest you here, my sons; 
Rome's readiest champions, repose you here 

in rest, 151 

Secure from worldly chances and mishaps! 
Here lurks no treason, here no envy swells. 
Here grow no damned grudges; here are no 

storms. 
No noise; but silence and eternal sleep: 

Enter Lavinia. 

In peace and honour rest you here, my sons! 

Lav. In peace and honour live Lord Titus 
long; 
My noble lord and father, live in fame! 
Lo, at this tomb my tributary tears 
I render, for my brethren's obsequies; 160 
And at thy feet I kneel, with tears of joy. 
Shed on the earth, for thy return to Rome: 
O, bless me here with thy victorious hand. 
Whose fortunes Rome's best citizens applaud! 

Tit, Kind Rome, that hast thus lovingly 
reserv'd 
The cordial of mine age to glad my heart! — 
Lavinia, live; outlive thy father's days. 
And fame's eternal date,^ for virtue's praise! 

Enter, below, Marcus Andronicus and 
Tribunes; re-enter Saturninus and Bas- 
siANUS, attended. 

Marc, Long live Lord Titus, my beloved 
brother, 
Gracious triiimpher in the eyes of Rome! iTo 



1 Rtmaituth, i.e. tliere remaineth. 
s And fame'i eternal date, ie. may jrou live longer 
than fame henelf. 

263 



ACT I. Soene 1. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT I. Soeiw 1. 



Tit. Thanks, gentle tribune, noble brother 
Marcus. in 

Marc, And welcome, nephews, from suc- 
cessful wars, 
You that survive, and you that sleep in fame! 
Fair lords, your fortunes are alike in all. 
That in your country's service drew your 

swords: 
But safer triumph is this funeral pomp. 
That hath aspired to Solon's happiness, 
And triumphs over chance in honour's bed. — 
Titus Andronicus, the people of Rome, 179 
Whose friend in justice thou hast ever been. 
Send thee by me, their tribune and their trust. 
This palliament of white and spotless hue; 
And name thee in election for the empire. 
With these our late-deceased emperor's sons: 
Be candidatuSy^ then, and put it on. 
And help to set a head on headless Rome. 

Tit. A better head her glorious body fits 
Than his that shakes for age and feebleness: 
What^ should I don this robe, and trouble you ? 
Be chosen with proclamations to-day, 190 

To-morrow yield up rule, resign my life. 
And set abroad new business for you all? 
Rome, I have been thy soldier forty years, 
And led my country's strength successfully, 
And buried one-and-twenty valiant sons, 
Knighted in field, slain manfully in arms, 
In right and service of their noble country: 
Give me a staflf of honour for mine age, 
But not a sceptre to control the world: 
Upright he held it, lords, that held it last 

Marc, Titus, thou shalt obtain and ask the 
empery. 201 

Sat. Proud and ambitious tribune, canst 
thou tell? 

Tit. Patience, Prince Saturnine. 

ScU. Romans, do me right; — 

Patricians, draw your swords, and sheathe 

them not 
Till Satuminus be Rome's emperor. — 
Andronicus, would thou wert shipp'd to hell, 
Rather than rob me of the people's hearts! 

L^w. Proud Saturnine, interrupter of the 
good 
That noble-minded Titus means to thee! 



1 Candidatut. referring to the white toga worn by can- 
didates for office. 3 What = why. 

264 



Tit. Content thee, prince; I will restore to 
thee 210 

The people's hearts, and wean them from 
themselve& 

Bos. Andronicus, I do not flatter thee, 
But honour thee, and will do till I die: 
My faction if thou strengthen with thy friends, 
I will most thankful be; and thanks to men 
Of noble minds is honourable meed. 

Tit, People of Rome, and people's tribunes 
here, 
I ask your voices and your suffrages: 
Will you bestow them friendly on Andronicus? 

Tribunes. To gratify the good Andronicus, 
And gratuiate his safe return to Rome, 221 
The people will accept whom he admits. 

Tit, Tribunes, I thank you: and this suit I 
make. 
That you create your emperor's eldest son. 
Lord Saturnine; whose virtues will, I hope, 
Reflect on Rome as Titan's I'ays on earth. 
And ripen justice in this commonweal*: 
Then, if you will elect by my advice. 
Crown him, and say, " Long live our emperor I " 

Marc. With voices and applause of every 
sort, 230 

Patricians and plebeians, we create 
Lord Saturninus Rome's great emperor. 
And say, " Long live our Emperor Saturnine! " 

[A lo}ig flouriih. 

Sat. Titus Andronicus, for thy favours done 
To us in our election this day 
I give thee thanks in part of thy deserts. 
And will with deeds requite thy gentleness: 
And, for an onset,^ Titus, to advance 
Thy name and honourable family, 
Lavinia will I make my empress,^ 240 

Rome's royal mistress, mistress of my heart. 
And in the sacred P4ntheon her espouse: 
Tell me, Andronicus, doth this motion please 
thee? 

Tit, It doth, my worthy lord ; and in this 
match 
I hold me highly honour'd of your grace: 
And here, in sight of Rome, to Saturnine — 
King and commander of our commonweal. 
The wide world's emperor — do I consecrate 



> Far an onset ^h» a beginning. 
* Empreu^ a trisyllable. 



ACT I. Scene 1. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT I. Scene 1. 



My sword, my chariot, and my prisoners; 
Presents well worthy Rome's imperious lord: 
Receive them, then, the tribute that I owe. 
Mine honour's ensigns humbled at thy feet. 

ScU. Thanks, noble Titus, father of my life! 
How proud I am of thee and of thy gifts 
Rome shall record; and when I do forget 
The least of these unspeakable deserts, 
Romans, forget your fealty to me. 

Tit. [To Tamora] Now, madam, are you 

prisoner to an emperor; 

To him that, for your honour and your state. 

Will use you nobly and your followers. 260 

ScU, \Atide\ A goodly lady, trust me; of the 

hue 

That I would choose, were I to choose anew. — 

Clear up, fair queen, that cloudy countenance: 

Though chance of war hath wrought this 

change of cheer, 
Thou com'st not to be made a scorn in Rome: 
Princely shall be thy usage every way. 
Rest on my word, and let not discontent 
Daunt all your hopes: madam, he comforts you 
Can^ make you greater than the Queen of 

Goths. — 
Lavinia, you are not displeas'd with this? 270 

Lav. Not I, my lord; sith true nobility 
Warrants these words in princely courtesy. 
Sat. Thanks, sweet Lavinia. — Romans, let 
us go: 
Bansomless here we set our prisoners free: 
Proclaim our honours, lords, with trump and 
drum. [FlourUh. 

[Saturninus courts Tamora in dumb-show. 
Bos. Lord Titus, by your leave, this maid 
is mine. [Seising Lavinia. 

Tit. How, sirl are you in earnest, then, my 
lord? 

Bos. Ay, noble Titus; and resolVd withal 
To do myself this reason and this right 

Ifarc. Suum cuique^ is our Roman justice: 
This prince in justice seizeth but his own. 281 
Luc. And that he will, and shall, if Lucius 

live. 
Tit. Traitors, avaunt! — ^Where is the em- 
peror's guard? — 
Treason, my lord, — Lavinia is surpris'd! 

1 Can, Le. that can. 

* Suum cuique^ i.e. to each that which is his own. 
Apparently euiqu4 mtut be pronounced euiqtte. 



Sat. Surpris'd! by whom? 
Ba^. By him that justly may 

Bear his betroth'd from all the world away. 
[Exeunt Bassianus and Marcus with 
Lavinia. 
Afut. Brothers, help to convey her hence 
away, 
And with my sword I '11 keep this door safe. 
[Exe^int Lucius, Quintus, and MartitLS. 
Tit. Follow, my lord, and I '11 soon bring her 
back. 289 

Mut. My lord, you pass not here. 
Tit. What, villain boy! 

Barr'st me my way in Rome? 

[Stabbing Mutius. 
Mut. Help, Lucius, help! [Dies. 

Re-enter Lucius. 

Luc. My lord, you are unjust; and, more 
than so. 
In wrongful quarrel you have slain your son. 
Tit. Nor thou, nor he, are any sons of mine; 
My sons would never so dishonour me: 
Traitor, restore Lavinia to the emperor. 
Luc. Dead, if you will; but not to be his 
wife, 
That is another's lawful-prom is'd love. [Exit, 
Sat. No, Titus, no ; the emperor needs her 
not. 
Nor her, nor thee, nor any of thy stock: aoo 
I '11 trust, by leisure, him that mocks me once; 
Tliee never, nor thy traitorous haughty sons. 
Confederates all thus to dishonour me. 
Was there none else in Rome to make a stale,^ 
But Saturnine? Full well, Andronicus, 
Agree these deeds with that proud bi'ag of 

thine. 
That saidst, I begg'd the empire at thy hands. 
Tit. O monstrous! what reproachful words 

are these? 
Sat. But go thy ways; go, give that chang- 
ing piece 809 
To him that flourish'd for her with his sword: 
A valiant son-in-law thou shalt enjoy; 
One fit to bandy with thy lawless sons, 
To ruffle in the commonwealth of Rome. 
Tit. These words are razors to my wounded 
heart 

3 To make a itale, to make a dupe of. 
265 



ACT L Soeii6 1. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT L Scene 1. 



Sat. And therefore, lovely Tamora, queen 

of Groths, — 
That, like the stately Phoebe 'monggt her 

nymphs, 
Dostovershine the gallant'st dames of Home, — 
If thou be pleas'd with this my sudden choice, 
Behold, I choose thee, Tamora, for my bride. 
And will create thee empress of Home. 320 
Speak, Queen of Goths, dost thou applaud my 

choice? 
And here I swear by all the Roman gods, — 
Sith priest and holy water are so near. 
And tapers burn so bright, and every thing 
In readiness for Hymenaeus stand, — 
I will not re-salute the streets of Rome, 
Or climb my palace, till from forth this place 
I lead espous'd my bride along with me. 
Tarn. And here, in sight of heaven, to 

Rome I swear. 
If Saturnine advance the Queen of Goths, 
She will a handmaid be to his desires, 331 
A loving nurse, a mother to his youth. 

Sat. Ascend, fair queen. Pantheon. — Lords, 

accompany 
Your noble emperor and his lovely bride, 
Sent by the heavens for Prince Saturnine, 
Whose wisdom hath her fortune conquered: 
There shall we c6nsummate our spousal rites. 
[Exeunt Saturninus attended, Tamora^ 
Demetriu^y Chiron, Aaron, and Goths. 
Tit. I am not bid* to wait upon this bride: — 
Titus, when wert thou wont to walk alone. 
Dishonoured thus, and challenged* of wrongs? 

Re-etUer Marcus, Lucius, Quintus, and 

Martius. 

Marc. O Titus, see, O see what thou hast 
done! 341 

In a bad quarrel slain a virtuous son. 

Tit. No, foolish tribune, no; no son of mine, — 
Nor thou, nor these, confederates in the deed 
That hath dishonoured all our family; 
Unworthy brother, and unworthy sons ! 

Luc. But let us give him burial, as becomes; 
Give Mutius burial with our brethren. 

Tit. Traitors, away! he rests not in this 
tomb: — 
This monument five hundred years hath stood, 

i J?td=inTited. 

* CAoZ/en^ed = accii8ed. 

266 



Which I have sumptuously re-edified: 351 
Here none but soldiers and Rome's servitors 
Repose in fame; none basely slain in brawls:— 
Bury him where you can, he comes not here. 

Marc. My lord, this is impiety in you: 
My nephew Mutius* deeds do plead for him; 
He must be buried with his brethren. 

Quin. ) And shall, or him we will accom- 

Mart. ) pany. 

Tit. *^ And shall"! what villain was it spake 

that word? 

Quin. He that would vouch^ 't in any place 

but here. 360 

Tit. What, would you bury him in my despite? 

Marc. No, noble Titus; but entreat of thee 

To pardon Mutius, and to bury him. 

Tit. Marcus, even thou hast struck upon 
my crest, 
And, with these boys, mine honour thou hast 

wounded: 
My foes 1 do repute you every one; 
So, trouble me no more, but get you gone. 
Mart. He is not with himself; let us withdraw. 
Quin. Not I, till Mutius' bones be buried. 
[Marcus and the sons of Titus kneel. 
Marc. Brother, for in that name doth nature 
plead, — 370 

Quin. Father, and in that name doth nature 

speak, — 
Tit. Speak thou no more, if all the rest will 

speed. 
Marc. Renowned Titus, more than half my 

soul, — 
Lu<:. Dear father, soul and substance of us 

all,— 
Marc. Suffer thy brother Marcus to inter 
His noble nephew here in virtue's nest, 
That died in honour and Lavinia's cause. 
Thou art a Roman, — be not barbarous: 
The Greeks upon advice did bury Ajaz, 
That slew himself; and wise Laertes' son 
Did graciously plead for his funerals: ssi 

Ijet not young Mutius, then, that was thy joy. 
Be ban^d his entrance here. 

Tit. Rise, Marcus, rise: — 

[Marcus and the others rise. 
The dismall'st day is this that e'er I saw, 
To be dishonour'd by my sons in Rome ! — 

* Voueh-mnke good. 



ACT I. Soeiw 1. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT I. Scene 1. 



Well, bury him, and bury me the next 

[Jfutius 18 put into the tomb. 
Lu<:. There lie thy bones, sweet Mutius, with 
thy friends, 
Till we with trophies do adorn thy tomb. 
All, [^Kneeliiu/] No man shed tears for noble 
Mutius; 389 

He lives in fame that died in virtue's cause. 
Marc. [Rising vnth the rest] My lord, — to step 
out of these dreary dumps, — 
How comes it that the subtle Queen of Goths 
Is of a sudden thus advanc'd in Rome? 

Tit. I know not, Marcus; but I know it is, — 

Whether by device or no, the heavens can tell: 

Is she not, then, beholding to the man 

That brought her for this high good turn so far ? 

Jfarc. Yes, and will nobly him remunerate. 

Flourish. He-enter, from one side, Saturninus 
attended, Tamora, Demetrius, Chiron, 
and Aaron; from the other, Bassiaxus, 
Lavinia, and others. 

Sat. So, Bassianus, you have play 'd your prize : 
God give you joy, sir, of your gallant bride I 

Bas. And you of yours, my lord ! I say no 
more, 40i 

Nor wish no less; and so, I take my leave. 

Q Sat. Traitor, if Rome have law, or we have 
power, 
Thou and thy faction shall repent this rape. 

Bas. Rape, call you it, my lord, to seize my 
/ own, 

'My true-betrothed love, and now my wife?] 
But let the laws of Rome determine aU; 
Meanwhile I am possessed of that is mine. 

Silt. 'Tis good, sir: you are very short with 
us; 409 

But, if we live, we '11 be as sharp with you. 

Bas. My lord, what I have done, as best I 
may 
Answer^ I must, and shall do with my life. 
Only this much I give you grace to know, — 
By all the duties that I owe to Rome, 
This noble gentleman. Lord Titus here, 
Is in opinion and in honour wrong'd; 
That, in the rescue of Lavinia, 
With his own hand did slay his youngest son, 
In zeal to you, and highly mov'd to wrath 

1 Answer, i.e. aniwer for. 



J 



To be controll'd in that he frankly gave: 420 
Receive him, then, to favour, Saturnine, 
That hath express'd himself in all his deeds 
A father and a friend to thee and Rome. 
Tit. Prince Bassianus, leave to plead my 

deeds: 
T is thou and those that have dishonoured me. 
Rome and the righteous heavens be my judge^ 
How I have lov'd and honoured Saturnine I 

Tarn. My worthy lord, if ever Tamora 
Were gracious in those princely eyes of thine^ 
Then hear me sj^eak inditferently for all; 430 
And at my suit, sweet, pardon what is past 

Sat. What, madam ! be dishonoured openly. 
And basely put it up without revenge? 
Tarn. Not so, my lord; the gods of Rome 

forfend 
I should be author to dishonour you! 
But on mine honour dare I undertake 
For good Lord Titus' innocence in all; 
Whose fury not dissembled speaks his griefs: 
Then, at my suit, look graciously on him; 
Lose not so noble a friend on vain suppose, 
Nor with sour looks afflict his gentle heart. — 
[Aside to Satttrniniui] My lord, be rul'd by me, 

be won at last; 442 

Dissemble all your griefn and discontents: 
You are but newly planted in your throne; 
Lest, then, the people, and patricians too, 
Upon a just survey,* take Titus' part. 
And so supplant you for ingratitude, — 
Which Rome reputes to be a heinous sin, — 
Yield at entreats; and then let me alone: 
I '11 find a day to massacre them all, 4fio 

And raze their faction and their family. 
The cruel father and his traitorous sons, 
To whom I sued for my dear son's life; 
And make them know what 't is to let a queen 
Kneel in the streets and beg for grace in vain.- - 
Come, come, sweet emperor, — come, Androni- 

cus, — 
Take up this good old man, and cheer the heart 
Tliat dies in tem])est of thy angry frown. 
Sat. Rise, Titus, rise; my empress hath pre- 

vail'd. 45> 

Tit. I thank your majesty, and her, my lord: 

These words, these looks, infuse new life in me.. 



3 Upon a just nirvey, i.e. after fairly considering the 
matter. 

267 



ACT I. Scene 1. 



TITUS ANDKONICUS. 



ACT II. Scene 1. 



Tarn. Titus, I am incorporate in Rome, 
A Roman now adopted happily, 463 

And must advise the emperor for his good. 
This day all quarrels die, Androuicus; — 
And let it be mine honour, good my lord. 
That I have reconciled your friends and you. — 
For you, Prince Bassianus, I have pass'd^ 
My word and promise to the emperor, 4«9 
That you will be more mild and tractable. — 
And fear not, lords, — and you, Lavinia; — 
By my advice, all humbled on your knees. 
You shall ask pardon of his majesty. 

[J/arci«, Lavinia^ ai\d the sorts of 
Titles kneeH. 

Luc. We do; and vow to heaven, and to his 
highness, 
That what we did was mildly as we might, 
Tendering our siater^s honour and our own 

Marc. That, on mine honour, here I do pro- 
test. 

Sat. Away, and talk not; trouble us no more. 



Tarn. Nay, nay, sweet emperor, we must all 
be friends: 479 

The tribune and his nephews kneel for grace; 
I will not be denied : sweet heart, look back. 
Sat. Marcus, for thy sake and thy brother's 
here, 
And at my lovely Tamora's entreats, 
I do remit ^ these young men's heinous faults. 

[Marcus and the others rise. 
Lavinia, though you left me like a churl, 
I found a friend; and sure as death I swore 
I would not part a l)achelor from the priest. 
Come,if the emperor's court can feast two brides. 
You are my guest, Lavinia, and yourfriends. — 
This day shall be a love-day, Tamora. 491 

Tit. To-moiTow, an it please your majesty 
To hunt the panther and the hart with me, 
With horn and hound we '11 give your grace 
bonjour. 
Sat. Be it so, Titus, and gramercy too. 

[Flourish. Exeunt. 



ACT II. 



Scene L Rome. Before the palace. 

Enter Aaron. 

Aar. Now climbeth Tamora Olympus' top. 
Safe out of fortune's shot; and sits aloft. 
Secure of thunder's crack or lightning-flash; 
Advanc'd above pale envy's threatening reach. 
As when the golden sun salutes the mom. 
And, having gilt the ocean with his beams. 
Gallops the zodiac in his glistering coach. 
And overlooks the highest-peering hills; 
So Tamora: 

Upon her wit doth earthly honour wait, lo 
And virtue stoops and trembles at her frown. 
Then, Aaron, arm thy heart,and fit thy thoughts. 
To mount aloft with thy imperial mistress. 
And mount her pitch, whom thou in triumph 

long 
Hast prisoner held, fettered in amorous chains. 
And faster bound to Aaron's charming eyes 
Than is Prometheus tied to Caucasus. 
Away with slavish weedsand servile thoughts! 



1 PaM'd=: pledged. 



3 Remit, pardon. 



I will be bright, and shine in pearl and gold, 
To wait upon this new-made empress. 20 

t To wait, said I ? to wanton with this queen, , 
This goddess, this Semiramis, this nymph, ', 
This siren, that will charm Rome's Saturnine, ; 
And see his shipwreckand his common weal's. — 
Holla ! what storm is this ?] 

EiUer Demetrius and Chiron, braving.^ 

Dent. Chiron, thy years want wit, thy wit 
wants edge. 
And manners, to intrude where I am grac'd; 
And may, for aught thou knoWst, affected be. 

Chi. Demetrius, thou dost over- ween in all; 
And so* in this, to bear me down with braves. 
'T is not the difference of a year or two si 
Makes me less gracious, or thee more fortu- 
nate: 
I am as able and as fit as thou 
To serve, and to deserve my mistress' grace; 
And that my sword upon thee shall approve, 
And plead my passions for Lavinia's love. 



3 Bratrtn{7 = threatening each other. 



«So=:abo. 



268 



TITUS ANDEONICUS. 



ACT II. e 



Aar. [il«ufe] Clubs, clubs! these lovers will 

not keep the pea(%. 
Deal. Why, boy, although our mother, nn- 
Advis'd, 
Gave you a danciiig-rapier by your side, 
Are you so desperate grown to threat your 
friends? 40 

Goto; have your lath glu'd within your sheath 
7411 you know better how to handle it. 

ChL Meanwhile, sir, with the little skill I 

Full Well ahalt thou perceive how much I dare. 
Dem. Ay, boy, grow ye so brave) 

[They drair. 
Aar. [Coming forvMrd] Why, how now. 

So near the emperor's pabtce dare you diaw. 

And maintain such a quarrel openly? 

Full well I wot the ground of all this grudge; 

I would not for a million of gold 

The cause were known to them it moat cou- 

Nor would your noble mother for much more 
Be so diahouour'd in the court of Eome. 
Fur ahame, put up. 

Dem. Not I, till I have sheath'd 

]Uy tapier in hia bosom, and withal 
Tlirust these reproachful speeches down his 

throat 
That he hath breath'd in my dishonour here. 

Chi. For that I am prepar'd aud full re- 

Holv-d,— 

Pout-spoken coward, that thunder'st with thy 

And with thy weapon nothing dar'at perform. 
Aar. Away, I say! — «0 

Now, by the gods that warlike Goths adore. 
This petty brabble wil! undo us all.^ 
Why, lords, and think you not how dangerous 
It ii to jet upon* a prince's right? 
'CWhat, is lAvinia, then, become so looee, 
>0r BaasianuH so degenerate, 
.Hiat for her love such quarrels maybe broach'd 
'. Without controlment, Juatice, or revenge?] 
Tfoung lords, beware! an should the empress 

^ii discord's ground, the music would not 



Chi. I care not, I, knew she and all the 
world: 71 

I love LAvinia more than all the world. 
Jkm. Youngling, learn thou to make some 
meaner choice: 
Lavinia is thine elder brother's hope. 
Aar. Why, are ye mad? or know ye not, in 

How furious and impatient they be, 




And cannot brook competitors in love? 

I tell you, lords, you do but plot your 

deaths 
By this device. 

[ Chi. Aaron, a thousand deaths ! 

Would I projiose t' achieve her whom I love. > 

Aar. T achieve her'. — how? 

Dem. Why mak'st thou it so strange?^ 

She is a woman, therefore may b« woo'd; Bi, 
She is a woman, therefore may be won; 
She is Lavinia, therefore must be lov'd. 
What, man! more water glideth by the mill ! 
Than wots the miller of; and easy it is 
Of a cut loaf to steal a shive, we know: i 



ACT II. Soene 1. 



TITUS ANDKONICUS. 



ACT II. Scene 2. 



^Though Bassianus be the emperor's brother, 
J Better than he have worn^ Vulcan's badge.* 
Aar, [AMe] Ay, and as good as Saturuinus 
niay. 90 

Dem. Then why should he despair that 
knows to court it 
With words, fair looks, and liberality? 
What, hast not thou full often struck a doe. 
And borne her cleanly by the keeper's nose? 
Aar. Why, then, it seems, some certain 
snatch or so 
; Would serve your turns. 



Chi, 



Ay, so the turn were serv'd. 



f Dem, Aaron, thou hast hit it. 
I Aar. Would you had hit it tool 

<;Then should not we be tir'd with this ado. 
i Why, hark ye, hark ye, — and are you such fools 
^To square for this? would it offend you, then, 
^That both should speed? loi 

J Chi. Faith, not me. 

I Ueni. Nor me, so I were one. 

\ Aar. For shame, be friends, and join for 
''^ that you jar: 
^ 'T is policy and stratagem must do 
5 That you affect; and so must you resolve, ] 
That wliat you cannot as you would achieve, 
You must perforce accomplish as you may. 
Take this of me, — Lucrece was not more cliaste 
Than this Lavinia, Bassianus' love. 109 

A speedier course than lingering languishment 
Must we pursue, and I have found the path. 
My lords, a solemn hunting is in hand; 
There will the lovely Roman ladies troop: 
^[The forest- walks are wide and spacious; 
< And many unfrequented plots there are 
< Fitted by kind' for rape and villany: ] 
Single you thither, then, this dainty doe. 
And strike her home by force, if not by words: 
This way, or not at all, stand you in hope. 
Come, come, our empress, with her sacred^ wit 
To villany and vengeance consecrate, 121 

Will we acquaint with all that we intend; 
And she shall file our engines with advice. 
That will not suffer you to square yourselves. 
But to your wishes' height advance you both. 
^[The emperor's court is like the house of Fame, 
)The palace full of tongues, of eyes, and ears: 

1 Worn, pronounce u a dinyllable. 

s Vulean'9 badge -tiie cuckold's horni. 

* ITind- nature. *■ Sacred, i.e. cursed: Lat $aeer. 

270 



The woods are ruthless, dreadful, deaf, and 

dull; 
There speak, and strike, brave boys, and take 

your turns; 
There serve your lust, shadow'd from heaven's 



eye. 



130 



And revel in Lavinia's treasurv. 

ChL Thy counsel, lad, smells of no cowardice. 

Dem. Sit fas aut nefas^ till I find the stream 
To cool this heat, a charm to calm these fits. 
Per Styga^ per manes vehor. [Exeunt. 

Scene II. A forest iiear Rome. Horns and 
cry of hounds heard. 

Enter Titus Andronicus, vnth Hunters^ o&c, 
Marcus, Lucius, Quintus, and MArtius, 

Tit. Tlie hunt is up, the mom is bright and 

gray. 
The fields are fragrant, and the woods are green : 

Uncouple here, and let us make a l>ay,^ 

And wake the emperor and his lovely bride, 

And rouse the prince, and ring a hunter's peal, 

That all the court may echo with the noise. 

Sons, let it be your charge, as it is ours, 

T* attend the emperor's person carefully : 

I have been troubled in my sleep this night. 

But dawning day new comfort hath inspir'd. 

Horns wind a peal. Enter Saturninus, Tamora, 
Bassianus, Lavinia, Demetrius, Chiron, 
and Attendants. 

Many good morrows to your majesty; — 11 
Madam, to you as many and as good: — 
I promised your grace a hunter's peaL 

Sat. And you have rung'' it lustily, my lord; 
Somewhat too early for new-married ladies. 

Bas. Lavinia, how say you ? 

Lav. I say, no; 

I have been broad awake two hours and more. 

Sat. Come on, then; horse and cliariots let 
us have,' 
And to our sport. — [To Tamorai] Madam, now 
shall ye see 19 

Our Roman hunting. 

Marc. I have dogs, my lord, 

Will rouse the proudest panther in the chase, 
And climb the highest promontory top. 

* Sit fat, &c. ; be It right or wrong. 

^ ^ay= barking. ' Rung, Le. on the horn. 



ACT 11. Scene 3. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT II. Scene S. 



Tit. And I have horse will follow where 
^ the game 

< Makes way, and run like swallows o'er the 
^ plain. 

Zkm. Chiron, we hunt not, we, with horse 
. nor hound, 
] But hope to pluck a dainty doe to ground. ] 

[Exeunt, 

ScENB III. A lonely part of the forest. 

Enter Aaron, with a bag of gold. 

Aar. He that had wit would think that I 
had none. 
To bury so much gold under a tree. 
And never after to inherit^ it. 
Let him that thinks of me so abjectly 
Know that this gold must coin a stratagem, 
Which, cunningly effected, will beget 
A very excellent piece of villany: 
And so repose, sweet gold, for their unrest 

[Hides the gold. 
That have their alms out of the empress' chest 

Enter Tamora. 

Tarn. My lovely Aaron, wherefore look'st 
thou sad, 10 

When everything doth make a gleeful l^oast? 
The birds chant melody on every bush; 
The snake lies rolled in the cheerful sun; 
The green leaves quiver with the cooling wind, 
And make a chequer'd shadow on the ground: 
Under their sweet shade, Aaron, let us sit, 
;|^And, whilst the babbling echo mocks the 
/ hounds, 

i Replying shrilly to the well-tun'd horns, 
^ As if a double hunt were heard at once, 
i Let UB sit down and mark their yelping noise; 
i And — after conflict such as was suppos'd 21 
.The wandering prince and Dido once enjo/d, 
/ When with a happy storm they were surpris'd, 
:; And curtain'd with a counsel-keeping cave — 
f We may, each wreathed in the other's arms, 
^Our pastimes done, possess a golden slumber; 

< Whiles hounds and horns and sweet melodi- 
? ous birds 

{ Be unto us as is a nurse's song 

^Of lullaby to bring her babe asleep.]] 

1 Inherit, to poiMt*. 



S0> 



I 



Aar. [Madam, though Venus govern your 5 

desires, 
Saturn^ is dominator over mine: 
What signifies my deadly-standing eye. 
My silence and my cloudy melancholy. 
My fleece of woolly hair tliat now uncurls 
Even as an adder when she doth unroll 
To do some fatal execution 1 
No, madam, these are no venereal signs: 
Vengeance is in my heart, death in my hand, ; 
Blood and revenge are hammering ^ in my? 

head.] i 

Hark, Tamora, — the empress of my soul, 40 
Which never hopes more heaven than rests in 

thee, — 
This is the day of doom for Bassiauus: 
t His Philomel must lose her tongue to-day; 
Thy sons make pillage of her chastity. 
And wash their hands in Bassianus' blood. ] 
Seest thou this letter? take it up, I pray thee, 
And give the king this fatal-plotted scroll — 
Now question me no more, — we are espied; 
Here comes a parcel of our hopeful booty, 
Which dreads not yet their lives' destruction. 
Tarn. Ah, my sweet Moor, sweeter to me 

than life! 51 

Aar. No more, gi*eat empress, — Bassianus 

comes: 
Be cross with him; and I 'U go fetch thy sons 
To back thy quarrels, whatsoe'er they be. 

[Ent. 

Enter Bassianus and Lavinia. 

Bos. Who have we here? Home's royal 
empress, 
Unfumish'd of her well-beseeming troop? 
Or is it Dian, habited like her. 
Who hath abandoned her holy groves 
To see the general hunting in this forest? 

Tarn. Saucy controller of our private steps! 
Had I the power tliat some say Dian had, 61 
Thy temples should be planted presently 
With horns, as was Acteeon's; and the hounds 
Should drive upon thy new-transformed limbs, 
Unmannerly intruder aa thou art! 

[ Lav. Under your patience, gentle empress, J 
T is thought you have a goodly gift in homing; 5 



s Saturn, a malignant planet. 
* Hammering, being plotted. 

271 



ACT II. Some 8. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT II. 



) And to be doubted that your Moor and you 
I- Are singled forth to try experiments: 
/Jove shield your husband from his hounds to- 
^ day! 7o 

{ T is pity they should take him for a stag. ]] 
I BcLS, [ Believe me, queen, your swarth^ Cim- 
? merian 
J Doth make your honour of his body's hue, 

< Spotted, detested, and abominable. ^ 

Why are you sequestered from all your train, 
Dismounted from your snow-white goodly 

steed, 
And wander'd hither to an dbscure plot, 
Accompanied but with a barbarous Moor, 
If foul desire had not conducted you? 
I [ Lav, And, being intercepted in your sport, 
^ Great reason that my noble lord be rated 81 

< For sauciness. — I pray you, let us hence, 
> And let her joy her raven-coloured love; 
/This valley fits the purpose passing welL 

! BasJ2 The king my brother shall have note 
of this. 
Lav. Ay, for these slips have made him 
noted long: 
Good king, to be so mightily abus'd! 

Tarn. Why have I patience to endure all 
this? 

Enter Demetrius and Chiron. 

Dem. How now, dear sovereign and our 

gracious mother! 
Why doth your highness look so pale and wan? 
Tarn. Have I not reason, think you, to look 

pale? 91 

These two have tic'd me hither to this place: — 
A barren^ detested vale you see it is; 
The trees, though summer, yet forlorn and 

lean. 
Overcome with moss and baleful mistletoe: 
Here never shines the sun ; here nothing breeds, 
Unless the nightly owl or fatal raven: — 
And when they show'd me this abhorred ])it. 
They told me, here, at dead time of the nighty 
A thousand fiends, a thousand hissing snakes. 
Ten thousand swelling toads, as many urchins,^ 
Would make such fearful and confused cries. 
As any mortal body hearing it los 

Should straight fall mad, or else die suddenly. 

1 Swarthy i,e. black. * Barren; a monosyllable. 

* Urehint, hedgehogs. 

272 



No sooner had they told this hellish ta 
But straight they told me they woul< 

me here 
Unto the body of a dismal yew, 
And leave me to this miserable death: 
[ And then they call'd me foul adulten 
Lascivious Groth, and all the bitterest t 
That ever ear did hear to such effect: ] 
And, had you not by wondrous fortune 
This vengeance on me had they execut 
Revenge it, as you love your mother's 
Or be not henceforth call'd my childrei 
Dem. This is a witness that I am th; 

[Stabs Bos 
Chi. And this for me, struck home t 
my strength. 

[.^1^0 stabs BasstanuSy wi 
Lav. Ay, come, Semiramis, — nay, bai 
Tamora, 
For no name fits thy nature but thy o\ 
Tarn. Give me thy poniard; — yoi 
know, my boys. 
Your mother's hand shall right your m 
wrong. 
^Dem. Stay, madam; here is more 1 
to her; 
First thresh the com, then after bum the 
This minion stood upon her chastity, 
Upon her nuptial vow, her loyalty, 
And with that painted* hoi)e she brav 

mightiness: 
And shall she carry this unto her grav 
Chi. An if she do, I would I were an ( 
Drag hence her husband to some secre 
And make his dead trunk pillow to ou 
Tarn. But when ye have the honey 
sire. 
Let not this wasp outlive, us both to 8 
Chi. I warrant you, madam, we wii 
that sure. — 
Come, mistress, now perforce we will < 
That nice-preserved honesty of youra. ' 
Lav. O Tamora! thou bear'st a 'w 

face, — 
Tarn. I will not hear her speak; awj 

her! 
Lav. Sweet lords, entreat her hear 
a word. 



« Children, a trisyllable. 



ft Painted, tpi 



ACT II. Scene 8. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT II. Scene 8. 



Dent, Listen, fair madam : let it be your glory 
To see her tears; but be your heart to them 
As unrelenting flint to drops of rain. I4i 

Lav, When did the tiger's young ones teach 
the dam? 
0, do not learn her wrath, — she taught it thee; 
The milk thou suck'dst from her did turn to 

marble; 
Even at tliy teat thou hadst thy tyramiy. — 
Yet every mother breeds not sons alike: 
\To Chiron\ Do thou entreat her show a woman 
pity. 
Chu What, wouldst thou have me prove 

myself a bastard ? 
Lav, T is true, — the raven doth not hatch 
a lark: 
Yet have I heard, — O could I find it now! — 
The lion, mov'd with pity, did endure 151 
To have his princely paws par'd all away: 
Some say that ravens foster forlorn children, 
The whilst their own birds famish^ in their 

nests: 
O, be to me, though thy hard heart say no, 
Nothing 80 kind, but something pitiful! 
Tarn. I know not what it means. — Away 

with her I 
Lav. O, let me teach thee! for my father's 
sake. 
That gave thee life, when well he might have 

slain thee. 
Be not obdurate, open thy deaf ears. i«io 

Tarn, Hadst thou in person ne'er offended 
me, 
Even for his sake am I pitiless. — 
^[Remember, boys, I pour'd forth tears in vain 
J To save your brother from the sacrifice; 
rBut fierce Andronicus would not relent: 
', Therefore, away with her, use her as you will; 
; The worse to her, the better lov'd of me. 
^ Lav, O Tamora, be call'd a gentle queen, 
! And with thine own hands kill me in this 

place! 
■ For 'tis not life that I have begg'd so long; 
' Poor I was slain when Bassianus died. in 
Tarn. What begg'st thou, then? fond wo- 
man, let me go. 
' Lav, Tis present death I beg; and one 
( thing more 



1 Famish, starve. 



VOL. VII. 



That womanhood denies my tongue to tell: 
O, keep me from their worse than killing lust, 
And tumble me into some loathsome pit, > 
Where never man's eye may behold my 

body: 
Do this, and be a charitable murderer. 

Tarn, So should I rob my sweet sons of 
their fee: 
No, let them satisfy their lust on thee. iso 
Dem, Away! for thou hjist stay'd us herej 
too long. ^ 

Lav. No grace ? no womanhood? Ah, beastly \ 
creature ! 
The blot and enemy to our general name !' 
Confusion fall — 

Chi. Nay, then I '11 stop your mouth. — Bring 
thou her husband: 
This is the hole where Aaron bid us hide him.^ > 
[Demetrius throws the body of Bassianus 
into the pit; then exeunt Demetrius and 
Chiron, dragging off Lavinia, 
Tarn.. Farewell, my sons: see that you make 
her sure: — 
Ne'er let my heart know merry cheer indeed 
Till all th' Andronici be made away. 189 

[ Now will I hence to seek my lovely Moor, 
And let my spleenful sons this trull deflour.^ 

[Exit. 

Re-enter Aaron, with Quintus and Martius. 

A ar. Come on, my lords, the better foot before . 
Straight will I bring you to the loathsome pit 
Where I espied the panther fast asleep. 
Qtiin, My sight is very dull, whate'er it 

bodes. 
Mart, And mine, I pronlise you; were 't not 
for shame. 
Well could I leave our sport to sleep awhile. 

[Falls itUo the pit, 
Quin. What, art thou fall'n?— What subtle 
hole is this, 
Whose mouth is cover'd with rude-growing 

briers. 
Upon whose leaves are drops of new -shed 
blood 200 

As fresh as morning dew distill'd on flowers ? 
A very fatal place it seems to me. — 
Speak,brother, hast thou hurt thee with the fall ? 

s Otneral name, ue. to womanhood in generaL 

273 M* 



Mart. O brother, with the diBmairat object 

hurt £M 

That ever eye with Biglit made heart lament ! 

Aar. \_Ande\ Now will I fetch the king to 

find them here, 

That he thereby may give a likely guess 

How these were they that made away hia 

brother. [£ri(. 



TITUS ANDEONICUS. ACT ii. Be™ ». 

MarL Why do8t not comfort me, and help 



From thia uuhallow'd and blood-stained hole? 

Quin. I am surprised witli an uncouth fear; 
A chilling sweat o'er-runs my trembling joints; 
My heart suepecta more than mine eye c&n see. 

Marl. To prove thou hast a true-divining 




Aaron and thou look down into this den, 
And see a fearful sight of blood and death. 
Quin. Aaron is gone; and my compassionate 

Will not permit mine eyes once to behold 
The thing whereat it trembles by surmise: 
O, tell me how it is; for ne'er till now 2M 
Was I a child to fear' I know not what. 

i/ar(. Loi-d Bassiauus lies enibrewed here. 
All on a heap, like to a slaughter'd lamb, 
lu thia detested, dark, blood-drinking pit 

Quill. If it be dark, liow dost thou know 
'tie he? 

Mart. Upon his bloody finger he doth wear 



A precious ring, that tightens all the hole, 
Which, like a taper in some monument, 
Doth shine upon the dead man's earthly eheeks, 
And shows the ragged entrails of the pit: v*> 
So pale did shine the moon on Fyramus 
When he by night lay bath'd in maiden blood. 

brother, help me with thy fainting hand — 
If fear hath maile thee faint, as me it bath- 
Out of this fell-devouring receptacle. 

As hateful as Cocytus' misty mouth. 

QtiLn. Beach me thy hand, that I may help 
thee out; 
Or, wanting strength to do thee so much good, 

1 may be pluck'd tato the swallowing womb 
Of this deep pit, poor BassiDnus' grax'e. Jto 
I have no strength to pluck thee to the brink. 



ACT II. Soeii« 8. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT II. 8oen« 4. 



Mart, Nor I no strength to climb without 
thy help. 242 

QV;in, Thy hand once more; I will not loose 
again, 
Till thou art here aloft, or I below: 
Thou canst not come to me, — I come to thee. 

[FaUs in. 

Enter Saturninus with Aaron. 

Sat. Along with me: I'll see what hole is 
here, 
And what he is that now is leap'd into it. — 
Say, who art thou that lately didst descend 
Into this gaping hollow of the earth \ 

Mart. Th! unhappy son of old Aiidronicus; 
Brought hither in a most unlucky hour, 261 
To find thy brother Bassianus dead. 

Sai. My brother dead! I know thou dost 
but jest: 
He and his lady both are at the hxige 
Upon the north side of this pleasant chase; 
Tis not an hour since I left him there. 

Mart. We know not where you left him all 
alive; 
But, out, alas! here have we found him dead. 

Re-enter Tamora, mth Attendants; Titus 
Andronicus, and Lucius. 

Tanu Where is my lord the king? 
Sat. Here, Tamora; though grieved with 
killing grief. 260 

Tarn. Where is thy brother Bassianus? 
Sat. Now to the bottom dost thou search 
my wound: 
Poor Bassianus here lies murdered. 

Tarn. Then all too late I bring this fatal writ, 
[Giving a letter to Saturninus. 
The complot of this timeless* tragedy; 
And wonder greatly that man's face can fold 
In pleasing smiles such murderous tyranny. 

Sat. [ReacUi] ** An if wo miss to meet him hand- 
somely, — 
Sweet huntsman, Bassianus 't is we mean, — 
Do thou so much as dig the gmve for bim: 270 

Thou know'st our meaning. Look for thy reward 
Among the nettles at the elder-tree 
Which ovenshadw the mouth of that same pit 
Where we decreed to bury Bassianus. 
Do this, and purchase us thy lasting friends." — 

1 TimeUMs, untimely. 



Tamora! was ever heard the like? — 
This is the pit, and this the elder-tree. — 
Look, sirs, if you can find the huntsman out 
That should have murder'd Bassianus here. 

A ar. My gracious lord, here is the bag of gold. 

[Shoicing it. 
Sat. [To Titus] Two of thy whelps, fell curs 
of bloody kind, ijsi 

Have here bereft my brother of his life.— 
Sirs, drag them from the pit unto the prison: 
There let them bide until we have devia'd 
Some never-heard-of torturing pain for them. 
Tarn. What, are they in this pit? O won- 
drous thing! 
How easilv murder is discovered! 

Tit. High emi>eror, upon my feeble knee 

1 beg this boon, with tears not lightly shed. 
That this fell fault of my accursed sons,- 290 
Accursed, if the fault be proved in them, — 

Sat. If it be proved! you see it is apparent — 
Who found this letter? Tamora, was it you? 
Tarn, Androuicus himself did take it up. 
Tit. I did, my lord: yet let me be their bail; 
For, by my father's reverent tomb, I vow 
They shall be ready at your highness' will 
To answer their suspicion with their lives. 
Sat. Thou shalt not bail them: see thou 
follow me.- 
Some bring the murder'd body, some the mur- 
derers: soo 
Let them not speak a word, — the guilt is plain; 
For, by my soul, were there worse end than 

death. 
That end upon them should be executed. 

Tarn. Andronicus, I will entreat the king: 
Fear not thy sons; they shall do well enough. 
Tit. Come, Lucius, come; stay not to talk 
with them. 

[£ji:eunt Saturninus, Tamora, Aaron, 
and Attendants, with Quintus, Mar- 
tins, and the bodf/ of Bassianus; then 
Andro^iicusand Lucius. 

[Scene IV. Another part of the forest. ? 

Enter Demetrius and Chiron, v*ith Lavinia,; 
ravished; her hands cut off, and her tongue ] 
cut out. \ 



Dem. So, now go tell, an if thy tongue can ; 
speak, { 

275 



ACT II. Scene 4. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT IIL Soene 1. 



;Wlio 'twas that cut^ thy tougue aud ravish'd 

thee. 
Chi, Write down thy mind, bewray thy 

meaning so, 
; An if thy stumps will let thee play the scribe. 
Dem. See, how with signs and tokens she 

can scrowl. 
Chi, Go home, call for sweet water, wash 

thy hands. 
Dem. She hath no tongue to call, nor hands 

to wash; 
! And so let 's leave her to her silent walks. 
Chi. An 't were my case, I should go hang 

myself. 
Dem. If thou hadst hands to help thee knit 

the cord. [Exeunt Demetrius and Chiron. 

Enter MARCua 

Mar. Who's this, — my niece, — that flies 
away so fast ? — ii 

^Cousin, a word; where is your husband? — 
If I do dream, would all my wealth would 

wake me! 

If I do wake, some planet strike me down, 
•That I may slumber in eternal sleep! — 
Speak, gentle niece, — what stem ungentle 

hands 

^ Have lopp'd and hew'd and made thy body bare 
< Of her two branches, — those sweet ornaments, 
^ Whose circling shadows kings have sought to 

sleep in, 

I And might not gain so great a happiness 20 
/ As have thy love? Why dost not speak tome? — 
(Alas, a crimson river of warm blood, 
^Like to a bubbling fountain stirr'd with wind, 
;I>oth rise and fall between thy rosed lips, 
|Ck>ming and going with thy honey breath. 



But, sure, some Tereus hath defloured thee, / 
And, lest thou shouldst detect him, cut thy> 
tongue. / 

Ah, now thou tum*st away thy face for shame ! / 
And, notwithstanding all this loss of blood, — \ 
As from a conduit with three issuing spouts, — > 
Yet -do thy cheeks look red as Titan's face ) 
Blushing to be encounter'd with a cloud. 32 ; 
Shall I speak for thee? shall I say 't is so? ■ 
that I knew thy heart! and knew the beast, ■ 
That I might rail at him, to ease my mind! 
Sorrow concealed, like an oven stopp'd, (• 

Doth burn the heart to cinders where it is. 
Fair Philomela, she but lost her tongue, ) 

And in a tedious sampler sew^d her mind: '- 
But, lovely niece, that mean is cut from thee; 
A craftier Tereus, cousin, hast thou met, 41 
And he hath cut those pretty fingers off, \ 

That could have better sew'd than Philomel. '( 
O, had the monster seen those lily hands ^ 
Tremble, like aspen-leaves, upon a lute, <^ 

And make the silken strings delight to kiss! 



them. 



I 



He would not, then, have touch 'd them for h\&< 

life! 
Or, had he heard the heavenly harmony 
Which that sweet tongue hath made, \ 

He would have dropp'd his knife, and fell asleep ; 
As Cerberus at the Thracian poet's feet 51 \ 
Come, let us go, and make thy father blind ; \ 
For such a sight will blind a father's eye: \ 
One hour'sstorm will drown the fragrant meads ; ] 
What will whole months of tears thy father's ] 

eyes? 
Do not draw back, for we will mourn with thee : \ 
O could our mourning ease thy misery! \ 

[Exeunt. J) 



ACT III. 



Scene I. Rome. A street. 



Enter Senators^ Tribunes^atid Officers of Justice, 
with Martius and Quintus, hound, pass- 
ing on to tlie place of execution; Titus 
going before, pleading. 

Tit. Hear me, grave fathers! noble tribunes, 
stay! 

1 Cut, i,e. cut out 
276 



For pity of mine age, whose youth was spent 
In dangerous wars, whilst you securely slept; 
For all my blood in Rome's great quarrel she<l; 
For all the frosty nights that I have watch'd; 
And for these bitter tears, which now you see 
Filling the aged wrinkles in my cheeks; 
Be pitiful to my condemned sons. 
Whose souls are not corrupted as 't is thought 
For two-and-twenty sons I never wept, 10 



ACT III. Scene 1. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT III. Scene 1. 



Because they died in honour^s lofty bed. ii 

For these, these, tribunes, in the dust I write 

[Throwing himself on the ground. 

My heart's deep languor and my soul's sad 

tears: 
Let my tears stanch the earth's dry appetites; 
My sons' sweet blood will make it shame and 

blush. 

[Exeunt Senators, Tribunes, <tc, with the 
Prisoners. 
O earth, I will befriend thee more with rain. 
That shall distil from these two ancient urns, 
Thau youthful April shall with all his showers: 
In summer's drought I'll drop upon thee still; 
In winter with warm tears I '11 melt the snow, 
And keep eternal spring-time on thy face. 
So thou refuse to drink my dear sons' blood. 

EtUer Lucius, vrith his sword drawn. 

O reverend tribunes! O gentle, aged men! 
Unbind my sons, reverse the doom of death; 
And let me say, that never wept before. 
My tears are now prevailing orators. 

Luc. O noble father, you lament in vain: 
The tribunes hear you not; no man is by; 
And you recount your sorrows to a stone. 

Tit. Ah, Lucius, for thy brothers let me 

plead. — 30 

Grave tribunes, once more I entreat of you, — 

Luc. My gracious lord, no tribune hears you 
speak. 

Tit. Why, 'tis no matter, man: if they did 
hear, 
They would not mark me; or if they did mark. 
They would not pity me. Yet plead I must: 
And bootless unto them since I complain. 
Therefore I tell my sorrows to the stones; 
Who, though they cannot answer my distress, 
Yet in some sort they 're better than the tri- 
bunes. 
For that they will not intercept my tale: 40 
When I do weep, they humbly at my feet 
Receive my tears, and seem to weep with me; 
And, were they but attired in grave weeds, 
Rome could afford no tribune like to these. 
A stone is soft as wax, — tribunes more hard 

than stones; 
A stone is silent, and offendeth not, — 
Ajid tribunes with their tongues doom men 
to death. — [Rises. 



But wherefore stand'st thou with thy weapon 

drawn? 
Luc. To rescue my two brothers from their 

death: 
For which attempt the judges have pronounc'd 
My everlasting doom of banishment. 5i 

Tit. O happy man! they have befriended thee. 
Why, foolish Lucius, dost thou not ]:)erceive 
That Rome is but a wilderness of tigers? 
Tigers must prey ; and Rome affords no prey 
But me and mine: how happy art thou, then, 
From these devourers to be banished! — 
But who comes with our brother Marcus here? 

Enter Marcus and Lavinia. 

Marc. Titus, prepare thy aged eyes to weep; 
Or, if not so, thy noble heart to break: eo 
I bring consuming sorrow to thine age. 

Tit. Will it consume me? let me see it, then. 

Marc. This was thy daughter. 

Tit. Why, Marcus, so she is. 

Luc. Ay me, this object kills me! 

Tit. Faint-hearted boy, arise, and look 
upon her. — 
Speak, my Lavinia, what accursed hand 
Hath made thee hanilless in thy father's sight? 
What fool hath added water to the sea, 68 
Or brought a fagot to bright-burning Troy ? 
My grief was at the height before thou cam'st; 
And now, like Nilus, it disdaineth bounds. — 
Give me a sword, I '11 chop off my hands too; 
For they have fought for Rome, and all in vain ; 
And they have nurs'd this woe, in feeding life; 
In bootless prayer have they been held up. 
And they have serv'd me to effectless use: 
Now all the service I require of them 
Is, that the one will help to cut the other. — 
'T is well, Lavinia, tliat thou hast no hands; 
For hands, to do Rome service, are but vain. 

Luc. Speak, gentle sister, who hath mar- 
tyr'd thee? 81 

Marc. O, that delightful engine of her 
thoughts. 
That blabb'd them with such pleasing elo- 
quence. 
Is torn from forth that pretty hollow cage, 
Where, like a sweet melodious bird, it sung 
Sweet- varied notes, enchanting ever}' ear! 

Luc. O, say thou for her, who hath done 
this deed ? 

277 



ACT IIL Scene 1. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT in. ScMM L 



Marc, O, thus I found her, straying in the 

park. 
Seeking to hide herself, sua doth the deer 89 
That hath received some unrecuring* wound. 
TU, It was my deer; and he that wounded 

her 
Hath hurt me more than had he kill'd me 

dead: 
For now I stand as one upon a rock, 
Environed with a wilderness of sea; 
Who marks the waxing tide grow wave by 

wave, 
Expecting ever when some envious surge 
Will in his brinish bowels swallow him. 
This way to death my wretched sons are gone; 
Here stands my other son, a banish'd man; 
And here my brother, weeping at my woes: 
But that which gives my soul the greatest 

spurn, 101 

Is dear Lavinia, dearer than my souL — 
Had I but seen thy picture in this plight. 
It would have madded me: what shall I do 
Now I behold thy lively body so ? 
Thou hast no hands to wipe away thy tears; 
Nor tongue to tell me who hath martyr'd thee: 
Thy husband he is dead; and for his death 
Thy brothers are coudemn'd, and dead by 

this. 2— 109 

Look, Marcus! ah, son Lucius, look on her! 
When I did name her brothers, then fresh tears 
Stood on her cheeks, as doth the honey-dew 
Upon a gathered lily almost wither'd. 
Marc, Perchance she weeps because they 

kill'd her husband ; 
Perchance because she knows them innocent. 
Tit, If they did kill thy husband, then be 

joyful, 
Because the law hath ta'en revenge on thenL — 
No, no, they would not do so foul a deed; 
Witness the sorrow that their sister makes. — 
Grentle Lavinia, let me kiss thy lips; 120 

Or make some sign how I may do thee ease: 
Shall thy good uncle, and thy brother Lucius, 
And thou, and I, sit round about some foun- 
tain. 
Looking all downwards, to behold our cheeks 
How they are stain 'd, as meadows, yet not dry, 
With miry slime left on them by a flood? 



1 Unrecuring, incurable. s By this =by tliii time. 

278 



And in the fountain shall we gaze so long 
Till the fresh taste be taken from that clear- 
ness. 
And made a brine-pit with our bitter tears? 
Or shall we cut away our hands, like thine! 
Or shall we bite our tongues, and in dumb- 
shows isi 
Pass the remainder of our hateful days? 
What shall we do ? let us, that have our tongues, 
Plot some device of further misery. 
To make us wonder'd at in time to come. 
Luc, Sweet father, cease your tears; for, at 
your grief, 
See how my wretched sister sobs and weeps. 
Marc, Patience, dear niece. — Grood Titus, 

dry thine eyes. 
Tit, Ah, Marcus, Marcus ! brother, well I 
wot 
Thy napkin' cannot drink a tear of mine. 
For thou, poor man, hast drown'd it with 
thine own. ui 

Luc, Ah, my Lavinia, I will wipe thy cheeks. 
Tit, Mark, Marcus, mark! I understand 
her signs: 
Had she a tongue to speak, now would she say 
That to her brother which I said to thee: 
His napkin, with his true tears all bewet. 
Can do no service on her sorrowful cheeka 
O, what a sympathy of woe is this, — 
As far from help as Limbo is from bliss! 

Enter Aaron. 

Aar. Titus Andronicus, my lord the emperor 
Sends thee this word, — that, if thou love th^r 

sons, 15L 

Let Marcus, Lucius, or thyself, old Titus, 
Or any one of you, chop off your hand, 
And send it to the king: he for the same 
Will send thee hither both thy sons alive; 
And that shall be the ransom for their fault 

Tit, O gracious emperor! O gentle Aaron! 
Did ever raven sing so like a lark, 
That gives sweet tidings of the sun's uprise? 
With all my heart, I '11 send the emperor itf^ 
My hand : 
Good Aaron, wilt thou help to chop it off? 

Luc, Stay, father! for that noble hand of 
thine, 

s yapkiot handkerchief. 



ACT III. Soone 1. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT III. Boene 1. 



That hath thrown down so many enemies, 
Shall not be sent: mjhand will serve the turn: 
My youth can better spare my blood than you : 
And therefore mine shall save my brothers* 
liye& 
Marc. Which of your hands hath not de- 
fended Rome^ 
And rear'd aloft the bloody battle-axe, IM 
Writing destruction on the enemy's castle?^ 
0, none of both but are of high desert: 
My hand hath Ix^en but idle; let it serve 
To ransom my two nephews from their death; 
Then have I kept it to a worthy end. 
Aar, Nay, come, agree whose hand shall go 
along, 
For fear they die before their pardon come. 
Marc My hand shall go. 
Luc. By heaven, it sliall not go! 

TU. Sirs, strive no more: such wither'd 
herbs as these 
Are meet for plucking up, and therefore mine. 
Luc. Sweet father, if I shall be thought 
thy son, 180 

Let me redeem my bix)ther8 both from death. 
Marc. And, for our father's sake and 
mothei-'s care. 
Now let me show a brother's love to thee. 
TU. Agree between you; I will spare my 

hand. 
Luc. Then I '11 go fetch an axe. 
Marc. But I will use the axe. 

\EjceuiU Lucius and Marcus. 
Tit. Come hither, Aaron; I'll deceive them 
both: 
Lend me thy hand, and I will give thee mine. 
Aar. [Aside] If that be call'd deceit, I will 
be honest, 
And never, whilst I live, deceive men so: 190 
But I '11 deceive you in another sort, 
And that you '11 say, ere half an hour pass. 

[Cuts off Titus's hand. 

Re-enter Lucius and Marcus. 

Tit. Now stay your strife: what shall be is 
dispatch 'd. — 
Good Aaron, give his majesty my hand: 
Tell him it was a hand that warded him 
From thousand dangers; bid him bury it; 

1 OuiU, helmet. 



More hath it merited, — that let it have. 
As for my sons, say I account of them 
As jewels purchas'd at an easy price; 190 

And yet dear too, because I bought mine own. 

Aar. I go, Andronicus: and for thy hand 
Look by and by to have thy sons with thee: — 
[A side] Their heads, I mean. O, how this villany 
Doth fat me with the very thoughts of it I 
Let fools do good, and fair men call for grace, 
Aaron will have his soul black like his face. 

[Exit. 
Tit. O, here I lift this one hand up to heaven, 
And bow this feeble ruin to the earth: 
If any power pities wretched tears. 
To that I call:— [Tb Lairinia] What, wilt thou 

kneel with me? 210 

Do, then, dear heart; for heaven shall hear 

our prayers; 
Or with oiu* sighs we '11 breathe the welkin dim. 
And stain the sun with fog, as sometime clouds 
When they do hug him in their melting bosoms. 

Marc. O brother, speak with possibility,* 
And do not break into these deep extremes. 
Tit. Are not my sorrows deep, having no 

bottom ? 

Then be my pjissions bottomless with them. 

Marc. But yet let reason govern thy lament. 

Tit. If there were reason for these miseries. 

Then into limits could I bind my woes: 221 

When heaven doth weep, doth not the earth 

o'erflow ? 
If the winds rage, doth not the sea wax mad, 
Threatening the welkin with his big-swoln 

face? 
And wilt thou have a reason for this coil? 
I am the sea; hark, how her sighs do blow! 
She is the weeping welkin, I the earth: 
[ Then must my sea be moved with her sighs; f 
Then must my earth with her continual tears ^ 
Become a deluge, overflow'd and drown'd: 230 j 
For why my bowels cannot hide her woes, ^ 
But like a drunkard must I vomit them. ^ 
Then give me leave; for losers will have leave J 
To ease their stomachs with their bitter |J 

tongues. ] ;; 

Enter a Messenger^ \cith two heads and a hand. 
Mess. Worthy Andronicus, ill art thou repaid 

s Withpo$9ibUity=n9Mm%\i\y. 
279 



ACT III. Soene 1. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT III. Soene 1 



For that good hand thou sent'st the emperor. 
Here are the heads of thy two noble sons; 
And here's thy hand, in scorn to thee sent 

back,— 
Thy griefs their sport, thy resolution mock'd ; 
That woe is me to think upon thy woes 240 
More than remembrance of my father's death. 

Marc, Now let hot ^^tna cool in Sicily, 
And be my heart an ever-burning hell! 
Those miseries are more than may be borne. 
To weep with them that weep doth ease some 

deal; 
But sorrow flouted-at^ is double death. 

Ltu;, Ah, that this sight should make so 
deep a wound. 
And yet detested life not shrink thereat! 
That ever death should let life bear his name. 
Where life hath no more interest but to breathe ! 

[Lavinia kisses Titus. 

Marc. Alas, poor heart, that kiss is comfortless 
As frozen water to a starved snake. 252 

Tit. When will this fearful slumber have 
an end? 

Marc. Now, farewell, flattery: die, An- 
dronicus; 
Thou dost not slumber: see, thy two sons' heads, 
Thy warlike hand, thy mangled daughter here; 
Thy other banish'd son, with this dear sight 
Struck pale and bloodless; and thy brother, I, 
Even like a stony image, cold and numb. 
Ah, now no more will I control thy griefs: 
Keud off thy silver hair, thy other hand 261 
Gnawing with tliy teeth; and be this dismal 

sight 
The closing up of our most wretched eyes: 
Now is a time to storm; why art thou still? 

Tit. Ha, ha, ha! 

Marc. Why dost thou laugh? it fits not 
with this hour. 

Tit. Why, I have not another tear to shed: 
Besides, this sorrow is an enemy. 
And would usurp upon my watery eyes, 269 
And make them blind with tributary tears: 
Then which way shall I find Revenge's cave? 
For these two heads do seem to speak to me, 
And threat me I shall never come to bliss 
Till all these mischiefs be retum'd again 

1 FUntUd'at=jeeni\ at 
280 



Even in their throats that have committed them. 
Come, let me see what task I have to do. — 
You heavy* people, circle me about, 
That I may turn me to each one of you. 
And swear unto my soul to right your 

wrongs. — 
The vow is made. — Come, brother, take a head; 
And in this hand the other will I bear. — 28i 
Lavinia, thou shalt be employed in these things; 
Bear thou my hand, sweet wench, between 

thy teeth. 
As for thee, boy, go get thee from my sight; 
Thou art an exile, and thou must not stay: 
Hie to the Goths, and raise an army there: 
And, if you love me, as I think you do, 
Let 's kiss and part, for we have much to do. 
[Exeunt Titus, Marcus, and Lavinia. 
Lwc. Farewell, Andronicus, my noble fa- 
ther, — 2S9 
The wofull'st man that ever liVd in Rome: 
Farewell, proud Rome; till Lucius come again, 
He leaves his pledges dearer than his life: 
Farewell, Lavinia, my noble sister; 
O, would thou wert as thou tofore hast been! 
But now nor Lucius nor Lavinia lives 
But in oblivion and hateful griefs. 
If Lucius live, he will requite your wrongs; 
And make proud Saturnine and his empress 
Beg at the gates, like Tarquin and his queen. 
Now will I to the Groths, and raise a power, 
To be reveng'd on Rome and Saturnine. \Exit. 

Scene II. A room in Titu^s hou^e. A banquet 

set out. 

Enter Titus, Marcus, Lavinia, and Young 

Lucius. 

Tit. So, so; now sit: and look you eat no more 
Than will preserve just so much strength in ua 
As will revenge these bitter woes of ours. 
Marcus, unknit that sorrow- wreathen knot: 
Thy niece and I, poor creatures, want our 

hands. 
And cannot passionate our tenfold grief 
With folded arms. This poor right hand of mine 
Is left to tyrannize upon my breast; 
Who, when my heart, all mad with misery. 
Beats in this hollow prison of my flesh, 10 

s &eavy=iorrowfaL 



ACT III. Scene 2. 



TTTUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT III. Scene % 



Then thus 1 thump it down. — ii 

[ To Lainnia] Thou map of woe, that thus dost 

talk in signs! 
When thy poor heart beats with outrageous 

beating, 
Thou canst not strike it thus to make it still 
Wound it with sighing, girl, kill it with groans; 
Or get some little knife between thy teeth, 
And just against thy heart make thou a hole; 
That all the tears that thy poor eyes let fall 
May run into that sink, and, soaking in, 
Drown the lamenting fool in sea-salt tears. 
Jfarc, Fie, brother, lie! teach her not thus 

to lay 21 

Such violent hands upon her tender life. 
Tit. How now! has sorrow made thee dote 

already? 
Why, Marcus, no man should be mad but I. 
What violent hands can she lay on her life? 
Ah, wherefore dost thou urge the name of 

hands;— 
To bid j£neas tell the tale twice o'er, 
How Troy was burnt, and he made miserable? 
O, han<ile not the theme, to talk of hands, 29 
Lest we remember still that we have none. — 
Fie, iie, how franticly I square my talk, — 
As if we should forget we had no hands. 
If Marcus did not name the word of hands! — 
Come, let 's fall to; and, gentle girl, eat this: — 
Here is no drink! — Hark, Marcus, what she 

says;— 
I can interpret all her martyr'd signs; — 
She says she drinks no other drink but tears, 
BreVd with her sorrow, mesh'd^ upon her 

cheeks: — 
Speechless complainer, I will learn thy thought ; 
In thy dumb action will I be as perfect 40 
As begging hermits in their holy prayers: 
Thou shalt not sigh, nor hold thy stumps to 

heaven, 
Nor wink, nor nod, nor kneel, nor make a sign. 
But I of these will wrest an alphabet. 
And by still' practice learn to know thy mean- 
ing. 
Young Luc, Good grandsire, leave these 

bitter deep laments: 
Make my aunt merry with some pleasing tale. 

> Metk'd, te. mashed, as though the tears and sorrow 
were mixed together, like malt and water. 

> Stm, consUnt 



Marc. Alas, the tender boy, in passion mov'd^ 
Doth weep to see his grandsire's heaviness. 
Tit. Peace, tender sapling; thou art made 
of tears, so 

And tears will quickly melt thy life away. — 
[Marcus strikes the dish with a knife. 
What dost thou strike at, Marcus, with thy 
knife ? 
Marc. At that that I have kill'd, my lord, — 

a fly. 
Tit. Out on thee, murderer! thou kilFst my 
heart; 
Mine eyes are cloy'd with view of tyranny: 
A deed of death done on the innocent 
Becomes not Titus' brother: get thee gone; 
I see thou art not for* my company. 
Marc. Alas, my lord. I have but kill'd a fly. 
Tit, But how, if that fly had a father and 
mother? 60 

How would he hang his slender gildeil wings, 
And buzz lamenting doings in the air! 
Poor harmless fly, 

That, with his pretty buzzing melody, 
Came here to make us merry; and thou hast 
kUl'd him. 
Marc. Pardon me, sir; it was a black ill- 
favour'd fly, 
Like tothe empress' Moor; thereforel kill'd him. 

Tit. O, O, O, 
Then pardon me for reprehending thee. 
For thou hast done a charitable deed. 70 

Give me thy knife, I will insult on him; 
Flattering myself, as if it were the Moor 
Come hither purposely to jwison me. — 
There 's for thyself, and that 's for Tamora. — 
Ah, sirrah! 

Yet, I think, we are not brought so low 
But that between us we can kill a fly 
That comes in likeness of a coal-black Moor. 
Marc. Alas, poor man! grief has so wrought 
on him, 70 

He takes faJse shadows for true substances. 

Tit. Come, take away. — Lavinia,gowithme: 
I '11 to thy closet; and go read with thee 
Sad stories chanced in the times of old. — 
Come, boy, and go with me: thy sight is young, 
And thou shalt read when mine begin to 
dazzle. [Exeunt. 

* For = tit tor. 
281 



ACT IV. Boene 1. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT lY. Boene L. 



ACT IV. 



Scene I. Rome. The garden of Titus^B 

house. 

Enter Titus and Marcus. Then enter Young 
Lucius, running^ with hooks under his army 
which he lets faU^ and Lavinia running 
after him. 

Young Luc, Help, grandsire, help! my aunt 

Lavinia 

Follows me every where, I know not why: — 

Good uncle Marcus, see how swift she comes. — 

Alas, sweet aunt, I know not what you mean. 

Marc, Stand by me, Lucius; do not fear 

thine aunt. 
TU, She loves thee, boy, too well to do thee 

harm. 
Young Luc, Ay, when my father was in 

Home she did. 
Marc. What means my niece Lavinia by 

these signs? 
Tit, Fear her not, Lucius: — somewhat doth 
she mean: — 9 

See, Lucius, see how much she makes of thee: 
Somewhither would she have thee go with her. 
Ah, boy, Cornelia never with more care 
Bead to her sons than she hath read to thee 
Sweet poetry and Tully's Orator. 
Marc. Canst thou not guess wherefore she 

plies thee thus? 
Young Lwc, My lord, I know not, I, nor can 
I guess. 
Unless some fit or frenzy do possess her: 
For I have heard my grandsire say full oft, 
Extremity of griefs would make men mad ; 
And I have read that Hecuba of Troy 20 

Ban mad through sorrow: that made me to 

fear; 
Although, my lord, I know my noble aunt 
Loves me as dear as e'er my mother did. 
And would not, but in fury, fright my youth: 
Which made me down to throw my books, and 

fly- 

Causeless,^ perhaps. — But pardon me, sweet 

aunt: 
And, madam, if my uncle Marcus go, 

1 CatuelesM, an adverb. 
282 



I will most willingly attend your ladyship. 
Marc. Lucius, I will 

[Lavinia turns over with her stumps the 
books which Lucius has let fall. 
Tit. How now, Lavinia! — Marcus, what 
means this? ao 

Some book there is that she desires to see. — 
Which is it, girl, of these ? — Open them, boy. — 
But thou art deeper read, and better skilled: 
Come, and take choice of all my library, 
And so beguile thy sorrow, till the heavens 
Beveal the damn'd contriver of this deed. — 
Why lifts she up her arms in sequence thus? 
Marc. I think she means that there was more 
than one 38 

Confederate in the fact; — ay, more there was; 
Or else to heaven she heaves them for revenge. 
Tit. Lucius, what book is that she tosseth so? 
Young Luc. Grandsire, 'tis Ovid's Metamor- 
phoses; 
My mother gave it me. 

Marc. For love of her that 's gone. 

Perhaps she cull'd it from among the rest 
Tit, Soft! see how busily she turns the leaves! 

[Helping her. 
What would she find? — Lavinia, shall 1 read? 
This is the tragic tale of Philomel, 
And treats of Tereus' treason and his rape; 
And rape, I fear, was root of thine annoy. 
Marc. See, brother, see; note how she quotes* 
the leaves. 50 

Tit. Lavinia, wertthou thussurpris'd, sweet 

girl, 
Bavish'd and wrong'd, as Philomela was, 
Forc'd inthe ruthless, vast,and gloomy woods? — 
See, see! — 

Ay, such a place there is, where we did hunt — 
O, had we never, never hunted there! — 
[ Pattem'd by that the poet here describes. 
By nature made for murders and for rapes. 3 ' 
Marc. O, why should nature build so foul a^ 
den, 
Unless tlie gods delight in tragedies? 00 

Tit. Give signs, sweet girl, — for here are none 
but friends, — 

'•> Quotet^ obtenres. 



TITUS ANDBONICUa 



What Bom&n lord it wu durat do the deed: 
XOrslnnk not Saturnine, as Tarquin erat, 
iThat left the camp to iin in Lucrece' bed?] 
Mare, Sit doirn, aweet niece:— brother, sit 
down by me. — 
Apollo, Pallae, Jove, or Mercury, 
Inspire me, that I may this treason find 1— 



My lord, look here:— look here, lAvinia: 
This sandy plot is plain; guide, if thou canst. 
This after me, when I have writ my name 
Without the help of any hand at all n • 

[He tcritet his name with hit itaf, and 
guide$ it with hit feet and mouth. 
Curs'dbethatheartthatforc'duatnthiBHhiftl — 




Writ« thou, good niece ; and here display, at k«t, 
What God will have diacover'd for revenge: 
Heaven guide thy pen to print tliy Horrows 

That we may know the traitorsatid the truth! 

[She talt» the ttof in tier mmdh, and 

guidet it with her stampi, and writes. 

Tit. 0, do ye read, my lord, wliat she bath 

" Stuprum^ — Chiron — Demetrius." 

Mart:. What, what '. — the lustful sons oi Tamora 
FerformeTH of this heinous, bloody deed ) so 

TVt. Magni dominator poli. 
Tarn letiiua audit tcderaf lam fentat pidett' 

' Sturrvrn'-iiolMaim. 

■ ij. lord ol gmt hurtu. tn yau to tloir to hew, » 



Marc. 0,calm thee,geutle lord ; although I know 
There is enough written upon this earth 
To stir a mutiny in the mildest thoughts. 
And arm the minds of infants to exclaims. 
My lord, kneel down with me; I^viuio, kneel; 
And kneel,Bweet boy, the Roman Hector's hope ; 
Aud swear with me, — as, with the woful fere* 
Aiid father of tliat chaste diahouour'd dame, 
Lord Junius Brutus sware for Lucrece' rape, — 
Tliat we will prosecut*, by good advice, as 
Mortal revenge upou these traitorous Ooths, 
And see their blood, or die with this reproach. 
[ Tit. T is sure enough, an you knew how. [ 
But if you huntthesebear-whelpe, then beware:^ 
The dam will wake; and, if she wind you once,^ 

■ fera-ipouM. mat*; th«baib*nd being ColUktlDiu. 



ACT IV. Soen« 1. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT IV. Boom S. 



She 's with the lion deeply still in league, 
And lulls him whilst she playeth on her back, 
I And when he sleeps will she do what she list. 
\ You 're a young huntsman, Marcus ; let 't alone ; 
And, come, I will go get a leaf of brass, 102 
And with a gad of steeH will write these words, 
And lay it by: the angry northern wind 
Will blowthese sands,like Sibyl's leaves,abroad, 
;And where 's your lesson, then? — Boy, what 
say you? 
Young Luc,l say, my lord, that if I were a man, 
\ Their mother's bed-chamber should not be safe 
; For these bad bondmen to the yoke of Home. 
Marc, Ay, that 's my boy I thy father hath 
full oft no 

For his ungrateful country done the like. 
Young Luc, And, uncle, so will I, an if I live.] 
Tit, Come, go with me into mine armory; 
Lucius, I'll fit thee; and withal, my boy, 
Slialt carry from me to the empress' sons 
Presents that I intend to send them both: 
Come, come; thou 'It do thy message, wilt thou 
not? 
Young Luc, Ay, with my dagger in their 

bosoms, grandsire. 
Tit. No, boy, not so; I '11 teach thee another 
course. — 119 

Lavinia, come.— Marcus, look to my house: 
Lucius and I '11 go brave it at the court; 
Ay, marry, will we, sir; and we '11 be waited on. 
[Exeunt Titus, Lavinia, and Young Lucius. 
Marc. O heavens, can you hear a good man 
groan, 
And not relent, or not compassion him? — 
Marcus, attend him in his ecstasy. 
That hath more scars of sorrow in his heart 
Than foemen's marks upon his batter'd shield; 
But yet so just that he will not revenge: — 
Revenge, ye heavens, for old Andronicus! [Krit. 

Scene II. The same. A room in the pcUace. 

Enter, from ons side, Aaron, Demetrius, and 
Chiron; from the other side. Young 
Lucius, a)id an Attendaiit, vnth a bundle 
of weapons, and verses writ upon t/iem. 

Chi. Demetrius, here's the son of Lucius; 
He hath some message to deliver us. 

1 Oizd 0/ tteel^ihe ttyltut used by the ancieute in writ- 
log on wax. 

284 



Aar. Ay, some mad message from his mad 

grandfather. 

Young Luc. My lords, with all the humble- 

ness I may, 

I greet your honours from Andronicus, — 

[Aside] And pray the Roman gods confound 

you both ! 

[ Bern. Gramercy, lovely Lucius: what 's the^ 

news ? } 

Young Luc. [Aside] That you are both J 

decipher'd,* that's the news, \ 

For villains mark'd with rape.] — May it please i 

you, 

My grandsire, well advis'd, hath sent by me 

The goodliest weapons of his armory 11 

To gratify your honourable youth. 

The hope of Rome; for so he bade me say; 

And so I do, and with his gifts present 

Your lordships, that, whenever you have need, 

You may be armed and appointed well : 

And so I leave you both, — [^«^] like bloody 

villains. 

[Exeunt Young Lucius and Attendant. 

Dem. What's here? A scroll; and written 

round about? 

Let's see: — 

[Reads] " Infeffer vilatj teelerisqitf purus, 20 

Non egei Mauri jiumlis, nee orcit."' 

Chi. O, 't is a verse in Horace; I know it well: 
I read it in the grammar long ago. 
Aar. Ay, just,* — a verse in Horace; — right^ 

you have it. — 
[Aside] Now, what a thing it is to be an ass! 
Here 's no sound jest ! th' old man hath found 

their guilt; 
And sends them weapons wrapp'd about with 

lines 
That wound, beyond their feeling, to the quick. 
But were our witty empress well a-foot. 
She would applaud Andronicus' conceit: w 
But let her rest in her unrest awhile. — 
And now, young lords, was 't not a happy star 
Led us to Rome, strangers, and more than so, 
Ca))tives, to be advanced to this height? 
It did me good, before the palace-gate 
To brave the tribune in his brother's hearing. 

3 Deeipher'd, i.e. discovered. 

s The man of stainleu life and free from sin needa not 
the darts or the bow of the Maurian. 
4«/twe=Justso. 



ACT IV. 8oen« 2. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT rV. Scene 2. 



Denu But me more good, to see so great a 
lord 
Basely insinuate and send us gifts. 
^ [ Aar. Had he not reason, Lord Demetrius ? 
J Did you not use his daughter very friendly ? 
\ Dem. I would we had a thousand Eoman 
^ dames 4i 

\ At such a bay, by turn to serve our lust. 

< Chi, A charitable wish and full of love. 

< Aar. Here lacks but your mother for to say 

amen. 
p' Chi, And that would she for twenty thou- 
;; sand more. 

< Dem, Come, let us go; and pray to all the 
\ gods 

; For our beloved mother in her pains. 

^f Actr, Pray to the devils ; the gotls have given 

} us over. ] [Flourish within, 

Dem, Why do the emperor's trumpets flourish 
thus? 49 

Chi, Belike for joy the emperor hath a son. 

Deni, Soft! who comes here? 

Eater a Nursey with a blackamoor Child 
in her arms, 

Nur, Good morrow, lords: 

O, tell me, did you see Aaron the Moor ? 

Aar. Well, more or less, or ne'er a whit at all. 
Here Aaron is; and what with Aaron now? 
Sar. O gentle Aaron, we are all undone I 
Now help, or woe betide thee evermore I 
Aar. Why, what a caterwauling dost thou 
keep! 
What dost thou wrap and fumble in thine arms? 
Sur. O, that which I would hide from 
heaven's eye, 
Our empress' shame and stately Rome's dis- 
grace! — «o 
She is delivered, lords, — she is deliver'd. 
S [ Aar. To whom? 

\ iVur, I mean, she 's brought a-bed. ] 

Aar. Well, God 

Give her good rest! What hath he sent her ? 

A^'ur. A devil 

Aar. Why, then she's the deviPs dam; a 

joyful issue. 
[ A\r. A joyless, dismal, black, and sorrowful 
i»ue: 

i Here is the babe, as loathsome aa a toa^l 
(Amongst the fairest breeders of our clime: 



The empress sends it thee, thy stamp, thy seal, 
And bids thee christen it with thy dagger's! 
point 70 ! 

Aar. Zounds, ye whore! is black so base a! 
hue? — 
Sweet blowse,^you are abeauteous blo8som,sure. 

Dem^ Villain, what hast thou done? 

Aar. That which thou canst not undo. 

CAt. Thou hast undone our mother. 

Aar. Villain, I have done thy mother. 

Dem. And therein, hellish dog, thou hast; 
undone her. 
Woe to her chance, and damn'd her loathed [ 

choice! 
Accurs'd the offspring of so foul a fiend! ] 

Chi, It shall not live. 80 

Aar. It shall not die. 

A^ur. Aaron, it must; the mother wills it so. 

Aar. What, must it, nurse? then let no man 
but I 
Do execution on my flesh and blood. 

Dem, I '11 broach* the tadpole on my rapier's 
point: — 
Nurse, give it me; my sword shall soon dis- 
patch it 

Aar. f Sooner this sword shall plough thy^ 
bowels up. ] \ 

[Tales the Child from the Nurse, arid draros. 
Stay, murderous villains ! will you kill your 

brother? 
[ Now, by the burning taj)er8 of the sky, J 
Thiit shone so brightly when this boy was got, ]i 
He dies upon my scimitar's sharp point 91 
That touches this my first-bom son and heir! 
I tell you, younglings, not Enceladus, 
With all his threatening bandof Typhon's brood, 
Nor great Alcides, nor the god of war. 
Shall seize this prey out of his father's hands. 
What, what, ye sanguine, shallow-heai'ted boys ! 
Ye white-lim'd walls ! ye alehouse painted signs! 
Coal-black is better than another hue. 
In that it scorns to lieax another hue; lOO 

For all the water in the ocean 
C^n never turn the swan's black legs to white. 
Although she lave them hourly in the flood. 
Tell the em press ^ from me, I am of age 
To keep mine own, — excuse it how she can. 

1 Btouwes: wench. 

s Broach, t.e. pierce, as with a spit; F. broehe. 

s The emprfu, pronounce th' empere$t. 

285 



ACT IV. Scene 2. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT IV. Scene 2. 



^ 



Dem, Wilt thou betray thy noble mistress 

thus? 
£Aar. My mistress is my mistress; this,* my- 
self, — 
The vigour and the picture of my youth: 
This before all the world do I prefer; 109 

This maugre all the world will I keep safe, 
Or some of you shall smoke for it in Kome. 
Dem, By this our mother is for ever sham'd.] 
Ckt, Rome will despise her for this foul- 

escape.* 
^ur. The emperor, in his rage, will doom 

her death. 
Cht. I blush to think upon this ignomy. 
Aar, Why, there 's the privilege your beauty 
bears: 
Tie, treacherous hue, that will betray with 

blushing 
The close enacts and counsels of the heart! 
Here 's a young lad fram'd of another leer: 
Look, how the black slave smiles upon the 
father, 120 

As who should say, "Old lad, I am thine own." 
^[He is your brother, lords; sensibly fed 
)0f that self -blood that first gave life to you; 
J And from that womb where you imprison'd 

were 
He is enfranchised and come to light: 
^ Nay, he 's your brother by the surer side, 
/Although my seal be stamped in his face. ] 
Nur. Aaron, what shall I say unto the em- 
press ? 
Dem, Advise thee, Aaron, what is to be 
done, 
And we will all subscribe to thy advice: iso 
Save thou the child, so we may all be safe. 

Aar. Then sit we down, and let us all consult. 

My son and I v/ill have the wind of you: 

Keep there: now talk at pleasure of your 

safety. [They sit. 

Dem. How many women saw this child of 

his? 
Aar. Why, so, brave lords I ^ when we join 
in league, 
I am a lamb: but if you brave the Moor, 
The chafed lx)ar, the mountain lioness. 
The ocean swells not so as Aaron storms. — 
But say, again, how many saw the child? 140 

1 This, i.e. the child. > Effcape=tn.nBgre»^on, Bhame. 

s Lords, h lUssyUable. 

286 



^\r. Cornelia the midwife and myself; 
And no one else but the delivered empress. 

Aar. The empress, the midwife, and your- 
self: — 
Two may keep counsel when thethird'saway: — 
Gro to the empress, tell her this I said: — 

[He stabs her: she screams and dies. 
Weke, wekel — so criesa pigprepar'd to the spit. 

Dem. What mean'st thou, Aaron? wherefore 
didst thou this? 

Aar. O Lord, sir, 't is a deed of policy: 
Shall she live to betray this guilt of ours, — 
A long-tongu'd babbling gossip? no, lords, no: 
And now be it known to you my full intent 
Not far, one Muli lives, my countryman; 152 
His wife but yesternight was brought to bed ; 
His child is like to her, fair as you are: 
Go pack* with him, and give the mother gold, 
And tell them both the circumstance of all; 
And how by this their child shall be advanced, 
And be received for the emperor's heir. 
And substituted in the place of mine, i» 

To calm this tempest whirling in the court; 
And let the emperor dandle him for his own. 
Hark ye, lords; ye see I have given her physic, 

[Pointing to the Nurse. 
And you must needs bestow* her funeral; 
The fields are near, and you are gallant grooms: 
Tliis done, see that you take no longer days, 
But send the midwife presently to me. 
The midwife and the nurse well made away. 
Then let the ladies tattle what they please. 

Chi. Aaron, I see thou wilt not trust the air 
With secrets. 

Dem. For this care of Tamora, 170 

Herself and hers are highly bound to thee. 

[Exeunt Demetrius and Chiron hearing 
off the dead Nurse. 
Aar. NowtotheGoths,asswifta88wallowflies; 
There to dispose this treasure in mine arms. 
And secretly to greet the empress' friends. — 
Come on, you thick-lipp'd slave, I '11 bear you 

hence; 
For it is you that puts us to our shifts: 
I '11 make you feed on berries and on roots, 
And feed on curds and whey, and suck the goat, 
And cabin in a cave; and bring you up ir» 
To be a warrior and command a camp. [Krit. 



« Pack = make an arrangement with. * Bestow -9»e ta 



ACT IV. 8o0Q« 8. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT IV. Soen« 3. 



Scene III. The iame, A public place. 

Enter Titus, hearing arrows with letters at the 
ends of them; with him Marcus, Young 
Lucius, Publius, Sempronius, Caius, and 
other Oentl^meny with hows. 

Tit. Come, Marcus, come: — kinsmen, this is 
the way. — 
Sir boy, now let me see your archery; 
Look ye draw home enough, and 't is there 

straight. — 
Terra^^ Astraa reliquit: 
Be you remember'd, Marcus, she 's gone, she 's 

fled.— 
Sirs, take you to your tools. You, cousins, 

shall 
Go sound the ocean, and cast your nets; 
Happily you may catch her in the sea; 
Yet there 's as little justice as at land:- - 
No; Publius and Sempronius, you must do it; 
'TIS you must dig with mattock and with 
spade, 11 

And pierce the inmost centre of the earth : 
Then, when you come to Pluto's region, 
I pray you, deliver him this petition; 
Tell him, it is for justice and for aid, 
And that it comes from old Andronicus, 
Shaken with sorrows in ungrateful Kome. — 
Ah, Rome!- -Well, well; I made thee miserable 
What time I threw the people's suffrages 
On him that thus doth tyrannize o'er me. — 
Go, get you gone; and pray be careful all, 
And leave you not a man-of-war unsearch'd: 
This wicked emperor may have shipp'd her 
hence; 23 

And, kinsmen, then we may go pipe for justice. 

Marc, O Publius, is not this a heavy case, 
To see thy noble uncle thus distract? 

Pub, Therefore, my lord, it highly us con- 
cerns 
By day and night t' attend him carefully. 
And feed his humour kindly as we may. 
Till time beget some careful remedy. so 

Marc, Kinsmen, his sorrows are past remedy. 
Join with the Croths; and with revengeful war 
Take wreak on Rome for this ingratitude, 
And vengeance on the traitor Saturnine. 

1 Terras, Ac, AatiwA has left the earth. 



Tit, Publius, how now! how now, my mas- 
ters! What, 
Have you met with her? 
Pub, No, my good lord; but Plato sends 

you word. 
If you will have Revenge from hell, you shall: 
Marry, for Justice, she is so employed, 
He thinks, with Jove in heaven, or somewhere 

else, 40 

So that perforce you must needs stay a time. 
TU, He doth me wrong to feed me with 

delays. 
I '11 dive into the burning lake below. 
And pull her out of Acheron by th' heels. — 
Marcus, we are but shrubs, no cedars we. 
No big-bon'd men fram'd of the Cyclops' size; 
But metal, Marcus, steel to the very back. 
Yet wrung 2 with wrongs more than our backs 

can bear: 
And, sith there 's no justice in earth nor hell, 
We will solicit heaven, and move the gods 
To send down Justice for to wreak' our 

wrongs.— 51 

Come, to this gear. — You 're a good archer, 

Marcus; [He gives them the arrows. 

Ad Jovem^ that's for you: — here, Ad ApoUi- 

nem: — 
Ad Martem, that's for myself: — 
Here, boy, To Pallas: — here, To Mercury: — 
To Saturn, Caius, not to Saturnine; 
You were as good to shoot against the wind. — 
To it, boy. — Marcus, loose when I bid. — 
Of my word, I have written to effect; 
There 's not a god left unsolicited. 00 

Marc, Kinsmen, shoot aU your shafts into 

the court: 
We will atflict the emperor in his pride. 
Tit. Now, masters, draw. [They shoot,"] — 

O, well said, Lucius! — 
Good boy, in Virgo's lap; give it P&Uas. 

Marc. My lord, I aim a mile beyond the moon ; 
Your letter is with Jupiter by this. 

[ Tit, Ha, ha! J 

Publius, Publius, what hast thou done? i 

See, see, thou 'st shot off one of Taurus' horns. > 

Marc, This was the sport, my lord: when^ 

Publius shot, 70 > 

The Bull, being gall'd, gave Aries such a knock l 



« Wrung -^T^fM^. 



« Tfreolrs revenge. 



287 



ACT IV. Scene S. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT IV. Soene 4. 



•That down fell both the Barn's horns in the 
court; 72 

And who should find them but the empress' 

villain? 
She laugh'd, and told the Moor he should not 

choose 

But give them to his master for a present. 
^ Tit. Why, there it goes: Grod give his lord- 
< ship joy 1] 

Enter a Clovm vdth a basket^ and two pigeons 

in it. 

News, news from heaven! Marcus, the post is 

come. — 
Sirrah, what tidings? have you any letters? 
Shall I have justice? what says Jupiter? 79 

Clo. O, the gibbet-maker? he says that he 
hath taken them down again, for the man 
must not be hang'd till the next week. 

Tit. But what says Jupiter, I ask thee ? 

Clo. Alas, sir, I know not Jupiter; I never 
drank with him in all my life. 

Tit. Why, villain, art not thou the carrier? 

Clo. Ay, of my pigeons, sir; nothing else. 

Tit. Why, didst thou not come from heaven? 

Clo. From heaven! alas, sir, I never came 
there: God forbid I should be so bold to press 
to heaven in my young daya Why, I am 
going with my pigeons to the tribunal plebs, 
to take up a matter of brawl betwixt my uncle 
and one of the emperial's men. 94 

Marc. Why, sir, that is as fit as can be to 
serve for your oration; and let him deliver the 
pigeons to the emperor from you. 

Tit. Tell me, can you deliver an oration to 
the emperor with a grace? 

Clo. Nay, truly, sir, I never could say grace ^ 
in all mv life. loi 

Tit. Sirrah, come hither: make no more ado, 
But give your pigeons to the emperor: 
By me thou shalt have justice at his liands. 
Hold, hold; meanwhile here's money for thy 

chargea — 
Give me pen and ink. — 
Sirrah, can you with a grace deliver a suppli- 
cation ? 

Clo. Ay, sir. 108 

Tit. Then here is a supplication for you. 

1 Grace, an obvious quibble on the two meanings of the 
word. 

288 



And when you come to him, at the first ap- 
proach you must kneel; then kiss his foot; 
then deliver up your pigeons; and then look 
for your reward. I'll be at hand, sir; see 
you do it bravely. 

Clo. I warrant you, sir, let me alone. 

Tit. Sirrah, hast thou a knife? come, let 
me see it — 
Here, Marcus, fold it in the oration; 
For thou hast made it like an humble sup- 
pliant: — 
And when thou hast given it to the emperor. 
Knock at my door, and tell me what he says. 

Clo. God be with you, sir; I wilL 12a 

Tit. Come, Marcus, let us go. — Publiiia, 
follow me. [Exeunt, 

ScBNE IV. The same. Before the palace. 

Enter Saturninus, Tamora, Demetrius, 
Chiron, Lords, and others; Saturninus 
with the arrows in his hand thai Titus shot. 

Sat. Why, lords, what wrongs are these! 

was ever seen 
An emperor in Home thus overborne. 
Troubled, confronted thus; and, for th' extent 
Of egal justice, us'd in such contempt? 
My lords, you know, as do the mightful gods. 
However these disturbers of our peace 
Buzz in the people's ears, there naught hath 

pass'd. 
But even with law, against the wilful sons 
Of old Andronicus. And what an if » 

His sorrows have so overwhelm'd his wits, — 
Shall we be thus afflicted in his wreaks, 
His fits, his frenzy, and his bitterness? 
And now he writes to heaven for his redress: 
See, here 's To Jove^ and this To Mercury; 
This To Apollo; this To the god of war; — 
Sweet scrolls to fly about the streets of Rome! 
What 's this but libelling against the senate. 
And blazoning^ our injustice every where? 
A goodly humour, is it not, my lords? «► 

As who would say, in Rome no justice were. 
But if I live, his feigned ecstasies 
Shall be no shelter to these outrages: 
But he and his shall know that justice lives 
In Saturninus' health; whom, if she sleep, 

> Btozomnjjr, procUdming. 



ACT IV. Scene 4. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT IV. Scene 4. 



He 11 80 awake, as she in fury shall 

Cut oflf the proud'st conspirator that lives. 

Tarn. My gracious lord, my lovely Saturnine, 
Lord of my life, commander of my thoughts, 
Calm thee, and bear the faults of Titus' age, 
Th' effects of sorrow for his valiant sous, 90 
Whose loss hath pierc'd him deep and scarr'd 

his heart; 
And rather comfort his distressed plight 
Than prosecute the meanest or the best 
For these contempts. — [Aside] Why, thus it 

shall become 
High-witted Tamora to gloze with all: 
But, Titus, I have touch'd thee to the quick. 
Thy life-blood out: if Aaron now be wise. 
Then is all safe, the anchor 's in the port. — 

Enter Clotmi. 

How now, good fellow! wouldst thou speak 

with us? 

Clo. Yea, forsooth, an your mistress-ship be 

emperiaL 40 

Tarn. Empress I am, but yonder sits the 

emperor. 
CTo. T is he. — God and Saint Stephen give 
you godden: * I have brought you a letter and 
a couple of pigeons here. 

[Saturninus reads the letter. 
Sat. Go, take him away, and hang him pre- 
sently. 
67o. How much money must I have? 
Tarn, Come, sirrah, you must be hang'd. 
C7o. Hang'd ! by 'r lady, then I have brought 
up a neck to a fair end. [Ejnt, giiarded. 

Sat. Despiteful and intolerable wrongs! 
Shall I endure this monstrous villany ? 5i 
I know from whence this same device proceeds: 
May this be borne, — as if his traitorous sons. 
That died by law for murder of our brother. 
Have by my means been butcher'd wrong- 
fully?— 
Go, drag the villain hither by the hair; 
Nor age nor honour shall shape ^ privilege: — 
For this proud mock I '11 be thy slaughter-man ; 
Sly frantic wretch, that holp'st to make me 
great, 69 

In hope thyself should govern Bome and roe. 

1 Ooddm, "good evening." 
* Shape, procure him. 

VOL. VIL 



Enter ^milius. 

What news with thee, -<Emilius? 

jEmil. Arm, ann, my lord, — Bome never 
had more cause! 
The Goths have gather'd head ; and with a 

power' 
Of high-resolved men, bent to the spoil. 
They hither march amain, under condiict 
Of Lucius, sou to old Andronicus; 
Who threats, in course of his revenge, to do 
As much as ever Coriolanus did. 

Sat, Is warlike Lucius general of the Goths? 
These tidings nip me; and I hang the head 
As flowers with frost, or grass beat down with 
storms: n 

Ay, now begin our sorrows to approach : 
Tis he the common people love so much; 
Mjrself hath often overheard them say — 
When I have walked like a private man — 
That Lucius' banishment was wrongfully. 
And they have wish'd that Lucius were their 
emperor. 

Tarn, Why should you fear? is not your 
city strong? 

Sat, Ay, but the citizens favour Lucius, 
And will revolt from me to succour him. 80 

Tayn. King, be thy thoughts imperious, like 
thy name. 
Is the sun dimm'd, that gnats do fly in it? 
The eagle suffers little birds to sing. 
And is not careful what they mean thereby, 
Knowing that with the shadow of his wings 
He can at pleasure stint their melody: 
Even so mayst thou the giddy men of Rome. 
Then cheer thy spirit: for know, thou emperor, 
I will enchant the old Andronicus 
With wonls more sweet, and yet more dan- 
gerous, 90 
Than baits to fish, or honey-stalks to sheep; 
Whenas the one is wounded with the bait. 
The other rotted with delicious feed. 

Sat. But he will not entreat his son for us. 

Tarn. If Tamora ei]ti*eat him, then he 
will: 
For I can smooth, and fill his aged ear 
With golden promises; that, were his heart 
Almost impregnable, his old ears deaf. 



> Power, army. 
289 



185 



ACT IV. Scene 4. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT Y. Scene U 



Yet should both ear aiid heart obey my 

tongue. — 
[T'o AiJmiliiis] Go thou before, be our ambas- 
sador: 100 
Say that the emperor requests a parley 
Of warlike Lucius, and appoint the meeting 
Even at liis father's house, the old Androni- 
cus. 
Sat, ^milius, do this message honour- 
ably; 
And if he stand on hostage for his safety, 



Bid him demand what pledge will please him 
best. 
^mil. Your bidding shall I do effectually. 

[Exit. 
Tarn, Now will I to that old Andronicus, 
And temper him, with all the art I have, 
To pluck proud Lucius from the warlike Goths. 
And now, sweet emperor, be blithe again, 
And bury all thy fear in my devices. 112 

ScU. Then go successantly, and plead to him. 

[ExeurU. 



ACT V. 



Scene I. Plains near Rome. 

Enter Lucius, and an army of (Joths^ with 
drums and colours. 

Lwi. Approved warriors, and my faithful 
friends, 
I have received letters from Great Home, 
Which signify what hate they bear their em- 
peror. 
And how desirous of our sight they are. 
Therefore, great lords, be, as your titles wit- 
ness, 
Imperious, and impatient of your wrongs; 
And wherein Home hath done you any 

scathe,^ 
Let him make treble satisfaction. 
First Goth. Brave slip, sprung from the great 
Andronicus, 
Whose name was once our terror, now our 
comfort; 10 

Whose high exploits and honourable deeds 
Ingrateful Home requites with foul con- 
tempt. 
Be bold in us: we 11 follow where thou lead'st, — 
Like stinging bees in hottest summer's day. 
Led by their master to the flowered fields, — 
And be aveng'd on cursed Tamora. 

Goths. And as he saith, so say we all with 

him. 
Luc. I humbly thank him, and I thank you 
all.— 
But who comes here, led by a lusty Goth? 

1 Scathe = \i«rm. 
290 



Enter a Goth, leading Aaron with his Child 

in his arms. 

Sec. Goth. B^nowned Lucius, from our troops 
I stray'd 20 

To gaze upon a ruinous monastery; 

And, as I earnestly did fix mine eye 

Upon the wasted building, suddenly 

I heard a child cry underneath a wall. 

I made unto the noise; when soon I heard 

The cr3ring babe controll'd with this dis- 
course: 

t " Peace, tawny slave, half me and half thy \ 
dam! 

Did not thy hue bewray whose brat thou art, ^ 

Had nature lent thee but thy mother's look, ; 

Villain, thou mightst have been an emperor: ; 

But where the bull and cow are both milk- ) 
white, 81 > 

They never do beget a coal-black calf.^ \ 

Peace, villain, peace!" — even thus he rates the 
babe, — 

'^ For I must bear thee to a trusty Goth; 

Who, when he knows thou art the empress' 
babe. 

Will hold thee dearly for thy mother's sake." 

With this, my weapon drawn, I rush'd upon 
him. 

Surprised him suddenly; and brought him 
hither. 

To use as you think needful of the man. 
Imc, O worthy Goth, this is th' incarnate 
devil 40 

That robb'd Andronicus of his good hand; 



TITUS ANDBONICUa 



^f This is the pearl that plea«'(l your empress' 

S eye; 

\ And here 'a the base fruit of his buming 

t lust ] 

Say, wall-ey'd ' slave, whither wouldst thou 

convey 
Thin growing image of thy fiend-like facel 
Whydostsotspeak? wluit,deaf I notaword? — 
A haiter, aoldiers ! hang him on this tree, 
And by his side his fruit of bastardy. 

A ar. Touch not the boy,— he is of royal blood. 

Luc. Too like the sire for ever being good. — 

First haug the child, that he may see it 

sprawl, — SI 

A sight to vex tbe father's soul withal. — 

Get me a ladder. 

[J ladder brought, which Aaron it made 
to atcend. 
Aar. Lucius, save the child. 

And bear it from me t« the empress. 
If thou do this, I'll show thee wondrous things, 
That highly may advantage thee to hear: 
If thou wilt nut, befall what may befall, 
I 'II apeak no more but — vengeance rot you all I 
Luc. Say on: an if it please me which thou 
speak'st, a» 

Thy child shall live, and I will see it nourish'd. 
^Aar. An if it please theel why, assure thee, 
', Lucius, 

'Twill vex thy soul to hear what I shall speak; 
' For I must talk of murders, rapes, and mas- 

' Acts of black night, abominable deeds, 
.-Complots of mischief, treason, villanies 
i Ruthful to hear, yet piteously* perfurm'd: 
And this shall all be buried in my death, 
' Unless thou swear to me my child shall live. 
' Lue. Tell on thy mind ; I say thy child eliall 
'. live.] 

Aar. Swear that he shall, and then I will 

begin. 70 

Lue. Who should I swear by ? tiiou believ'rt 

Ttiat granted, how tanet thou believe an oath) 
Aar. What if Idonottas,indeed,Idonot; 
Yet, for I know thou art religious, 
And hast a thing within thee called conscience, 



With twenty popish tricks and ceremonies. 
Which I liave seen thee careful to observe, 
Therefore I urge thy oath; for that I know 
An idiot holda bis bauble^ for a god. 
And keeps the oath which by that god he 
swears, w 

To tliat I '11 urge him:— therefore thou shalt 

By that same god, what god soe'er it be, 




Tliat thou ador'st and hast in reverence, — 
To save my boy, to nourish and bring him up; 
Or else I will discover naught U> thee. 

Luc. Sven by my god I swear to thee I will 

Aar. [Firat know thou, I begot him on the^ 

empress. J 

Luc. O most insatiate and luxurious* wo- 1; 

Aar. Tut, Lucius, this was but a deed uf^ 

charity »', 

To that which thou shalt hear of roe anon, i 

Twas her two sous that murder'd Bassianus;, 

Tbey cut thy sister's tongue, and ravish'd' 



her. 



> AiuM - pUfthlDg. 



.,.! 



ACT V. Scene 1. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT V. Soene 1. 



Imc. O detestable villain! call'st thou that 
trimming? 

Aar, Why, she was wash'd, and cut, and 
trimm'd; and 'twas 
;Trim sport for them that had the doing of it. 

Liu:, O barbarous, beastly villains, like thy- 
self! 

Aar. Indeed, I was their tutor to instruct 
them: 
;That codding^ spirit had they from their 

mother, 

I As sure a card as ever won the set;* lOO 

I That bloody mind, I think, they leam'd of me, 
I As true a dog as ever fought at head. — ] 
Well, let my deeds be witness of my worth. 
I train'd thy brethren to that guileful hole. 
Where the dead corpse of Bassianus lay: 
I wrote the letter that thy father foimd. 
And hid the gold within the letter mention'd. 
Confederate with the queen and her two sons: 
And what not done, that thou hast cause to rue, 
Wherein I had no stroke of mischief in it? 
I play'd the cheater for thy father's hand; 
And, when I had it, drew myself apart, 112 
And almost broke my heart with extreme 

laughter: 
I pry'd me through the crevice of a wall 
When, for his hand, he had his two sons' heads; 
Beheld his tears, and laugh'd so heartily. 
That both mine eyes were rainy like to his: 
And when I told the empress of this sport. 
She swooned almost at my pleasing tale. 
And for my tidings gave me twenty kisses. 

First Goth, What, canst thou say all this, 
and never blush? 121 

Aar, Ay, like a black dog, as the saying i& 

Luc. Art thou not sorry for these heinous 
deeds? 

iiar. Ay,that I had not done a thousand more. 
Even now I curse the day — and yet, I think. 
Few come within tlie compass of my curse — 
Wherein I did not some notorious ill: 
As, kill a man, or else devise his death ; 
t Eavish a maid, or plot the way to do it;] 129 
Accuse some innocent, and forswear myself ; 
Set deadly enmity between two friends; 
Make poor men's cattle stray and break their 
necks; 



Codding, lustful. 



>5eCsgame, match. 



292 



Set fire on bams and hay-stacks in the night, 
And bid the owners quench them with their 

tears. 
Oft have I digg'd-up dead men from their 

graves, 
And set them upright at their dear friends' 

doors, 
Even when their sorrow almost was forgot; 
And on their skins, as on the bark of trees, 
Have with my knife carved in Roman letters 
^*Let not your sorrow die, though I am 

dead." 140 

Tut, I have done a thousand dreadful things 
As willingly as one would kill a fly; 
And nothing grieves me heartily indeed. 
But that I cannot do ten thousand more. 
Liu:, Bring down the devil; for he must not 

die 
So sweet a death as hanging presently. 

[Aaron is brought down from the ladder. 
Aar, If there be devils, would I were a 

devil. 
To live and burn in everlasting fire. 
So I might have your company in hell, 
But to torment you with my bitter tongue! 
Liu:, Sirs, stop his mouth, and let him 

speak no more. i5i 

Enter a OotL 

Third Ooth, My lord, there is a messenger 
from Rome 
Desires to be admitted to your presence. 
Luc, Let him come near. 

Enter .^Emiliu& 

Welcome, -^Emilius: what's the news from 
Rome? 
uEmil, Lord Lucius, and you princes of the 
Goths, 
The Roman emperor greets you all by me; 
And, for he understands you are in arms, 
He craves a parley at your father's house, 
Willing you to demand your hostages, 16O 
And they shall be immediately deliver'd. 
First Goth, What says our general ? 
Luc. JEmilius, let the emperor give his 
pledges 
Unto my father and my uncle Marcus, 
And we will come. — March, away! 

[Flourish, Exeunt, 



ACT V. Soene S. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT V. Soene 2. 



Scene II. Rome, Before Tittups house. 

Enter Tamora, Demetrius, and Chiron, 

disguised. 

Tarn, Thus, in this strange and sad habili- 
ment, 
I will encounter with Andronicus, 
And say I am Hevenge, sent from below 
To join with him and right his heinous wrongs. 
Knock at his study, where, they say, he keeps, 
To ruminate strange plots of dire revenge; 
Tell him Revenge is come to join with him. 
And work Confusion on his enemies. 

\They knock. 

Enter Titus, ah&ioe. 

Tit, Who doth molest my contemplation ? 
Is it your trick to make me ope the door, lo 
That so my sad decrees may fly away, 
And all my study be to no effect? 
You are deceived: for what I mean to do 
See here in bloody lines I have set down; 
And what Lb written shidl be executed. 

Tarn. Titus, I now am come to talk with 
thee. 

Tit. No, not a word: how can I grace my 
talk, 
Wanting a hand to give it action? 
Thou hast the odds^ of me; therefore no more. 

Tarn. If thou didst know me, thou wouldst 
talk with me. 20 

Tit. I am not mad; I know thee well enough : 
Witness this wretched stump, witness these 

crimson lines; 
Witness these trenches' made by grief and care ; 
Wituess the tiring day and heavy night; 
Witness all sorrow, that I know thee well 
For our proud empress, mighty Tamora: 
Is not thy coming for my other hand? 

Tarn, Know, thou sad man, I am not Ta- 
mora; 
She is thy enemy, and I thy friend: 29 

I am Revenge; sent from th' infernal kingdom. 
To ease the gnawing vulture of thy mind. 
By working wreakful vengeance on thy foes. 
Come down, and welcome me to this world's 
light; 



1 OddtsadvuiUge. 

s Trenches t i-e, the Itnet on his cheeki. 



Confer with me of murder and of death : 
There *s not a hollow cave or lurking-place, 
No vast obscurity or misty vale, 
t Where bloody murder or detested rape t 
Can couch for fear, ] but I will find them out;< 
And in their ears tell them my dreadful name, — 
Revenge, — which makes the foul offenders 
quake. 40 

Tit. Art thou Revenge? and art thou sent 
to me. 
To be a torment to mine enemies? 

Tarn, I am; therefore come down, and wel- 
come me. 
Tit. Do me some service, ere I come to thee. 
fLo, by thy side where Rape and Murder < 
stand ;j < 

Now give some surance tliat thou art Re- 
venge,— 
Stab them, or tear them on tliy chariot- wheels; 
And then I 'II come and be thy wagoner, 
And whirl along with thee about the globe. 
Provide thee two proper palfreys, black as jet> 
To hale thy vengeful wagon swift away, 61 
And find out murderers in their guilty caves: 
And when thy car is loaden with their heads, 
I will dismount, and by the wagon-wheel 
Trot, like a servile footman, all day long, 
Even from Hyperion's rising in the east 
Until his very downfall in tlie sea: 
And day by day I '11 do this heavy task. 
So thou destroy Rapine^ and Munler there. 
Tarn, These are my ministers, and come 
with me. 00 

Tit, Are these thy ministers? what are they 

call'd? 
Tarn. Rapine and Murder; therefore called 
so, 
'Cause they take vengeance of such kind of men. 
Tit. Grood Lonl, how like the empress' sons 
they are! 
And you, the empress! but we worldly men 
Have miserable, mad-mistaking eyes. 

sweet Revenge, now do I come to thee; 
And, if one arm's embracement will content 

thee, 

1 will embrace thee in it by and by. «o 

[Exit above. 
Tam. This closing witli him fits his lunacy: 

* RapinSf equivalent to raj^e. 
2d3 



ACT V. Scene 2. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT V. Scene 1 



Whatever I forge* to feed his brain-sick fita, 
Do you uphold and maintain in your speeches, 
For now he firmly takes me for Revenge; 
And, being credulous in this mad thought, 
I '11 make him send for Lucius his son; 
And, whilst I at a banquet hold him sure, 
I '11 find some cunning practice out of hand. 
To scatter and disperse the giddy Goths, 
Or, at the least, make them his enemies. — 
See, here he comes, and I must ply my theme. 

Enter Titus, below. 

Tit, Long have I been forlorn, and all for 
thee: 8i 

Welcome, dread Fury, to my woful house: — 
Eapine and Mui-der, you are welcome too: — 
How like the empress and her sons you are! 
Well are you fitted, had you but a Moor: — 
Could not all hell afford you such a devil ? — 
For well I wot the empress never wags * 
But in her company there is a Moor; 
And, would you represent our queen aright, 
It were convenient vou had such a devil : 90 
But welcome, as you Jire. What shall we do? 
t Tarn, What wouldst thou have us do, An- 

dronicus? 
Dem. Show me a murderer, I '11 deal with him. 
ChL Show me a villain that hath done a rape. 
And I am sent to be reveng'd on him. 

Tarn. Show me a thousand that have done 
thee wrong. 
And I will be revenged on them all. 

Tit, Look round about the wicked streets 
of Rome; 
And when thoufind'st aman that's like thyself, 
Grood Murder, stab him; he 's a murderer. — 
(Jo thou with him; and when it is thy hap 
To find another that iis like to thee, 102 

Good Rapine, stab him; he 's a ravisher. — 
Go thou with them; and in the emperor's court 
There is a queen, attended by a Moor; 
Well mayst thou know her by thy own pro- 

jx)rtion, 

^For up and down she doth resemble thee: 
<I pray thee, do on them some violent death; 
^They have been violent to me and mine. ] 
Tarn, Well hast thou lesson'd us; this shall 
we do. 110 

i Whate'er 1 forge, i.e. whatever story I invent 
s Wagt, Btlra. 

294 



But would it please thee, good Andronicua, 
To send for Lucius, thy thrice- valiant son. 
Who leads towards Rome a band of warlike 

Goths, 
And bid him come and banquet at thy house; 
When he is here, even at thy solemn feast, 
I will bring in the empress and her sons, 
The emperor himself, and all thy foes; 
And at thy mercy shall they stoop and kneel, 
And on them shalt thou ease thy angry heart 
What says Andronicus to this device? lao 
Tit, Marcus, my brother! 'tis sad Titos calls. 

Enter MARcn& 

Go, gentle Marcus, to thy nephew Lucius; 
Thou shalt inquire him out among the Goths: 
Bid him repair to me, and bring with him 
Some of the chiefest princes of the Goths; 
Bid him encamp his soldiers where they are: 
Tell him the emperor and the empress too 
Feast at my house, and he shall feast with them. 
This do thou for my love; and so let him. 
As he regards his aged father's life. uo 

Marc. This will I do, and soon return again. 

[ExiL 
Tarn, Now will I hence alxmt thy business, 
And take my ministers along with me. 
t Tit. Nay, nay, let Rape and Murder stay J 
with me; 
Or else I '11 call my brother back again. 
And cleave to no revenge but Lucius. 

7V»m.] [Aside to Demetrius and Chiron] What 
say you, boys? will you bide with him, 
Whiles I go tell my lord the emperor 
How I have govem'd our determin'd jest? 
Yield to his humour, smooth and speak him fair. 
And tarry with him till I turn again. 141 

Tit. [Aside] I know them all, though they 
suppose me mad. 
And will o'er-reach them in their own devices, — 
A pair of cursed hell-hounds and their dam. 
Dem. [Aside to Tamora] Madam, depart at 

pleasure; leave us here. 
Tarn, Farewell, Andronicus: Revenge now 
goes 
To lay a complot to betray thy foes. 

Tit. 1 know thou dost; and, sweet Revenge, 

farewell [Exit Tamora. 

Chi, Tell us, old man, how shall we be em- 

ploy'd? 14» 



TITUS ANDBONICUa 



Til. Tut, I have work enough for you todo.— 
PubliuB, come hither, Ouus, aud Valeutinel 

EtOer PcBuca, Caics, aad Valehtihe. 
Pvb. What is your will? 
Tit. Know you these two? 
Puh. Tlie enipreaa' boub, 



I take them,' ChiroD anil Demetriun. 

Tit. [Fie, PubliuB, fiel thou art too muchj 
deceiv'd, — IM' 

The one is Murder, Rape is th' other'a name; '. 
And therefore bind them, gentle Publina:— JJ 
Oaius and Valentine, lay handa on them:— 
Oft have you heard nie wish fur such au hour, 




And now I find it; therefore bind them sure; 
And itop their mouths, if they begin U> cry. 

[Pvbliut, Ac. lay hold on Ckirtm and 

CKi. Villains, forbear '. we are the empress' 

Pub. And therefore do we what we are 
commanded. — 
Stop close their mouths, let them not speak a 

Is he sureboiuidf look that you bind them fast 

Rt-aUer TiTus, teith Lavikia; Ae bearing 

a knife, and the a baiin. 
Tit. Come, come, lAvinia; look, thy foes are 
bound. — 



Sirs,stoptheirmonths,letthemuotBpeaktome; 
But let them hew what fearful words I utter. — 
Tillains, Chiron and Demetrius! ITO 

Here stands the spring whom you have stain'd 

with mud; 
This goodly summer with your winter mix'd. 
You kill'd her husbaud; and for tliat vile fault 
Two of her brothers were conilemn'd to death, 
My hand cut off, and made a meiTy jest; 
[Both her sweet hands, her tongue, and thati 

Than hands or tongue, her spotless chastity, < 
Inhuman traibim, you constiain'd and fore'd.' 
What would you Kiy, if I should letyouspeakl; 
Villain8,forBhameynucouldnotbegforgrace.]i 

■ Ti^ tha»= tall* tbem to b«. 



ACT V. Scene 2. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT V. 



S. 



Hark, wretches! how I mean to martyr you. 
This one hand yet is left to cut your throats, 
Whilst that Lavinia 'tween her stumps doth 
hold 183 

The basin that receives your guilty blood. 
You know your mother means to feast with me. 
And calls herself Bevenge, and thinks me 

ma<l: — 
Hark, villains! I will grind your bones to dust, 
And with your blood and it I '11 make a paste; 
And of the paste a coiiin I will rear, 189 

And make two pasties of your shameful heads; 
/ fAnd bid that strumpet, your unhallow'd dam, 
/ Like to the earth, swallow her own increase.^ ] 
This is the feast that I have bid her to, 
And this the banquet she shall surfeit on; 
For worse than Philomel youus'd my daughter. 
And worse than Progne I will be reveng'd: 
And no w prepare your throats. — Lavinia, come, 

[He cuts their throats. 
Receive the blood : and when that they are dead. 
Let me go grind their bones to powder small. 
And with this hateful liquor temper it; 200 
And in that paste let their vile heads be bak'd. 
Come, come, be every one officious ^ 
To make this banquet; which I wish may prove 
More stem and bloody than the Centaurs' feast. 
So:— 

Now bring them in, for I will play the cook. 
And see them ready 'gainst their mother comes. 
[Exeuntj bearing the dead bodies. 

Scene III. Court of Titu^s house: tables set out. 

Enter Lucius, Marcus, atid Ooths^ with Aaron 
prisoner^ and his Child in the arms of an 
Attendant; other Attendants, 

Luc. Uncle Marcus, since it is my father's 
mind 
That I repair to Rome, I am content. 

First Goth. And ours with thine, befall 

what fortune will. 
LtLc. Good uncle, tiike you in this barbarous 
Moor, 
This ravenous tiger, this accursed devil; 
Let him receive no sustenance, fetter him. 
Till he l>e brought unto the empress' face. 
For testimony of her foul proceedings: 



1 Increase, i.e. produce. 



296 



s Ojjicious, eager. 



And see the ambush of our friends be strong; 

I fear the emperor means no good to ub. 10 

Aar, Some devil whisper curses in mine ear. 

And prompt me that my tongue may utter 

forth 
The venomous malice of my swelling heart! 
Luc, Away, inhuman dog ! unhallow'd 
slave! — 
Sirs, help our uncle to convey him in. 

[Exeunt some Goths, with Aaron. Flourish 
within. 
The trumpets show the emperor is at hand. 

Enter Saturninus and Tamora, with ^milius, 
Tribunes, Senators, and others. 

Sat, What, hath the firmament more suns 

than one ? 
Lu>c, What boots it thee to call thyself a sun ? 
Marc. Rome's emperor, amd nephew, break' 
the parle; 
These quarrels must be quietly debated. 20 
The feast is ready, which the careful Titus 
Hath 6rdain'd to an honourable end, 
For peace, for love, for league, and good to 

Rome: 
Please you, theref6re, draw nigh, and take 
your places. 
Sat. Marcus, we will. 

[Hautboys sound. The company sit 
down at table. 

Enter Titus, dressed like a Cook, Lavinia, 
veiled. Young Lucius, and others. Titus 
places the dishes on the table. 

Tit. Welcome, my gracious lord; welcome, 
dread queen; 
Welcome, ye warlike Goths; welcome, Lucius; 
And welcome, all : although the cheer be poor, 
'Twill fill your stomachs; please you eat of it 
Sat. Why art thou thus attir'd, Andronicus ? 
Tit. Because I would be sure to have all well, 
To entertain your highness and your empress. 
Tarn. We are beholding to you, good An- 
dronicus. 
Tit. An if your highness knew my heart, 
you were. — 
My lord the emperor, resolve me this: 
Was it well done of rash Virginius 

> Breakf commence. 



ACT V. Some 8. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT V. Scene 8. 



To slay his daughter vith his own right hand, 
Because she was enforced, stain'd, and deflour'd? 
Sat. It was, Andronicus. 
Tit. Your reason, mighty lord? 40 

Sat. Because the girl should not survive 
her shame. 
And by her presence still renew his sorrows. 
Tit. A reason mighty, strong, and effectual; 
A pattern, precedent, and lively warrant. 
For me, most wretched, to perform the like: — 
Die, die, Lavinia, and thy shame with thee; 

[KiUs Lavinia. 
And with thy shame thy father's sorrow die! 
Sat. What hast tliou done, unnatural and 

unkind? 
Tit. Kiird her, for whom my tears have 
made me blind. 
I am as woful as Virginius was, 50 

And have a thousand times more cause than he 
To do this outrage; — and it now is done. 
J ^Sat. What, was she ravished? tell who did 
< the deed. 

I Tit. Wiirt please you eat? will't please 
; your highness feed ? ] 

Tarn. Why hast thou slain thine only 

daughter thus? 
Tit. Not I; 'twas Cliiron and Demetrius: 
{|They ravish'd her, and cut away her tongue ;] 
And they, 't was they, that did her all this 
wrong. 
ScU. Go fetch them hither to us presently. 
Tit. Wliy, there they are both, baked in 
that pie; 60 

Whereof their mother daintily hath fed. 
Eating the flesh that she herself hath bred. 
•T is true, 'tis true; witness my knife's sharp 
point [Kills Tamora. 

Sat. Die, frantic wretch, for this accursed 
deed ! [KUU Titus. 

Luc Can the son's eye behold his father 
bleed? 
There's meed for meed, death for a deadly deed 1 
\KiU4 Saturninus, A great tumult. Lucius^ 
Marcus^ and their Partisans go up into a 
gallery. 
Marc. You sad-faced men, people and sons 
of Rome, 
By uproar sever'd, like a flight of fowl 
Scatter'd by winds and high tempestuous gusts, 
O, let me teach you how to knit again 70 



This scatter'd com into one mutual sheaf, 
These broken limbs again into one body; 
Lest Rome herself be bane unto herself, 
And she whom mighty kingdoms court'sy to, 
Like a forlorn and desperate castaway, 
Do shameful execution on herself. 
But if my frosty signs and chaps of age. 
Grave witnesses of true experience, 
Cannot induce you to attend my words, — 
[To Lucius] Speak, Rome's dear friend: as 

erst our ancestor, 80 

When with his solemn tongue he did discourse 
To love-sick Dido's sad-attending ear 
The story of that baleful-burning night 
When subtle Greeks surpris'd King Priam's 

Troy,— 
Tell us wliat Sinon hath bewitch'd our ears. 
Or who hath brought the fatal engine in 
That gives our Troy, our Rome, the civil 

wound. — 
My heart is not compact of flint nor steel; 
Nor can I utter all our bitter grief, 80 

But floods of tears will drown my oratory. 
And break my utterance, even in the time 
When it should move you to attend me most, 
Lending your kind commiseration. 
Here is our captain, let him tell the tale; 
Your hearts will throb and weep to hear him 

speak. 
Luc. Then, noble auditory, be it known to 

you 
That cursed Cliiron and Demetrius 
Were they that murdered our emperor's bro- 
ther; 08 
And they it were that ravished our sister: 
For their fell fault our brothers were beheaded ; 
Our father's tears despis'd, and basely cozen'd^ 
Of that true hand that fought Rome's quarrel 

out, 
And sent her enemies unto the grave. 
Lastly, myself unkindly banished, . 
Tlie gates shut on me, and tum'd weeping out. 
To beg relief among Rome's enemies; 
Wlio drown'd their enmity in my true tears, 
And op'd their arms t' embrace me as a friend: 
I am tiie tum'd forth, be it known to you, 
Tliat have preserv'd her welfare in my blood; 
And from her bosom took the enemy's point, 

1 Cozen'd, i.e. he wu coiened. 
297 



ACT Y. Some 8. 



TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT V. SoKM 



Sheathing the steel in my adventurous body. 
Alas, you know I am no vaimter, I; lis 

My scars can witness, dumb although they are, 
That my report \a just and full of truth. 
But, soft! methiuks I do digress too much, 
Citing my worthless praise: O, pardon me; 
For when no friends are by, men praise them- 
selves. 
Marc. [ Now is my turn to speak. Behold 
this child, — 
[Pointing to the Child in the anns of an 
^ Attendant, 

^Of this was Tamora delivered: 120 

^'The issue of an irreligious Moor, 
i; Chief architect and plotter of these woes: 
^The villain is alive in Titus' house, 
^ Damn'd as he is, to witness this is true. 
^Now judge what cause bad Titus to revenge 
^ These wrongs, unspeakable, past patience, 
< Or more than any living man could bear. ^ 
Now you have heard the truth, what say you, 

Romans? 
Have we done aught amiss, — show us wherein. 
And, from the place where you behold us now. 
The poor remainder of Ardronici isi 

Will, hand in hand, all headlong cast us down. 
And on the ragged stones beat forth our brains, 
And make a mutual closure of our house. 
Speak, Komans, speak ; and if you say we shall, 
Lo, hand in hand, Lucius and I will falL 
^jnil. Come come, thou reverend man of 
Rome, 
And bring our emperor gently in thy hand, 
Lucius our emperor; for well I know 
The common voice do cry it shall be so. 140 
Romans, Lucius, all hail, Rome's royal em- 
peror! 
Marc, [To Attendants] Gro, go into old Titus' 
sorrowful house. 
And hither hale that misbelieving Moor, 
To be ad j udg'd some direful-slaughtering death. 
As pimishment for his most wicked life. 

[Ejseunt some Attendants. 

Lucius, Marcus, d-c, descend. 

Romans. Lucius, all hail, Rome's gracious 

governor! 
Luc. Thanks, gentle Romans: may I gov- 
ern so, 
To heal Rome's harms, and wipe away her woe! 

298 



But, gentle people, give me aim^ awhile, — 
For nature puts me to a heavy task: — ] 
Stand all aloof; — but, uncle, draw you near 
To shed obsequious tears upon this trunk.— 
O, take this warm kiss on tiiy pale cold lipe 

[Kissing TUt 
These sorrowful drops upon thy blood-stain 

face, 
The last true duties of thy noble son! 
Marc Tear for tear, and loving kiss i 

kiss. 
Thy brother Marcus tenders on thy lips: 
O, were the sum of these that I should pay 
Coimtless and infinite, yet would I pay then 
Luc. Come hither, boy; come, come, ai 

learn of us i 

To melt in showers: thy grandsire lov'd th< 

well: 
Many a time he danc'd thee on his knee, 
Sung thee asleep, his loving breast thy pillow 
Many a matter hath he told to thee. 
Meet and agreeing with thine infancy; 
In that respect, then, like a loving child. 
Shed yet some small drops from thy tend< 

spring. 
Because kind nature doth require it so: 
Friends should associate' friends in grief an 

woe: 1 

Bid him farewell; commit him to the grave 

Do him that kindness, and take leave of hie 

Young Luc. O grandsire, grandsire ! eve 

with all my heart 
Would I were dead, so you did live again !- 
O Lord, I cannot speak to him for weeping; 
My tears will choke me, if I ope my mouth 

Re-enter Attendants toith Aaron. 

./Emil. You sad Andronici, have done wil 

woes: 
Give sentence on this execrable wretch. 
That hath been breeder of these dire events 
Luc. Set him breast-deep in earth, ai 

famish him; 
There let him stand, and rave, and cry f< 

food: 1 

If any one relieves or pities him, 
For the offence he dies. This is our doom: 
Some stay to see him fastened in the earth. 

1 Oive me aim, i.B. direct me. * AttodaU, Join. 



ACT V. Boom 3. 

Aar. O, why ahould wrath be mute, and 
fury dumb) 
I am no baby, I, that with base prayers 
1 should repent the evils I have done: 
Ten thousand worse than ever yet I did 
Would I perfomi, it I might have my will; 
If one good deed in all my life I did, 
I do repent it from my very soul. IM 

Lae. Some loving friends convey the em- 
peror hence, 
And give huu burial in his father's grave: 
My htber and Lavinia shall forthwith 
fie closed in our household's monument. 



TITUS ANDHONICUa 



reeds. 

No mournful bell shall riug her burial; 
Butthrowherforth to beasts and birdsof prey: 
Her life was beast-like, and devoid of pity; 
And, being so, shall liave like want' of pity. 
See justice done on Aaron, that danu'd Moor, 
By whom our heavy haps had their beginning: 
Then, afterwards, to order well the state, 
That like events may ne'er it ruinate. 

[ExeviU. 





NOTES TO TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT I. SCKNK 1. 



I. Liog 4: Plead my 
which gl*« me ■ light 

cipmtlcin "tiuuHiK 



extila) ind v. 2. 1< 



cf. Rlchinllll ir. 



sntDilc cMdlittd, uid 



buiton chingcd to my; bat, lo qoote Johnwu') wordi, 
*' W« Duj luppoH thfl KoratDi^ la b gntAful ctrttaoajt 
roMting tlu dead loiu ol Andronlciu with munrnliil hi- 
bltL" Dyca followed Wurburion. 

T. Une SO: Haf/iftlu nambtr Omt King Priam JUrd 
—In TrailDi uHl CreHlcU, 1. S. m, the DUinbcr i> glno 
M Uty-ODe. 

8. LlDCI 81, 88: 

Why ruftr'il Uim My mu, unburiid y<l. 
To hanr vn tht drttuVul Ann iif Slyxl 
A Tcmiulecenee, prabablj, ol the Sixth jEneld, linn Stt- 
SSO: the td«K It •ntlnlT cUh1c*1. 

S. Linei 100, 101: That to Ote tAodma, Ac.— Allodlm 
to the cUulcal bellel that the ipMti ot anbnrled men 
retutsed to the world uid demuded ot the relattone of 
the dead the ritei ot bnrld. So the mllor In HocBca'a 
fimaiu ad», L xxtUI. ukt of Anhirtu k btndtnl ol " waa- 
derfng und." 



ACT I. Soene 1. 



NOTES TO TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT I. Scene 1. 



10. Line 106: in VABSlon/orher$on.^¥orpa9»i€n=ihe 
ezpreuion of grief, cf. Hamlet, iL 2. 641: 

And passUn in the gods. 

11. Line 110: Swttt mercy it nobility't true bttdffe.—We 
may remember Portia's great speech. The Merchant of 
Venice, iv. 1. 184-206. 

12. Line 121: Patisnt yourself —Patient as a verbs to 
compose one's self, is kwml XtyfAtMt in Shakespeare. 

11 Line 131 : wu ever SCTTHIA.— For Scythia, taken 
ss a type of barbarism, see Lear, note 82. 

14 Line 138: Upon the Thraeian tyrant in HIS tent- 
Strictly it was the tent in which Hecuba and the other 
Trojan women were confined: hence some editors read 
"her tent "* llie story is told in Euripides' Hecuba; the 
tyrant in question was Polymestor. 

16. Line 161: repote ycu here in rest.— I do not see 
why in rett should be omitted; the words occur in Qq. 
and Ff. Pope omitted. 

16. Lines 169, 160: 

Lo, at thit tomb my TRIBUTIRT TIARS 
/ render. 
The phrase is repeated later on, iii. 1. 270: 

And make them blind with tr^utary tears. 

17. Line 177: That hath aspir'd to Solon's happiness. 
—Alluding to the Greek maxim, "Call no man happy till 
be die." Compare the opening lines of Sophocles' Trachi- 
nic for a famous version of the proverb: 

There is a tayini;, time-honoured among men. 
That of a man's life, tiU the day he dies. 
Whether it be good or evil, none may know. 

— Whitelaw's Translation. 

1& Line 192: Andtet abroad.— "Trouble all the peo- 
ple with business that should be the care of one only or 
a few (Schmidt). Q. 1 and F. 1 agree in reading abroad; 
F. 3 and F. 4 have eet abroach = c9M»t, a phrase which 
occurs in three passages: II. Henry IV. iv. 2. 14; Richard 
III. i. 3. 826; and Eomeo and Juliet, L 1. 111. One meets 
witii it outside Shakespeare, e.g. in Locrine. v. 6: 

TtirmoQ our land, and srt their broils abroach. 

— Tauchniu ed. of Doubtful Plays, p. 194- 

Compare, too, the same play, ii. 4: 

And set that coward blood of thine abroach ; 

—p. 15a. 

Where the Idea is that of broaching a cask or vessel 

19. Line 242: in the taered Pantheon.— The Quartos 
tod Folios print a strange variant, Pathan. 

SO. line 309: that changing niXE.— Piece sometimes, 
SI here, conveyed an idea of contempt; cf. Troilus and 
Cressida, iv. 1. 62: 

The lees and dregs of a flat tamed /fWv, 
where the meaning is extremely offensive. Usually, how- 
ever, the word is used (according to Schmidt) to denote 
excellence; e.g. " a piece of virtue," in Pericles, iv. 6. 118; 
and "0 ruin'd piece of nature!" Lear, iv. 6. 137; and so 
on through several passages equally to the point 

21. Line 813: To RUFFLE in the commonwealth cf Rome. 
^RuJfU in the sense of " be boisterous and turbulent, " is 
of not infrequent occurrence in the dramatists, and occa- 



sionally the verb is transitive; e.g. Wit Without Money, 

V. 3: 

Can I not go about my meditations, ha i 

But such companions as you must riijffle me? 

—Beaumont and Fletcher, Works, iv. xS^; 

and The False One, v. 4: 

They rnffted me ; 

But that I could endure. 

—Beaumont and Fletcher. vL p. 299. 

In other places the idea is merely swaggering, pretentious 
behaviour, as in Cynthia's Revels, iiL 8: 

I^dy, I cannot rnffle it in red and yellow. 

—Ben Jonson, Giffbrd's ed. il. p. 390. 

For Shakespeare, note Lear, iii. 7. 41; and same play, ii. 
4. 804, where, however, Qq. read ruiMl. 

22. Line 369: " And shall ' I What villain woe it tpake 
that tm>rd;— Rather a similar touch occurs in Tambur- 
laine. part I. iiL 8. 40. 41: 

Tamb. Well said. Theridamas ; speak in that mood ; 
For will and sMaii best fitteth Tamburlaine. 

—Marlowe's Works, BuUen's ed. i. p. 57. 

28. Line 868: not WITH himee^.—An we should say, "be- 
side himself." A curious idiom, that does not occur else- 
where in Shakespeare. Ff. omit with. 

24. Line 880: wim Laerte*' «o»i.— Compare Sophocles, 
Ajax, 183JM346. 

26. line 881: /or his FUNERALS.— The plural form, a» 
in Julius Cesar, v. 3. 105: 

His^HHerais shall not be in our camp. 

Compare nuptial and nuptials: e.g. Tempest, v. 1. 306: 

Where 1 have hope to see the nu/tiaJ ; 

and Pericles, v. 8. 80: "Well celebrate their nuptials:' 
Since writing the above I have come across the form 
funeral* in one of Peele's plays, viz. The Battle of Alca- 
zar, V. last line: 

So to perform the prince'syMMrm/x . 

— Dyce's Greene & Peele, p. 44a 

26. Lines 889, 300: 

No man shed tears for noble Mutius; 

He lives in fame that died in virtue's cause. 

Evidently, says Steevens (Var. Ed. xxi. p. 280), a trans- 
lation of the distich of Ennius: 

Nemo me lacrumis decoret, nee funera fletu 

Facsit. curt volito vivu' per ora viruro. 
" Let no one honour me with tears, or celebrate my funeral with 
weeping. For why? Alive 1 flit from mouth to mouth of men." 

27. Line 391: these dreart dumps. —So the Quartos; 
the Folios give suddeti, which seems less satisfactory. 

28. Line 398: Tes, and witt, ^te.— Only in Ff., where it 
is given to Titus; assigned to Marcus by Dyce, I think 
rightly. 

29. Line 800: PLAT*D your prize. — A term borrowed 
from fencing, and of frequent occurrence; cf. The Family 
of Love. V. 3: " At that he hath played his doctor's prize" 
(Middleton's Works, iii. p. 110). 80 The Humorous Lieu- 
tenant, V. 2: 

1 had it with a vengeance ; 

It ^it^'il his /rise. 
—Beaumont and Fletcher. Works, vL p. 539; 

and Dekker, The Honest Whore, part I. scene xi.: "tmy 

301 



ACT I. Scene 1. 



NOTES TO TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT II. Scene 3. 



let me alone to play my matter't prize " (Works, ed. 1878, 
11. p. 63). 

80. Line 494: BONJOUR.— A French salutation, as Mer* 
cutio is careful to tell Romeo (Borneo, IL 4. 47). 

ACT II. Scene 1. 

81. Lines 5-7: 

A* when the golden iun talutee the tfwm. 
And, having gilt the ocean teith hie beame, 
Gallops the zodiac in hie glietering coaeh. 
Has anyone noted the not insignificant fact that this rather 
curious expression "gallops the zodiac" occurs twice in 
Peele's works? Compare the Descensus Astnese: 

And niade the silver mom and heaven's bright ejre 
Gttilo^ tMg Modiac. 

— Dyce's Greene & Peele (1883), p. 541 ; 

also Anglorum Feri», 23, 24: 

the rising sun 
Gallofs the Modiac in hisjiery train. 

—Ibid. p. 595- 

Surely this last line is simply a variation on the present 
passage, or vice verea. See, too. Romeo and Juliet, note 
116. with the quotation given there from Marlowe's Ed- 
ward II. 

32. Line 14: And mount her PITCH.— Properly pitch is 
a hawking term, " used of the height to which a falcon 
soars" (Schmidt). It occurs several times in this sense; 
e.g. in II. Henry VL ii. 1. 6, 12. 

38. Line 17: Than ie Prometheus tied to CAUCASUS.— 
For the locality, contrast the first lines of ^Eschylus' Pro- 
metheus Vinctus. 

34. Line 22: this SEMlRAMis. —Mentioned by Ovid, 
Metamorphoses, v. 85: 

Inde Sentiramio Polydaemona sanguine crettun ; 
" Then PoIyda:roon bom of the race of Semiramis." 

Also iv. 58. Compare Taming of the Shrew, Induction, 
2. 41. 

86. Line 37: Clubs, clubsI— See As You Like It, note 168. 

36. Line 39: Oave you a dancino-rapier; i.e. a sword 
worn only as an ornament in dancing. The word does 
not occur elsewhere in Shakespeare, but the reference is 
the same as in All 's Well. ii. 1. 32, 83: 

and no sword worn 
But one to dance with. 

So again, Antony and Cleopatra, iii. 11. 35, 36: 

he at Philippi kept 
His nuord e'en like a dancer. 

37. Line 62: Thia petty BRABBLE.— See TroUus and Cres- 
iida, note 295. 

88. Line 72: / love Lavinia more than all the world.— 
Re-echoed (!) in Edward II. i. 4. 77: 

Because he /ovct m* more than all the world. 

—Marlowe, ii. p. 135. 

89. Line 79: A thousand deaths.— As a coincidence it 
may be worth while to note that the same phrase comes 
in II. Tamburlaine, v. 2. 22, 23: 

Methinks I could sustain a thousand deaths 
To be revenged of all his villany. 

—Marlowe. Works. L p. 195. 

302 



40. Lines 82, 88: 

She ie a woman, then^ore may be vfoo'd; 
She it a woman, therefore may be wen. 

Shakespeare must be speaking; d L Henry VI. v. 8. 77, 78: 

She 's beautiful, and therefore to be wood; 
She is a woman, therefore to be won. 

Compare too, for the form of the expression. Sonnet xll 
5,6: 

Gentle thou art. and therefore to be wen. 
Beauteous thou art. therefore to be assmiVd; 

and Richard III. L 2. 228» 229: 

Was ever woman in this humour woo'di 
Was ever woman in this humour won 9 

41. Line 85: more water j^JtdefA.— Steevens quotes, 
without any reference, a Latin version of the saying: 
" Non omnem molitor qua fluit unda videt ;" "the miller 
does not see all the water that flows," i.e. by his milL 

42. Line 87: 0/ a cut loaf to tteal a shiyb.— A corioiis 
word, which still survives as a provincialism; cf. Miss 
Jaclcson's Shropshire Wordbook, p. 876, where two quota- 
tions are made from Ray's Proverbs: " Give a loaf and 
beg a ehive," p. 192, and "to cut large thives of another 
man's loaf." p. 175. Miss Jackson defines the word thus: 
"a thin slice, as of bread, bacon, &c.; said of bread 
chiefly." I notice it also in Mr. £1 worthy's West Somer- 
set Words, p. 6C4. Dialect Society Publications. 

48. Line 100: To SQUARE /or thie; i.e. to quarrel; d 
Midsummer Night's Dream, a 1. SO: "But they do 
square," where see note 72. 

44. Line 110: A epeedier eouree THAN lingering languish- 
ment.—Qq. and Ff. all have thie: the correction was made 
by Rowe. 

46. Line 126: The emperor's court it like the HOUSE OP 
Fame.— An allusion, no doubt, to Chaucer's poem. 

ACT II. Scene 2. 

46. Line 1 : the mom it bright atid orat. — Hanmer 
changed to gay; most inappositely, however, since this 
very expression occurs in the Old Wives' Tale: 

The dajr is clear, the welUn bright mndgro^. 

Compare also "^rray-ey'd mom" in Romeo and Juliet, Vl 
3. 1. 

47. Line 3: make a bat.— Bay = barking, do«s not occur 
elsewhere in Shakespeare. 

ACT II. Scene 3. 

4a Lines 10-29: Uy lovely Aaron, Ac— In Malone'i 
opinion this is the only speech in the play that has s 
Shakespearian ring (Variorum Ed. xxi. p. 296). 

48. Line 15: And make a OHK^UBR'D SHADOW on the 
ground.— SieerenM reminds us of Milton's 

many a maid 

Dancing in the chtquof'd skaete. 

— L'AUcgro, 95. 9& 
He might also have quoted Pope's 

And you my critics! in the che^ t eered shade. 

—The Dunciad. Iv. 11$. 

Compare too Windsor Forest* 17. 



ACT II. Scene S. 



NOTES TO TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT III. Scene 1. 



60. Lines 23, 24: 

When with a happy ttorm they were mrprU'd, 
And curtain' d with a eotmeel-keeping cave. 
The Kference is to Virgil, ^neid, iv. 160-172. 

61. line 31: Saturn i$ daininaU/r over min«.— The im- 
plication being that he (Aaron) is in no mood for love, 
since Saturn was the planet of hate and moroseness; cf. 
Much Ado, i. 8. 12: ''bom under Saturn." 

62. Line M: ihmUd DRIVE upon; ue. rush upon; but the 
word is very strange. A good correction is thrive. 

68. Line 75: Why are you siQUKSTSR'D.— Compare As 
Ton Like It, ii 1. 38, with note 36. 

64. Line 06: and baleful mUaletoe.— Baleful because 
<A the old superstition that the berries of the plant were 
poisonous; or perhaps because of the connection of mis- 
tletoe with the savage rites of Druidism. See Thiselton 
Dyer's Folldore of Shakespeare, p. 219. 

66. Line 07: or fatal raven. —The raven is always 
mentioned in some gloomy or opprobrious context: cf. 
Macbeth, L 5. 39; and Hamlet, iii. 2. 264: " the croaking 
raven doth bellow for revenge;" not to mention many 
other equally apposite passages. See Othello, note 181. 

66l Line 102 : Would inake tuch fearful atui cot\fu»ed 
me«.— Compare Bomeo and Juliet, iv. 3. 47, note 179. 

87. Line 149: the raven doth not hatch a lark. —The 
writer may have remembered Horace's 

neque Imbellem feroces 
ProKeneiant aquiUc cotumbam. 

— Odes, bk. It. 31, 33; 
i.*. " Nor do fierce eaigles breed the unwarlike dove.'* 

8& Line 187: »ee that you make her sure.— Properly 
to make iure=io affiance: thus Cotgrave gives "the be- 
trothing or making ture of a man and woman together" 
4U the equivalent of aceordaiUet. The expression is not 
smcommon; cf. for instance. The Jew of Malta, ii. 3. 239: 

That ye be both made sure ere you come out. 

In the present passi^ the irony is obvious. 

88. Line 231: 80 pale did thins the moon on Ptramus. 
—The story of Pyramus and Thisbe (for which see Mid- 
wunmer Night's Dream) is given in Ovid, Metamorphoses, 
iv. S5-16& For the pale moon, cf. Merchant of Venice, 
Y 1. 126, and Midsummer Night's Dream, ii. 1. 104. 

Ul Lines 286. 267: 

And wonder greatly that man's f<ue can fold 
In pleating tmUet tueh murderout tyranny. 
K«-«choed in Hamlet, i. 5. 108. 

n. line 287: How eatily murder it diteoveredl—AM 
^■Aoncelot says, "murder cannot be hid long" (Merchant 
^ Venice, iL 2. 87). So Marlowe's Edward II. v. 6. 46: 
I feared as much ; murder can not be kid 

—Works, vol. ii. p. 332. 

ACT II. SCBNB 4. 

A Line 6: the can scrowl. — VI. have teouH: tcrowl 
loob like a mistake for tcrawl, which, indeed, Delius 
resds. 

O. Line U'.lfTdo dream, Sec,—" If this be a dream. 



I would give all my possessions to be delivered from it 
by waking" (Johnson). 

64. Line 21: At have thy <ove.— Qq. and F. 1 and F. 2 
read htUfe : the quite certain correction is due to Theobald. 

66. Line 26: But, mtre, tome Tereut hath deJUmred thee. 
—Apart from Ovid's account (which wuuld be accessible 
in Oulding's translation) the story of Tereus must have 
been familiar to an Elizabethan audience from Oas- 
coigne's poem, The Complaynt of Philomene, 1576, re- 
printed by Arber with The Steele Glas. 

06. Line 46: And make the tilken ttringt delight to KISS 
them. —Compare Sonnet cxxviii. 1-4. 

67. Line 51: At Cerberus at the Thracian poet^sfeeL 
—Compare the great passage in the fourth Oeorgic— the 
Orpheus and Eurydice episode; in particular, line 483: 

tenuitque inhians tria Cerbenis ora; 
" and Cerberus held wide his triple mouth." 

ACT III. SCKSK 1. 

6a Line 11: Because they died in honour's LOFTY BED. 
—Compare Edward II. iv. 5. 7: 

And in this bed cf honour die with f.tme. 

—Marlowe, U. p. 196. 

69. Line 17: two ancient u RMS.— This is Hanmer's cor- 
rection of the old copies, which read niins. 

70. Line 22: So thou refute to drink my dear sont' blood, 
—The line is not unsuggestive uf III. Henry VI. ii. 3. 15: 

Thy brother's Hood the thirsty earth hath driiuk. 

71. Line 71: like N ills. —Referring, obviously, to the 
annual overflow of the Nile; so Antony and Cleopatra, 1. 
2. 50: " E'en as the o'erflowing yUut presageth famine." 
Shakespeare uses both forms, Niltis and Nile. 

72. Line 82: 0, that delightful engine of her thououts. 
—So Venus and Adonis, 367: 

Once more the eng-ine o/ktr thoughts began. 

73. Line 90: tome unrecurinq i^ound; i.e. some wound 
that cannot be cured, the use of the adjective being 
parallel to that of unexprettive in As You Like It, iii. 2. 
10. See Abbott, Granunar, p. 19. 

74 Line 91: my DEER.— Quibbling, perhaps, as Johnson 
suggested, on deer and dear, a pun that occurs several 
times; cf. Venus and Adonis, 231: 

1 11 be a park, and thou shah be my deer. 
So Macbeth, iv. & 206; Merry Wives, v. 5. 18; with other 
passages given by Schmidt 

76. Line 112: at doth the honey-dew.— This was "a 
secretion deposited by a small insect which is distinguished 
by the generic name of Aphis" (Thiselton Dyer, p. 86)l 

7& Line 149: At far from help at Limbo it from blittl— 
The full phrase. Limbo Patrum, occurs in Henry VIII. 
V. 4. 67, with which we may compare The Captain, iv. 2: 

all the rest. 
Except the captain, are in iimb0/atrum. 

—Beaumont and Fleteher, Works, iii. p. aSS. 

So Middleton's The Black Book: "I told him in plain 
terms that I had a warrant to search from the sheriff of 
Limbo" (Bullen's ed. viiL p. 12X 

303 



ACT III. 8O01M 1. 



NOTES TO TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT] 



77. Linet IfiO, 161: 

With all my heart, 1 'U tend the emperor 
My hand. 
Periiapt, with Capell, we ihoold uimnge thas: 
With all my heart 1 11 send the king my hand : 
kifig and emperor being throughout tlie pUy applied to 
the lame person. 

7& Line 170: the enemy'e CASTLK.— Oroee, in hia Trea- 
tiae on Ancient Armour, p. 248 (ed. 1801), says: "The eaetle 
was perhi^w a flgurative name for a close head-piece, de- 
duced from its enclosing and defending the head, as a castle 
did the whole body; or a corruption from the old French 
word eaequetel, a small or light helmet" This is decidedly 
vague, but it is all that can be quoted in favour of the 
reading eaetle. Theobald printed eaeque, Hanmer eaek, 
and WaUcer proposed ereet, 

79. Lines 203, 204: 

0, how thie viUany 

Doth /at me xeith the very thotights of it! 

Not unlike Faustus' exclamation when he has determined 

to sell himself to Mephistophelis, scene i. 76: 

How am I glutted with conceit of this. 

—Marlowe, i. p. ai6. 

80. Line 212: breathe the welkin dim. —We are re- 
minded of a line in Doctor Faustus, scene iii. 4: 

And diffis /Ae -welkin with her pitchy breath. 

— Marlowe's Works, i. p. 933. 

The Clown in Twelfth Night, iii. 1. 65, thought that wel- 
kin was much preferable to the more hackneyed eUmeat. 

81. Line 261: Rend of thy silver hair.—YoteUverttM 
an epithet applied to hair, cf. Troilus and Cressida, i. 8. 
296; and Sonnet xii. 4, note 20. 

82. Line 260: ^mf trotiU USURP UPON.— Compare the 
following from Florio's Montaigne: "in my youth, I ever 
opposed myselfe to the motions of love, which I felt to 
iuurpe upon me, and laboured to diminish its delights" 
(ed. 1682, p. 572;. In much the same way we find " com- 
mand upon;" e.g. in Macbeth, iii. 1. 16, 17: 

Let your highness 
Command uppu me. 

See Abbott, p. 127. 

83. Line 282: jLartnia, thou ehalt be employ'd in theee 
THINGS.— Qq. and F. 1 begin the line with and, a repeti- 
tion, perhaps, of the and in the previous verse. Qq. end 
the line with armee, which in the Folios is changed to 
things; upon this latter point the Cambridge editors have 
an ingenious note. "Perhaps," they say, "the original 
MS. liad as follows: 

An<l thou. I ovinia, shalt be imployii. 

Beare thou my hand sweet wench between thy teeth. 

The author, or some other corrector, to soften what must 
have been ludicrous in representation, wrote 'armes' 
above ' teeth ' as a substitute for the latter. The printer 
of the First Quarto took 'armes' to belong to the Arst 
line, and conjecturally filled up the lacuna with 'in tliese,' 
making, niso, an accidental alteration in the position of 
'thou.' Tlien a corrector of the Second Quarto, from 
which the i-'irst Fulio was printed, made sense of the 
passage by substituting 'things' for 'armes' (Cambridge 
Shakespeare, vi. p. 534j. 

304 



Acrr III. Sk^ENE 2. 

64. Line 4: that iorrow-wreathen KXOT; b 
folded arms; cf. Tempest, i. 2. 224: " Hia annt 
4-Moe.- 

86. Line 6: And cannot PASSIONATE ourtm^ 
Paeiionate here is equivalent to "pasaioDatel 
it does not occur elsewhere in Shakeqieara; 
in the Faerie Queene, bk. i. canto xii. stania : 

Great pleasure, mixt with pittiful ref^ard 
That goodly King and Queene did ^mjsi0m 
—Spenser's Works. Gld 

86. Line 12: map qf tnoe.—A common ton 
sion; see Richard II. note 281. 

67. Line 15: Wound it tcHh siohino.— Then 
mon idea that to sigh exhausted the strength 
various epithets applied to sighs, "blood-c 
"blood-drinking," "blood-sucking," Ac. 8e 
mer Night's Dream, note 184. 

88. Line 27: To BID .£nba8 tell, ^kc— Ceii 
ference to the opening lines of the second 1 
.£neid. 

89. Line 20: O, HANDLE not the theme, to tali 
-The same quibble occurs in TroUus and Or 
55: 

Handiest in thy discourse, O, that her kmtu 

90. Line 87: the drinks no other DRINK but T 
may remember Venus and Adonis, 040: 

Dost thou drink tears, that thou provok'st such si 

91. Line 54: thou kill's? my HEART.— Sot 
ii. 1. 02, the hostess says of FaUtafT: "The kin 
hU heart." 

92. Line 62: lamenting DOljios.— Theobald 
ingeniously enough, dolinge. 

93. Line 76: Yet. / think— Yet =wi yet, and 
tic position of the monosyllable makes it eqi 
two syllables; cf. Lear. i. 4. 865: 

Thouti^h I condemn not, ^-et. under pardon. 

94. Line 78: a coal-black Moor.— We find t 
several times in Shakespeare: e.g. in Lncrece, 1 
and Adonis. 588; Richard II. v. 1. 49. 80 Loc 
" all the coal-black Ethiopians ' (Doubtful Pla 

ACT IV. Scene 1. 

95. Line 12: CORNELIA never vith more ears.- 
we need scarcely say, was the mother of the 

96. Line 14: and Tully'e orator; i.e. Cicen 
De Oratore. 

97. Line 42: t is Ovid's Metamorphotee.—A \> 
apart from the fact of its use as a text-book in < 
of the time, was sufficiently familiar to Shaketp 
temporaries from Oolding's well-known transli 
lished in 1564. 

98. Line 46: What uanild she find t — Lavinx 
read f— In Qq. and Ff. the line stands as follow 

Hcipe her, what would she finde? Lauinia shall I 

It seems pretty clear that the words helpe her 
the stage-direction out of its place; the arran 
the text is that of Dyce. 



ACT IV. Scene 1. 



NOTES TO TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT IV. Sceue 3. 



99. Line 53: Fortid in the RUTHLESS, vast, and gloomy 
WOODS.— A curious touch of "pathetic fallacy." 

100. Lhiea 81. 82: 
Magni dominator poll. 

Tarn lentwt audig seelerat tarn UiUum videsf 
From the Hippolytua of Seneca, act ii. 071, where, how- 
ever, the first line runs rather dilTereutly— ifa^tur Jieg- 
ttator deum. 

101. Line t$9: the wo/ul FERE.— So Pericles, prologue 21. 
ITie word is variously spelt fere and pheere. Compare 
The Silent Woman, ii. 3: "lier that 1 mean to choose my 
hed-phcre." with Gitlord's note; Ben JousMm. Worlcs, iii. 
pp. 3ti5, 3j^). M r. Clmrton Collins prints yet another form 
in Tourneur's The Transformed Metamorphosis: 

Awake. O heav'n and all thy pow'rs <\wake. 
For I'an hatli !>ol(l hU flocke to Thetis' pUetr. 

— Cyril Tourneur's Works, ii. p. 204. 

For a further reference, see Hero and Leander, Fourth Ses- 
tiad, 227 (Marlowe's Works, iii. p. 60). 

102. Line 97: if the WIND you once. —As we should say, 
get wind of you, i.e. scent you; not elsewhere in Shake- 
speare. 

103. Line 103: gad 0/ steel.— Th&t is, a sharp point of 
metal. Gad and goad are cognate. For the phrase " upon 
the gad." see Lear, note 73. 

101 Line 105: Will blow theite sandit, like ^iBYL'shEAV^, 
ofrrrtaf/,— Referring obviously to ..Kneid, vi. 74. 75: 

I'oliis tantuni ne carinina manda, 
Nc turt>ata volent rapidis ludibria ventis: 

"Only entrust not your pruphctic words to leaves, lest they fly abroad 
the ^p«lrt of the wanton winds.." 

The speaker is .lilneas. who has gone to consult the Sibyl 
at Cumoc. I suppose this is the origin of Coleridge's title 
iur some of his poems— "Sibylline Leaves." 

105. Line 121): Revenge, ye henvenn, for old Androntcug f 
— Qq. an<l Kf. read Ueuenge the heaveim; the correction 
(nuule by Johnson) has been generally adopted. 

ACT IV. ScENK 2. 

106. Line 22: a verse, in Horacr. —The quotation is from 
the first JK>ok of the Odes, xxii lines 1, 2. 

107. Line 23: r*<j GRAMMAK—WTiat Grammar? Lilly's, 
which Shakespeare quotes from in Twelfth Night, ii. 3. 3? 

108. Line 27: WEAPO.ns wrapp'd ahoxtt %cith lines.— Ju%t 
as in King .J«dm. ii. 1. 227. we have "bullets wrapp'd in 
flre." an expression which in turn can be traced back to 
VUrlowes Jew of Malta, ii. 2. 54: 

We 11 s<»nd thee biiUrts wr.i/t in smoke and fire. 

— DuUen's cd. ii. p. 40. 

109. Line 31: let her REST in her UNREST awhile. —Com- 
pare Richard III. iv. 4. 29: 

Rtst thy unrest on England's lawful earth. 

Bee, too, the Sonnets, note 380. 

110. Line 43: A charitable wish, (!lcc.— Walker (Crit. Exam, 
ii p. 187) assigns this line to Aaron, and Dyce adopts Uie 
suggestion; unneceisarily, I think. 

111. Line 65: she 's the DEVIL'S dam— Compare I. Henry 
VI. i 6. 5: 

VOL. VII. 



Devil or detni's dam, 1 11 conjure thee. 

In Doctor Faustus (scene vi. 96, 97), Lucifer bids Faustus 

think of the Devi/, 

And of his dafn too. 

—Marlowe, i. p. 344. 

112. Line 89: by the burning TAPERS 0/ the SKY. —We 
may remem)>er how lago swears by the "ever-burning 
lights above;" see Otliello, note 16*9. 

113. Line 93: iwt E.VCKLADUS.- The " jaculator audax" 
of Horace. Odes, III. iv. 56; he was one of the Giants; cf. 
^neid, iii. 578. 

114. Line 94: Typhon's brood.— The more common form 
of the name was Typhoeus; see .Eneid, ix. 710: " Inarime 
. . . . imposta Typhoeo;' so bk. i. 665. lie toolwas 
one of the Giants who made war on the Gods. 

115. Line 98: ye alehouse painted signs I— A term of con- 
tempt which only occurs here and in another doubtful 
play, viz. II. Henry VI., where it is found twice— iii. 2. 81, 
and v. 2. 67. 

116. Line 119: 0/ another LEER. — For leer = tAce, see 
As You Like It, note 130. 

117. Line 152: Sot far, «tc. — Qq. and ¥t. hxive not farre, 
one Muliteus my Country-man. Some correction seems 
necessary: the reading here given is that of Steevens, 
adopted by the Globe ed. 

lia Lines 177. 178: 

I 'II make you FEED on berries and on roots, 
And FEED on curds and whey. 

It looks as if in one line or other feed were wrong; Han- 
mer substituted /ro^f in line 178. 

ACT IV. ScK.VK 3. 

119. Line 4: Terras Astnea rdiquit.—Vrom Ovid, Meta- 
mon)hoses. i. 149. 150: 

\'irt,i jaccl Pietas: cl virjfo cede niadentcs, 
I'ltiiiia ca:lcstum. terras .Isttaa rtliifnit. 
" Gooilnos lie:> conquered, iinil, last of the immortals, the virgin 
Astr.tra has left the hlo<xU:>t<iinc-l Citrtli." 

It is superfluous, perhaps, to add that " Astra^a Redux" 
furnished Dry den with the title of a poem, and that Peele 
was re8rK>nsible for Descensus Astrwa;. 

120. Line 29: And FEED his HUMOUR.— In Dido, Queen 
of Carthage, ill. 1. 50. we have: 

I jjo Xit/ftii the hutnour of my love. 

— Marlowe, ii. p. 3?-. 

121. Line 30: #om« CAKEFUL rfi/u-r/*/— It is tempting to 
follow Walker (Critic. Exam. iii. p. 221) and read easeful 

122. Lines 43, 44: 

I'll dice into the burning lake below, 
Aiui pull her otit of Acheron by th' heels. 

I*hi8 couplet is not unsuggestive of Marlowe's Tambur- 

laine, part II. ii. 4. 9s-100: 

And we descend into the infernal vaults. 
To hale the Fatal Sisters l>y the h.i>r, , 

And throw them in the triple moat of hell. 
, — Marlowe'^ Works. Hulicn's c«l. i. pp. 140, 141, 

with Uullen's note. 

123. Line 56: To Saturn, Caius,not to Saturnine .'—Qq. 

305 IW 



ACT IV. Soene 3. 



NOTES TO TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT V. SooDB 1 



and Ff. hare to Saturnine ^ to Caiiu; but Caioa, as Capell 
noticei, is one of Titus' Idnsmen. 

121 Line 65 : betond thb moon.— This seems to have 
been a proverbial expression for anything extravagant or 
out of reach; cl Hey wood's A Woman Killed With Kind- 
ness: 

But, oh ! I talk of thini^s impossibU, 
And cast beyond the tnoon. 

— Heywood's Select Plays, Mermaid ed. p. 53. 

Compare, too, Drayton. Eclogue, 5, quoted by Nares: 

whither art thou rapt 
Beyond the mocn, that strivest thus to strain t 

where rhapsody, extravagance of language, is the idea 
suggested. 

126. Line 92: the TRIBUNAL plebs. —As it stands a mean- 
ingless phrase ; probably a blunder for tribunus plebig. 

ACT IV. Scene 4. 

126. Line 11: in hig wreaks.— Wreaks, which Collier's 
313. Corrector altered to freaks, must here = fits of rage. 

127. Line 17: What 's this hut LIBELLING.- Lide/Zin^does 
not occur elsewhere in Shakespeare; ct however, Edward 
II. U. 2. 84, 35: 

What call you this but private libelling 
Again&t the Earl of Cornwall and my brother. 

— Marlowe, il. p. 155. 

128. Line 87: Thy life-blood out— So Qq. and F. 1; F. 2 
has ont. The text is not very satisfactory; I suppose it 
must mean " I have touched (i.e. as it were, lanced) thee 
to the quick, so that thy life-blood is out." 

129. Line 76: teas wronqfullt.— The adverb Is curious, 
but not without parallel; cf. Tempest, iL 1. 821: "That s 
verily. " It is easy to understand some participle from the 
context 

130. Lines 81-80: King, be thy thoughts, &c.— Professor 
Dowden(Shakspere Primer, p. 62) remarks that "no lines 
in the play have more of a Shaksperian ring" than these, 
and Mr. Swinburne speaks to the same effect 

131. Line 81: thy thoughts imperious. —For imperiou8= 
imperial, cf. Venus aud Adonis, 90G. In some places, e.g. 
in this play, i. 1. 250, imperial is substituted in the Folios 
for the imperious of the Quartos. So Hamlet, v. i. 236. 

132. Line 91: or honey-stalks to sheep. —Frohably by 
honey-stalks some sweet-tasted kind of clover is meant, 
and as Mr. Thiselton Dyer says "it is not uncommon for 
cattle to overcharge themselves with clover and die; hence 
the allusion by Tamora," which he proceeds to quote 
(Folklore of Shakespeare, p. 201). 

133. Line 113: 7A«n^ success antlt.— Changed to sue- 
ces^fuUy and ineeswntly, all three being, to my mind, 
equally pointless. 

ACT V. Scene 1. 

131 Line 42 : This is the PEARL that pleas'd your em- 
press' ETi;. —Alluding, says Malone, to the proverb, "A 
black man is a pearl in a fair woman's eye." Compare 
Two (Gentlemen of Verona, v. 2. 12: 

BlacJt mett are /earls In beauteous ladies eyes. 

306 



So in the Anatomy of Melancholy we find, "A blade ma* 
is a pearl in a fair unnnan's eye, and is as acceptable am 
lame Vulcan was to Venus."— The Ninth Edition of th» 
Anatomy (1800X voL ii. pp. 234, 235. 

135. Line 44: Say, wall-st'd slave.— 9o King John. It. 
3. 49: "vnUl-ey'd wrath," where see note 242. 

136. Line 88: LUXURIOUS uwmafi.— For {tuturiota^ lust- 
ful, see Troilua and Cresalda, note 298; and Much Ado, 
note 262. 

137. Line 102: as ever fought at head. —Compare di- 
grams by J. D., In Publium, xliiL 3-6: 

To Paris-Garden doth himself withdraw ; 
Where he is ravish'd with such delectation. 
As down amongst the bears and do^s he goes ; 
Where, whilst he skipping cries, "ta Mead, to Mead." 

— MarIowe*s W^orks, iiL p. 241. 

There to head evidently signifies the cry with which the 
dogs were encouraged; and Nares (ntft voce) mentions a 
very simUar phrase " to run on head," the sense being the 
same. 

138. Line 103: Well, let my deeds be witness of my tnntA 
—The confession, or rather boastful enumeration, of 
crimes, which follows, is entirely in Marlowe's manner; 
cf. The Jew of Malta, ii. 3. 177-215 (Bullen, ii. pp. 48, 49). 

139. Line 107: For up and dourn.— That is, "com- 
pletely;" cf. Much Ado, iL 1. 124, "Here's his dry hand 
up and down. " 

140. Line 119: She SWOONED.— So Folio 3; the earlier 
copies have sounded, a mistake, I suppose, for swcunded. 
The form swound = swoon is common enough ; cf. The 
Faerie Queene, bk. iv. canto viL st ix. 8, 9: 

She almost fell againe into a snwund, 

Ne wist whether above she were or under ground. 

—Spenser, Globe ed. p. 363. 

Thus we find in Dryden, Palamon and Arcite, bk. i. lines 
55,56: 

The most in years of ail the mourning train 
Began ; but STtvunded first away for pain ; 

where, by the way, Mr. Christie remarks (Globe ed. p. 513): 
"in the first folio edition the word is sounded, which 
must be a misprint for swounded," an interesting parallel 
to the present passage. Compare in the same poem, same 
book, line 587; also book ilL line 982. 

141. Line 121: What, canst thou say all this, and never 
blush f—&o Oxford asks in IIL Henry VL ill. 3. 95-97: 

Why, Warwick, canst thou speak against thy Uege. 
Whom thou obeyed'st thirty and six years. 
And not bewray thy treason with a blush t 

142. Line 122: Ay, like a black dog, <&c.— In Ray's Pro 
verbs, p. 218. 

143. Line 132: Make poor men's cattle fftKAY and break 
their necks.— The line as it stands in the copies is defec- 
tive ; Dyce adds the words stray and, which give good 
sense. 

ACT V. Scene 2. 

141 Line 8: Stage - direction. Enter Titus, above.— 
" From what ensues, it appears that Titus came out into 
the elevated balcony at the back of the stage" (OollierX 

146. Line 18: wanting a hand fo give it AOnON.— ' 



ACT V. Scene 3. 



NOTES TO TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



ACT V. Scene 3. 



Middleton refers to this line in hit father Hubburd'i Tales: 
*' Xevertheless, for all my lameiUable action qf one arm, 
like old Titus Andronieus, I could purchase no more than 
one month's pay" (Bullen's ed. of Middleton, viiL pp. 94, 

146. Line 19: Thou hast the odds qf me; i.e. advantage. 
Ck>mpare As You Like It, L 2. 109, with note 18. 

147. Lines 21-60.— Ck>leridge expresses the opinion that 
these lines were written by Shalcespeare " in his earliest 
period.** See the Lectures on Shakspere (Bohn's ed. 1884, 
p. 304). 

148. Line 48: And then I 'II come and be thy tpogoner, 
<frc.— This speech reads like a burlesque version of Her- 
cutio's "O, then, I see. Queen Mab hath been with you" 
(Romeo and Juliet, i. 4. 53-05). 

148. Line 52: And find out murderebs in their guilty 
CAVES.— Qq. and Ff. all have murder: Capell corrected. 
Also, Qq. and F. 1 read cares for caves. 

ISa Line 50: Hyperion's mi/i//.— The early copies make 
the most curious blunders over the name; both Quartos, 
for example, read Epson's. Shakespeare always acceuts 
the word on the second syllable, as in Hamlet, i. 2. 140 
and UL 4. 56. Strictly the penultimate syllable should 
be long. 

161. Line 172 : Hiis goodly summer with your vnnter 
mix'il.— Mr. Simpson (The School of Shakspere, i. p. 188) 
compares a line in The Play of Stukely, 754: 

Afix not my forward summer with sharp breath. 

152. Line 189: And of the ¥ASTE a coffin / wiU rear. 
—Cofin was regularly used of the crust of a pie; cf. The 
Staple of News, ii. 1: 

I love it still ; and therefore if you spend 

The red-deer //«/ in your house, or sell them forth, sir, 

Cskat so, that I may have their diffins oil 

Ketum'd here, and piled up. 

—Ben Jonson, v, p. 309. 

Shirley makes the word a verb; see The Sisters, ii. 2: 

Cold as the turkies coffined up in crust. 

— GiiTord's Shirley, v. p. 373, 

Compare, too, the foot-note on Tlie Taming of the Shrew, 
iv. 3. 82. 

153, Line 192: her own INCREASE.— That is, offspring, 
produce. Every one will recollect, " then shall the earth 
bring forth her iticrease." 

154 Line 204: the Centaurs' feast.— For a description 
uf the Centaurs at a banquet we may turn to Ovid, Meta- 
morphoses, ziL 219-535. They could not agree with the 
Upith». 

ACrr V. Scene 3. 

155. Line 13: The venomous malice o/mysteellingheartl 
-Obviously a variation on I. Henry VI. iiL 1. 25, 26: 

The king, thy sovereif^n, is not quite exempt 
FrotH envious malice o/thy sn-elling heart. 

156. Line 38: BscauM she was snforc'd.-^'Soi according 
to the legend; ct Hacaulay's poem in the Lays. 



157. Line 63: Tw true^ 'tis true; witness nty knife's 
sharp jTotne.— This is decidedly poor in comparison with 
Bavenscroft's brave couplet: 

Thus cramm'd, thou *rt bravely fatten'd up for hell. 

And thus to Pluto I do serve thee up. [Studs the emfrtss. 

— Var. Ed, xxi. p. 373. 

168. Line 81: ht did discourse, <Sic.— Compare The Tra- 
gedy of Dido, Queen of Carthage, ii. L 143 to end of act 
(Marlowe, ii. pp. 322-S29X 

169. Line 80: the FATAL ENOINE. - Referring, of course, 
to the story of the Trojan horse. 

160. Line 124: Damn'd as he w.— Qq. and Ff. read^nd; 
the correction is due to Theobald, who reminds us of Bra- 
bantio's 

O thou foul thief, where hast thou stow'd my daut^hter? 
Damn'd as thou art, thou hast enchanted her. 

— (JtheUo, I. 3. 63, 63. 

The Globe edition, while printing the old reading, marks 

the line as corrupt 

161. Line 149: GIVE me Am. -To give aim was a phrase 
signifying "to direct;" it is fully explained by Qifford in 
a note on ^lassinger's Bondman, I 3, and the substance of 
his explanation is this: "he vrhogave aim was stationed 
near the butts, and pointed out, after every discharge, liuw 
wide or how short the arrow fell of the mark" (Oiflord's 
Massinger. ii. p. 25). The expression, therefore, as we 
see, came from archery ; its use may be illustrated by va- 
rious passages; e.g. The Spanish Oipsy. ii. 1. 92 : "I can 
tell you great bubbers (i.e. bibbers) have shot at me, and 
shot golden arrows, but I myself gac^ aim" (Bullen's Mid- 
dleton, vL p. 139X So A Mad World My Masters, L 1. 116, 
117: 

plotting; his own .ibuse. 
To which himself iTOvr aim. 

— Middleton's Work«, iii. 258. 

and Edward I.: 

Good master, an if you love the friar. 
Gilt aim awhile, I you ile&ire. 

— Dyce's Greene & Peele, p. 403. 

Compare also Dyce's Webster (1877), page 20; and note 
the parallel expression "to cry aim" in King John, ii. 
1. 106 (note 87); and Merry Wives, iii. 2. 45. 

162. Line 182: This is our doom.— The revised Restora- 
tion version of Titus Andronicus provided a robuster, 
more romantic form of poetic justice. In Steevens' words. 
" That Jiutice and cookery may go hand in hand to tlie 
conclusion of the play, in Ravenscroft's alteration of it, 
Aaron is at once racked and roasted on the stage."— Var. 
Ed. vol. xxi. p. 37& 

163. Line 204: may ne'er it ruinate.— So Lucrece, 944: 

To ruinate proud buildings with thy hours. 

Also in Sonnet x. 7: 

Seeking that beauteous roof to ruinate. 

Compare, too, Marlowe, The Massacre at Paris, scene 2. 71 : 

If I repair not wliat he ruinates. 

—Works, iL p. 344. 

307 



WORDS PECULIAR TO TITUS ANDRONICUS. 



WORDS OCCURRING ONLY IN TITUS ANDRONICUS. 

N(^TE. — Tlie addition of sub. adj. verb, adv. in brackets immediately after a word indicates tliat the word is 
used as a substantive, adjective, verb, or adverb, only in the passage or passages cited. 

The compound words marked with an asterisk (*) are printed as two separate words in F. L 



Act Sc. Line 

•A-bed» iv. 2 02 

AbJecUy ii. 3 4 

Alphabet iii. 2 44 

Anchorage 1. 1 73 

Architect v. 3 122 

Aries iv. 3 71 

Auditory v. 3 00 

Battle-axe .... iii. 1 1G9 

BayMsub.).... il. 2 3 

Beast-like v. 3 IIK) 

Bewet iii. 1 140 

Big-boned iv. 3 40 

Blowse iv. 2 72 

Bonjour L 1 4d4 

* Breast-deep . . v. 8 179 

*Bright-buruiug iii. 1 00 

Cabin "(verb)., iv. 2 170 

Chaps* V. 3 77 

Chased (sub.)., ii. 8 255 

Chilling ii. 8 212 

Cimmerian ii. 3 72 

Cleanly* (adv.). ii. 1 04 

Closure? v. 3 134 

Codding v. 1 00 

Compassion (vb.) iv. 1 124 

Complainer iii. 2 30 

Continence i. 1 15 

Counsel-keeping ii. 3 24 

Crevice v. 1 114 

Dawning (verb) ii. 2 10 

*Deadly-8tandiug ii. 3 32 

Devoid v. 3 100 

Devourers iii. 1 57 



1 ** bruught a-btd " — dclivw- 
ed; » in be<l, iu other poMage*. 

3 — bftrkiug : f ru<iueutly used 
elsewhere io other aeiues. 

3 — tu lodgv ; Mtu'b. iii. 4. 94. 

4 — wriiiklcH, cmclu; Lucrvce, 
145S. 

" » Kr»uml stured with ffaiue; 
ukmI iu other senses elsewhere. 

* — quite, entirely, Venus and 
Adonis, AM; » without stain, I. 
Ueiinr IV. V. 4. IW. 

' — conclusion, end. 



Act 8c Line 

Dismalle8t....i ** i ^* 
1 IL 3 204 

Dreary i 1 801 

Drought iii. 1 10 

Effectually 8... . iv. 4 107 

Egal iv. 4 4 

•Elder-tree. . . . IL 3 272. 277 

Empcrial* \\^- ^ ^ 

^ (iv. 4 40 

Enacts (sub.)., iv. 2 118 

Execrable v. 3 177 

Extentio iv. 4 3 

•Fatal-plotted ii. 3 47 

Feebleness i. 1 188 

Flourish" (verb) iv. 2 40 

Footman" v. 2 65 

"Foul-spoken .. ii. 1 58 

Franticly".... ui. 2 81 

Gad" (sub.).... iv. 1 103 

Qibbet-maker.. iv. 8 80 

Gleeful U. 3 11 

Grammar iv. 2 23 

Hay-stacks v. 1 133 

Headless !».... L 1 180 

''Highest-peering ii. 1 8 

*High-resolved iv. 4 04 

•High-witted . . iv. 4 85 

•Honey-dew... Ui. 1 112 

*^Honey-stalka. iv. 4 01 

Homing (verb) ii. 3 67 

Interrupter.... i. 1 208 

Languor iii. 1 13 

^* efficaciously; » in reality. 
Sun. cxiii. 4. 

» Used by the Clown. 

lu » appUoation. use, mainten- 
ance; in other senses the word 
ixx-urs four times. 

11 Of trumpets. 

U — a hired runner. 

13 Venus and Adouis, 1059. 

!'( — a shari' point of raetat; » 
spur (of the moment), Leur, i. 2. 
2& 

16 _ having no chief. 

308 



Act Sc. Line 

LibelUng iv. 4 17 

Love-day L 1 401 

Lovingly i 1 166 

*Lurking-place v. 2 86 

•Man-of-war i« iv. 8 22 

Martyred (adj.) iii. 2 36 

Massacre (verb) L 1 460 

Meshed. liL 2 88 

Mightful iv. 4 6 

Miller ii. 1 86 

Misbelievhig . . v. 8 143 

Mistletoe ii. 8 05 

Mistress-ship., iv. 4 40 

New-shed. ii. 3 200 

*Ncw-transformedii. 3 04 

Nice-preserved . . ii. 8 135 

Obscurity".... v. 2 Zn 

Overshade IL 8 273 

Palliament . . . . L 1 182 

Pantheon L 1 242,833 

/ i. 1 403 

Panther i ii 2 21 

< Ii. 8 104 

Passionate (verb) UL 2 6 

Patient (verb). . 1 1 121 

Plebs iv. 3 92 

Plotter V. 3 122 

Popish V. 1 70 

Rapine v. 2 60. 

62, 88. 103 

*Raven- coloured ii. 3 83 

Remunerate... i. 1 308 

Reproachful...-! }• ^ ^^'^ 

^ ( U. 1 66 

Re-salute i. 1 75,326 

^Rude-growing ii. 3 190 

Rue i« (verb) .. i 1 105 

*8ad-attendlng v. 8 82 

*Sad-f aced v. 8 67 



l< — a ship of war. 
17 Venus and Adonis, 780. 
1$ 1- to pity; used elsewhere in 
its ordinary sense. 



Act 8c. Liue 

Scrowl ii. 4 5 

♦Sea-salt: Iii. 2 20 

*Shallow.hearted iv. 2 97 

Sheaf i» (sub.)., v. 3 71 

Shive ii. 1 87 

8moke«o iv. 2 111 

Somewhither., iv. 1 11 

Sorrow- wreathen iii. 2 4 

Stanch (verb)., iii. 1 14 

Substituted*!.. Iv. 2 150 

Successantly. . . iv. 4 113 

Sumptuously .. L 1 851 

Surance v. 2 46 

SwarUi(adj.).. ii. 8 72 

Thick-lipped . . iv. 2 175 

Thrash M U. 3 123 

Ticed U. 8 92 

Trenches « .... v. 2 23 

*True-)>etrothed i. 1 406 

•rrue-divining.. IL 3 214 

Unappeased . . . L 1 100 

Uncurls ii. 3 34 

Unrecuring.. .. iii 1 90 

Unroll Ii. 3 35 

Uusearched iv. 3 22 

Uprightness... i 1 46 

Vaunter v. 3 113 

Venereal ii. 3 37 

*>Vaggon- wheel v. 2 54 

Weighed 24.... i 1 73 

Weke! iv. 2 14*5 

«WeU-tuned>« ii. 3 18 

Whey iv. 2 178 

White-limed... iv. 2 98 

Wind-J^verbX. iv. 1 97 

l» The pi. occtiTs in Son. xii. 7. 

«> — to suffer. 

Si A1m> in I. Henry IV. i. S. n4. 

23 i.e. com ; * to beat, drub. 
Tn>ilus, ii. 1. 61. 

S3 r.. furrows on the cheeks, 
wrinkles; used figuratively bens 
and in Son. ii. 2. 

34 Of an anchor. 

B Lucrece, 1060; Bern. Till. i. 

» — to soe&t. 



THE WINTEE'S TALE. 



NOTES AND INTRODUCTION BY 
ARTHUR SYMONS. 



DRAMATIS PERSONiE. 

Leontes, King of Sicilia. 
Mamillius, young Prince of Sicilia. 
Camillo, ^ 

AnTIQONUS, ro-i- 

VFour Lords of Sicilia. 

CL£0M£N£8, I 

Dion, J 

PoLiXENES, King of Bohemia. 

Florizel, Prince of Bohemia. 

Arcuidamus, a Lord of Bohemia. 

Old Shej)herd, reputed father of Perdita. 

Clown, his sou. 

AuTOLYCUS, a rogue. 

A Mariner. 

A Gaoler. 

Hekmione, queen to Leontes. 

Perdita, daughter to Leontes and Hermione. 

Paulina, wife to Antigonus. 

Emilia, a lady attending on the Queen. 

' hShepheixlesses. 
Dorcas, / 

Other Lords and Gentlemen, Ladies, Officers, and Servants, Shepherds, and Shepherdesses. 

Time, as Chorus. 



Scene — Partly in Sicilia and partly in Bohemia. 



Historic Period: Indefinite. 



TIME OF ACTION. 

The time of this play, according to Mr. Daniel, comprises eight days represented on the 
stage, with intervals. 



Day 1 : Act I. Scones 1 and 2. 
Day 2: Act II. Scene 1. — Interval of 23 days. 
Day 3 : Act II. Scenes 2 and 3 ; Act III. Scene 1. 
Day 4: Act III. Scene 2. —Interval (Antigonus* 
voyage to Bohemia). 



310 



Day 5 : Act III. Scene 3.— Interval (Act IV. Scono 1) 

of 16 years. 
Day 6 : Act IV. Scenes 2 and 3. 
Day 7 : Act IV. Scene 4. — Interval (the journey to 

Sicilia). 
Day 8 : Act V. Scenes 1, 2, 3. 



THE WINTEE'S TALE. 



INTRODUCTION. 



LITERARY HISTORY. 

The Winter's Tale was iii-st printed in the 
Folio of 1623, where it is pbiced last among 
the comedies. In the diary of Dr. Simon 
Forman, among the Ashmole MSS. in the 
Bodleian, thei*e is a curious reference to a per- 
formance of this j>lay at the Globe in 161 1 : 

" In the Winters f alle at the glob, 1611, the 
15 of maye. Obserue ther howe Lyon tea the 
Kiuge of Cicillia was overcom with lelosy of 
his wife with the Kiiige of Bohemia, his 
frind, that came to see him, and howe he con- 
triued his death, and wold haue had his cup- 
berer to haue poisoned, who gaue the King of 
bohemia warning ther-of, & fled with liim 
to bohemia | Kemember also howe he sent to 
the Orakell of ap]x>llo, & the Aunswer of 
!4X)llo, that she was giltles, and that the King 
was lelouse, &c, and howe Except the child 
was found Again that was loste, the Kinge 
ahouhl die with-out yssue, for the child was 
caried into bohemia, & ther laid in a forrest, 
& brought vp by a shepimixi. And the Kinge 
of bohemia his sonn maried tliat wentch, & 
howe they fled in Cicillia to Leontes, and the 
aheppard hauing showed the letter of the 
nobleman by whom Leontes sent away that 
child, and the lewelles found about her. she 
was kuoweu to be leontes daughter, and was 
then 16 yers old. 

"^ Rememl>er also the Bog. that cam in all 
tottered like coll pixci | and howe he feyned 
him sicke & to haue bin Bobbed of all that 
he had, and how he cosened the por man of 
all his money, and after cam to the shop sher 
with a |>edlerH ])acke, & ther cosene<l them 
Again of all ther money. And how he clianged 
apparrell with the Kinge of bomia his sonn, 
and then how he turned Courtiar, &c | beware 
of truatinge feined beggara or fawninge fel- 
louse" (Ashmole MSS. 208, pj). 201, 202). 



This entry shows that the Winter's Tale 
was being j)layed in the early part of 1611. A 
memontndum in the Office Book of Sir Henry 
Herbert, Miister of the Bevels, gives some 
ground for supposing that it wafi then a new 
play. The entry is as follows: 

"For the King's players. An olde playe 
called Winters Tale, formerly allowed of by 
Sir George Bucke, and likewyse by mee on 
Mr. Hemmings his worde that there was no- 
thing prophane added or reformed, thogh the 
allowed booke was missinge; and therefore I 
returned itt without a fee, this 19 of August, 
1623." 

Sir Greorge Bucke, though he is known to 
have licensed plays at an earlier period, did 
not obtain his official appointment till August, 
1610; so that it is not im])robable that the 
play was licensed at the end of that year, or 
early in 1611. 

A passage in the Induction to Ben Jonson's 
Bartholomew Fair, 1614, has been thought to 
be a side-hit at the Winter's Tale and the Tem- 
pest : " If there be never a servant-monster i' the 
Fair, who can hel]) it? he says; nor a nest of 
Antiques. He is loth to make nature afraid in 
his plays, like those that beget Tales, Tempests, 
and such like drolleries." If this is really 
meant for Shakespeare, I fail to see anything 
at all spiteful in it; nor can the remark made 
to Drummond in 1619, and carefully noted 
down by that diligent ])er8on, be thought sur- 
prising, or even reidly ill-natured, from so 
scrupulous a preserver of the unities, and, in 
his own way, so thorough an artist, as Ben 
Jonson. ** He said," Drummond notes, " that 
Shakespeai'e wanted art and sometimes sense; 
for in one of his plays he brought in a num- 
ber of men saying they had sufiered shipwreck 
in Bohemia, where is no sea near by 100 miles.'* 

The sources of Shakesi>eare'8 plot are to be 
found in a tale of Greene's, named in 1588, 

311 



THE WINTEK'S TALE. 



when it was first published, Pandosto, the 
Triumph of Time, but re-christened in 1636, 
The Historic of Dorastus and Fawnia. It was 
extremely popular, and was reprinted in edi- 
tion after edition, till in 1735 it attained the 
seventeenth in the form of a chap-book. Its 
popularity was natural. The style is a modi- 
fication of the fashionable euphuism of the 
day, sufficiently euphuistic to please by its 
ornamentation, but not so overloaded with 
conceits as to swamp the story. With the 
story itself, in its main outlines, we are all 
familiar. Shakespeare has followed the nar- 
rative, at all events the first part of it, very 
closely Certain verbal resemblances will 
be pointed out in the notes; they are slight 
enough, and of little importance. As for human 
interest, the old story has but little of it, and 
at the most but scanty hints for the conception 
or development of the dramatis personse. 
Words here and there in the speeches of Bellaria 
(Shakespeare's Hermione) may have thrown 
out a fructifying hint or two; and Pandosto 
affords some traits of Leontes. But practically, 
for all the characters as characters, and for the 
invention of Paulina and her husband, Auto- 
lycus and the shephenl's son, Shakespeare 
alone is responsible. In following the narra- 
tive with an almost conscientious exactness, 
atlopting and dramatizing the smallest sugges- 
tion, he at the same time replaces several awk- 
ward contrivances of Greene by much more 
probable and dranuitic exi)edients. The whole 
conclusion is entirely remodelled ; Greene 
makes Pandosto first fall in love with his un- 
recognized daughter, and then, after the recog- 
nition has been Imppily effected, the recon- 
ciliation of the kings and the marriage of their 
children brought about, Pandosto, for no con- 
ceivable purpose, has a return of his moody 
madness, and kills himself, so "closing up the 
Comedie with a Tragicall stratageme." In 
Pandosto the injured queen really dies; and it 
is for this imix)rtant moilifiwition of the origi- 
nal story that Shakespeare invented the char- 
acter of Paulina. Autolycus, a roguish deus 
ex machi/Hty is invented in order to bring about 
the final explanations, which in Pandosto are 
very tamely effected. Shakespeare has boldly 
accepted all Greene's anachronisms, and luis 

312 



even added to them. For some not very- 
obvious reason he has exactly transposed th<^ 
kings and kingdoms as we have them in the^ 
novel, so that Pandosto, king of Bohemia,, 
becomes Leontes, king of Sicily, and Egistus, 
king of Sicily, appears as Polixenes, king oF 

Bohemia. 

STAGE HISTORY. 

The first recorded performance of The Win- 
ter's Tale took place at the Globe Theatre^ 
15th May, 1611, when it was seen by Dr. 
Simon Forman, who, as in the case of Mac- 
beth and Cymbeline, is at the pains to give 
the plot. Its first appearance on the stage 
probably belongs to the previous year. Sir 
Henry Herbert mentions it in the oflice-book 
under the date 19th Aug. 1623, as ** an olde 
playe called Winters Tale, formerly allowed 
of by Sir George Bucke, and likewyse by mee . 
on Mr. Hemmings his worde that there was 
nothing prophane added or reformed, thogh 
the allowed booke was missinge ; and therefore 
I returned itt without a fee." Sir George 
Bucke, who obtained, in 1603, a reversionary 
grant of the office of the Master of the Revels, 
expectant on the death of Tylney, who died 
in 1610, "did not really succeed to the office, 
as is shown by documents at the Rolls, before 
August, 1610; in short, a few weeks previously 
to the decease of Tylney" (Halliwell-Phillii)p8. 
Outlines, ii. :300. Ed. 1886). As Deputy to 
the Master of the Revels, Sir George licensed 
dramas for publication some years j)reviou8ly, 
and probably for acting also. Mr. Fleay 
states that his powers to "allow" plays dated 
from 1607 onwards (Life of Shakespeare, 247). 
He does not dispute, nor does he mention, 
what Halliwell-Phillippe takes for granted, 
that the comedy was not produced until after 
the month of August, 1610. Mr. Fleay also 
believes it to be, with the Tempest, Shake- 
speare's last play, and adds," He(Shakespeare) 
began his career with the Chamberlain's com- 
pany (after his seven years' apprenticeship 
in conjunction with others, 1587-94) with a 
Midsummer Dream (sic), he finishes with a 
Winter's Tale, and so his play-wright's work 
is rounded ; twenty-four years, each year an 
hour in the brief day of work, and then the 
rounding with a sleep " (ib. 249, 260). 



INTRODUCTION. 



) fact in counection with the performance, 
3t that it took place at the **Glob/* is 
liclecl by Forman, who little knew how 
•e ages would grudge him his reticence. 
i period of one hundred and thirty years 
lear nothing further. In the revival of 
est in thingH theatrical following the 
oration it had no share; it is uumentioneil 
libber in his " Apology " and by Pepys 
s ** Diary," and is not included among the 
'als of Betterton. This neglect was pro- 
f due to the fact that the defiance of 
unities was such as daunted the seven- 
ih-century sticklers for such observance, 
wholly loss is it, at least, that Drydeu, 
tenant, Tate, and ShadweU, and the entire 

of patchers, botchers, and manglers left 
merely alone. 

', Goodmans Fields on 15th Jan. 1741, 
ter's Tale, written by Shakespeare, and 
unced as not acted one hundred years, 
clayed, the tickets being advertised as one, 
and three shillings. Far from a strong 
was that assigned it. Goodmans Fields 
a second-nit^ theatre, which had been 
jferred from Odell, the dramatist, to Gif- 

had not yet been open more than a dozen 
I, and was to wait, in order to become 
U8, for the advent of Garrick. As the 
recorded cast, however, the names of the 
»rmers may be given in full. These were 
Uows: — 



Leontcs 


— 


Giffard (the manager). 


Polixenos 


^: 


Marshall. 


Florizel 


:^ 


W. Giffard. 


Caniillo 


« 


Paget 


Antix^nus 


13 


Walker. 


Shepherd 


^z 


Julian. 


Autolycus 


^ 


Yates. 


Clown 


^z 


DuDHtall. 


Heruiione 


2^ 


Mrs. Giffard. 


Perdita 


13 


Miss Hippisley. 


Pauliua 


ZH 


Mrs. StccL 


Emilia 


__ 


Mrs. Yates. 


Mop.sa 


IZ 


Mrs. Dunstjill. 


Dorcaa 


— 


Mrs. Jones. 



ith the exception of Gifl'ard and his wife, 
were res|)ectable actors, and Yates, who, 
gh destined to develop into an admirable 
Hlian, was then in a chrysalis stat«, there 
tie in the performers to arrest attention, 



and nothing is known concerning a represen- 
tation that should yet have had some interest 
if only on the score of novelty. 

When once its merits received the illumina- 
tion of the stage, the piece was not allowed to 
sleep. Writing forty years later, Tom Da vies, 
while asserting the superiority of Shake8i)eare 
over Fletcher, and expressing the judicious 
opinion that, without considerable alterations, 
fine music, gay scenes, beautiful decorations, 
and excellent j^erformers, he would not, in 
those " cultivated times," hazard The Faithful 
Shepherdess upon a London stage, says : " It 
will give strength to my argument in favour 
of the superior skill of Shakspeare to govern 
the spirit of the public, to observe, that the 
pastoral part of The Winter's Tale, Florizel 
and Perdita, without any assistance from the 
antients, or of modern Italy, perpetually 
triumphs over the passions of an Englisli 
auditory" (Dramatic Miscellanea, ii. 401). 
It was of Garrick's adaptations from Shake- 
speai-e, however, rather than of the ix)et'8 own 
work, that Davies was speaking. 

Covent Garden was not long in following 
the lead of Goodmans Fields. It produce*! 
The Winter's Tale on Uth Nov. 1741, and 
acted it on the four following days. Later 
in the season, 21st Jan. 1742, it was once 
more given. The cast of the first revival is 
not given. It probably did not difier greatly 
from that of the second, which, so far as it is 
preserved, was as follows: — 



Leontes 


— 


Stephens. 


Polixenes 


zz, 


Ryan. 


Florizel 


zz 


Hale. 


Camillo 


3Z 


Bridge water. 


Antigouus 


^^ 


Rosco. 


Clown 


■^ 


HippiMley. 


Autolycus 


rr 


Chai>man. 


Hormiono 


^z 


Mrs. llortoiL 


Perdita 




Mrs. Hale. 


Paulina 


= 


Mrs. Pritcliard 



When first seen at Drury Lane The Winter's 
Tale was in Garrick a alteration. It was then, 
21st Jan. 1750*, announced as "A Comedy 
altered from Shakespeare, called The Winter s 
Tale, or Florizel and Penlit«." To this ver- 
sion was prefixed a prologue by Ganick, 
written in that tone of mingled depreciation 

313 



THE WINTERS TALE. 



of censure and eulogy of self which distin- 
guishes the trespassers upon Shakespeare's 
domain, among whom Garrick ranks as a 
chief offender. After bidding the spectators 
welcome to a hostelry which he calls the 
'* Shakespeare's Head/' and poking some not 
very humorous fun at 

The learned Critics brave and deep 
Who cutch at words and, catching, fall asleep, 

he explains what has been his task in the fol- 
lowing disingenuous lines: — 

The five long acts from which our three are taken, 
Stretched out to sixteen years, lay by forsaken. 
Lost then this precious liquor run to waste, 
*Tis now confiu'd and bottled for your taste. 
*T is my chief wish, my joy, my only plan, 
To lose no drop of that immortal man. 

—Poetical Works of Garrick, 1785, i. 142. 

The sixteen years refers, of course, to the 
period over which the action of The Winter's 
Tale extends. As to losing no drop of Shake- 
speare Garrick spilled more than half of his 
work. Garrick, who played Leontes, spoke 
the prologue. The remainder of the cast was 
as follows: — 



Florizel 


ZZZ 


Holland. 


Polixenes 


zz 


Havard. 


Camillo 


^^ 


Davies. 


Clown 


^^ 


Woodward. 


Autolicus {sic) 


z^ 


Yates. 


Hermione 


^^ 


Mrs. Pritchard 


Perdita 


Z3 


Mrs. Cibber. 


Paulina 


^^B 


Mrs. Bennett. 



The representation was a thorough success. 
Mrs. Cibbei-'s singing as Perdita took the 
town. Mrs. Pritchard and Woodwaitl were 
said to be excellent, and Yates almost ideal 
Garrick's own acting, especially in tlie statue 
scene, is declared to have been masterly. 
Garrick's additions are, of course, contemp- 
tible. A verse of one of Perdita's songs sup- 
plies one of the most characteristic stories in 
Boswell's Johnson. The verse is as follows: — 

That giant ambition we never can dread, 
Our roofs are too low for so lofty a head ; 
Content and sweet cheerfulness open our door. 
They smile with the simple, and feed with the poor. 

Praising Garrick's talent for light, gay 
poetiy, Mi's. Thrale repeated the poem from 

314 



which the above is taken, and dwelt with 
emphasis on the line, which she misquoted, 

I 'd smile with the simple, and feed with the door. 

" Nay, my dear lady," said Johnson, " this 
will never do. Poor David smile with the 
simi)le; — what folly is that? And who would 
feed with the poor that can help it? No, no; 
let me smile with the wise and feed with the 
rich." The comment repeated to Garrick 
caused him considerable annoyance (see Boti- 
well's Johnson, ed. Birkbeck Hill, ii. 79). 
The story is worth quoting as illustrative of 
the kind of tinsel with which Garrick would 
"gild" the **i*efined gold" of Shakespeai^. 

In Garrick's play the jealousy of Leontes, 
the death of Hermione, and the exposure of 
Perdita are narrated at the outset by Camillo. 
In an attempt at correctness the scene is 
changed from Bohemia to Bitliynia. 

Garrick had not been the hi'st to hit ufxin 
the idea of shorteniug the story of The Winter's 
Tale. For Barry's benefit at Covent Garden 
on 25th March, 1754, The Sheep-shearing, or 
Florizel and Peixlita, attributed to Macnaniara 
Morgan, author of the tragedy of Philoclea, 
was produced. In this the action is princi- 
pally concerned with the love-making between 
Florizel and Perdita and the rogueries of Au- 
tolicus (sic). The additions are in wretched 
taste, but the whole hit the public taste and was 
not infrequently revived. Barry was Florizel, 
Miss Nossiter Perdita, Shuter Autolicus, and 
Sparks Alcou. To finish with this mutilation 
it may be said that on 1 3th March, 1758, Mr& 
Bellamy was Perdita to the Florizel of Barry, 
who the following day resigned the part to 
Smith. On 12th April, 1774, at Drury Lane, 
Cautherley was Florizel, King Autolicus, and 
Mrs. Canning Perdita. So Genest. It is not 
quite clear, however, that this was not Gar- 
rick's pky. Moody was the Clown. On 11th 
Feb. 1790, at Covent Garden, Holmau was 
Florizel, King (for his benefit) Autolicus, Aikiu 
Polixenes, Hull Antigonus, Powell Camillo, 
Cubit Clown, and Miss Brunton Perdita. Miss 
Murmy made at Covent Garden, 12th May, 
1798, her first appearance on the stage as 
Perdita, Munden being Autolicus, Murray 
Polixenes, and Holman once more FlorizeL 



INTRODUCTION. 



A fresh adaptation, with the same title, was 
acted ouce at the Haymarket in 1777. Edwiu 
was Autolicus, Jacksou Clown, Du Bellamy 
Florizel, Bannister Servant, Mrs. CoUis Per- 
dita, and Mi*s. Poussin Paulina. It was repro- 
duced, 20th Aug. 1783, with Mi-s. Bannister as 
Perdita, Bensley as Polixenes, and Bannister, 
jun., in Florizel. To 1756, when it was ])rinted 
in 8vo, belongs an alteration of The Winter's 
Tale by Charles Marsh. In this vei-sion, as 
in Gar rick's, the iii-st fifteen years of Shake- 
speare's action are cut off, and the scene is 
transferred from Bohemia to Bithynia. Some 
resentment against Garrick for preferring his 
own rendering is said to have been felt by 
Marsh. As his adaj>tation was never acted, 
Mr. Marsh may be left to the protection of 
his obscurity. 

Before returning to Shakespeare's play the 
principal repetitions of Garrick's adaptation 
may conveniently be dismissed. It was revived 
at Drury Lane 27th Jan. 1762, with Garrick, 
Holland, Yates, Mrs. Pritchard, and Mrs, 
Cibber in their former characters, and King as 
the Clown; and produced for the first time at 
Oovent Garden for Woodward's benefit, 12th 
March, 1774. Smith was the Leontes, Lewis 
Florizel, Bensley Polixenes, Hull Camillo, 
Woodward the Clown, and Quick Autolicus. 
^liss Dayes, an actress of little note, was 
Perdita, and "the beautiful" Mra. Hartley 
Hermione. Mrs. Bobinson played Perdita 
and Mrs. Hartley Hermione at Drury Lane 
20th Nov. 1779; and eleven days later Miss 
Farren for the first time essayed Hermione. 
About this time the adaptation was at the 
height of its populaiity. Heudei^son played 
Leontes for the first time at Coveut Garden 
19th May, 1783, with Aikin also for the first 
time as Polixenes, Lewis as Florizel, Edwin 
as Autolicus, Quick as Clown, Miss Satchell, 
ftabsequeutly Mrs. Elizabeth Kemble, as Per- 
dita, and Mrs. Yates for the first time as Her- 
luioiie. For Mrs. Wilson's benefit it was given 
at Drury Lane 1st May, 1788. Wroughton 
was Leontes, Bensley Polixenes, Barrymore 
Florizel, Dodd Autolicus, Suett Clown, Miss 
Farren Hermione, and Mrs. C*i'ouch Peixlita. 
It reap|>ear8 at Co vent Garden Uth May, 
1 792, with Harley as Leontes, Holman as Flori- 



zel, Munden as Autolicus, Quick as Clown, 
Mrs. Pope as Hermione, and Mi-s. Mountain 
for the first time as Perdita, and at the same 
house disappears finally so far as records can 
be traced on 22nd December, 1795, when Pope 
was Leontes, Holman Florizel, Harley Polix- 
enes, Mrs. Pope Hermione, and Miss Wallis 
Perditii. 

Shakespeare's Wintei-'s Tale, announced as 
not having been acted for thirty years, was 
revived at Covent Garden 24th April, 1771, 
the occasion being the benefit of Hull, who 
played Camillo and Chorus; Mrs. Hull was, 
" by i)articular desire," Paulina. Other fea- 
tures of interest were the Hermione of Mrs. 
Mattocks and the Perdita of Mrs. Bulkeley. 
Du Bellamy was Autolycus and Kniveton the 
Old Shepherd. 

Another long pause appears to have occurred 
before, on 25th March, 1802, it was revived at 
Drury Lane by Kemble. An interesting cast 
may be given. It was as follows: — 

Leoutcs = Kemble. 

Florizel =: C. Kemble. 

Polixeuos = Barrymore. 

Camillo = Powell 

Antigoims — Dowton. 

Autolycus — Bannister, jun. 

Clown = Suett. 

01(1 Shepherd = Waldron. 

Hermione = Mrs. Siddonh. 

Perdita = Miss Hickes (her first appear- 

ance on any stage). 

Paulina = Mrs. Powell. 

Hermione was the last of Mrs. Siddons' new 
characters. She still had beauty enough left 
*' to make her so perfect in the statue scene, 
that assuredly there was never such a repre- 
sentative of Hermione. Mrs. Yates had a 
sculpturesque beauty that suited the statue, 
I have been told, as long as it stood still; 
but when she had to speak, the charm was 
broken, and the spectatore wished her back 
to her pedestal. But Mi*s. Siddons looked the 
statue even to literal illusion ; and, whilst the 
drapery hid her lower limbs, it showed a beauty 
of head, neck, shoulders, and arms, that Praxi- 
teles might have studied. Tliis statue scene has 
hardly its |)arallel for enchantment even in 
Shakespeare's theatre. The star of his genius 
was at its zenith when he composed it; but it 

315 



THE WINTER'S TALK 



was ouly a Siddons that could do justice to its 
romantic perfection. The heart of every one 
who saw her when she burst from the sem- 
blance of sculi)ture into motion, and embraced 
her daughter, Perdita, must throb and glow 
at the recollection." Thus writes Campbell 
(Life of Mrs. Siddons, ii. 265, 266). In a 
similar vein Boatlen writes: "She stood one 
of the noblest statues, that even Grecian taste 
ever invented. The figure comjKwed some- 
thing like one of the Muses in profile. The 
drai>ery was ample in its folds, and seemingly 
stony in its texture. V^n the magical words, 
pronounced by Paulina, *Mu8ick; awake her: 
strike,' the .sudden action of the head abso- 
lutely startled, as though such a miracle had 
really vivified the marble; and the descent 
from the jjedestal was equally graceful and 
affecting" (Life of John Philip Kenible, ii. 
314). The same authority declai-es with faint 
praise that Mr. Kemble in Leontes "was 
every thing that either feeling or tiiste could 
require," stiites that the affection of Paulina 
never had a rei)resentative equal to Mrs. 
Powell, and cretlits the exix)neut of Peixlita 
with being " a very delicate and pretty young 
lady." The Monthly Mirror, xiii. 282, declared 
Kemble remarkably great in Leontes, and 
lavished upon him terms of eulogy. Bannis- 
ter's A utolycus is described to be exceedingly 
pleasant. The revival was on an elaborate 
scale, though little effort seems to have been 
made after archaeological accui*acy. It was fol- 
lowed with much interest and was accounted 
one of the most successful exi>eriments in its 
class of the time. In playing Hermione Mi*s. 
Siddons swept her skirts across the footlights. 
But for the pi-omptitude of a cai-penter, who 
crept on his knees and extinguished the fiames 
which burned the bottom of her train without 
the knowledge of the actress, she must have 
been burned to death. She declared that in 
consequence of this experience she could never 
think of The Winter's Tale without palpi- 
Jtation of the heart. 

Kemble revived The Winter's Tale at Co- 
vent (;iarden, 11th Nov. 1807, vesumiug the 
part of Leontes, and was once more supported 
by Mrs. Siddons as Hermione and Charles 
Kemble as T^nufj^a Pope replaced Barry- 



more as Polixenes and Mnnden Bannister as 
Autolycus. Miss Norton was Perdita, Mrs. 
Charles Kemble Paulina, Murray Antigonns, 
Creswell Camillo, Blanchard Old Shepherd, 
and Liston Clown. Upon a further revival, 
28th Nov. 1811, Egerton was Antigouus and 
Fawcett Autolycus, Mrs. H. Johnston being 
Perdita and Mrs. Powell Paulina. An an- 
nouncement was made that The W^inters 
Tale, revised, could only be had in the theatre. 
The "revisions" included the termination of 
Garrick's version, wliich was subsequently 
maintained by Macready. Genest witnessed 
a performance of The Winter's Tale in Bath, 
27th April, 1813, with Bengough as Leontes, 
Stanley as Florizel, Chatterley as Autolycus, 
Woulds as Clown, Mrs. Campbell as Hermione, 
and Mrs. Weston as Paulina. He remarks 
Mi-s. Siddons alone could have played Paulina 
better than "Mrs. Weston" (Account of the 
Stage, viii. 388). 

Upon the revival of The Winter's Tale at 
Coven t Garden, 7th Jan. 1819, Young was 
Leontes, Charles Kemble was again Florizel, 
and Egerton once more Polixenes, Liston, 
Fawcett, and Blanchard also reappearing re- 
sj^ectively as Clown, Autolycus, and Old 
Shepherd ; Abbott was Antigonns, Miss Som- 
erville, subsequently Mrs. Bunn, Hermione, 
Miss Beaumont Perdita, and Mrs. Yates 
Paulina. It was twice acted. The Thea- 
trical Inquisitor, which speaks of this as one 
of Shakespeare's least popular plays, says it 
was revived for the purpose of introducing 
Miss Somerville in the character of Hermione. 
Miss Somerville was, it states, "through- 
out dignified, commanding, and impressive; 
and in the scene where she appears as the 
statue, her fine figure produced a chaim- 
ing effect." Young's Leontes is said to have 
been "an admirable piece of acting," and 
Fawcett's Autolycus was "highly amusing." 
As Perdita Miss Beaumont dispLiyed " a fas- 
cinating artlessness and naivet6," which re- 
commend her greatly (vol. xiv. p. 74). Mac- 
ready made at Drury Lane his first appear- 
ance as Leontes, 3rd Nov. 1823. The piece was 
then announced as not acted (at Drury Lane) 
for eighteen years. Archer was Polixenes, 
Wallack for the first time Florizel, Mundeu 



INTRODUCTION. 



Autolycus, Harley Clown. Miss Somer- 
ville (now Mrs. Buun) Hermioue, Mrs. W. 
West for the fii-st time Perdita, and Mrs. 
Glover Paulina. This performance the Monthly 
Mirror, ix. 538, dismisses with short but 
eulogistic comment. " It hiis been attended 
with much success" (it was in fact acted 
twelve times), " Munden being rich in Auto- 
lycus, Mrs. Bunn dignified in Hermione, and 
Macready fervid and impetuous in Leontes. 
The statue scene is quite perfect.*' So com- 
pletely overshadowed, however, was the re- 
vival by the production, a foi-t night later 
(1 8th Nov.), of Knowles' tragedy of Caius 
Gracchus, that Macready abstains from any 
comment upon or mention of his own imper- 
sonation. One more levival of this phiy is 
chronicled by Genest. It took phice at Co- 
vent Garden, 5th Dec. 1827. Young was 
again Leontes and Egerton Camiilo. Diddear 
made as Polixenes his first appeai'ance at 
Covent Garden, Bartley wiis Antigonus, Keeley 
the Clown, Mrs. Faucit Hermione, Miss Jar- 
iiian Perdita, and Mrs. Chatterley Paulina. 
Keau was now at Covent Garden, and in the 
blaze of his po})ularity. This revival, like 
other rei>resentations on off- nights, attracted 
little attention. 

On 30th September, 1837, Macready began 
with a revival of The Winters Tale his 
management at Covent Garden. He played 
Leontes, according to his own declaration, 
"artist like, but not until the last act very 
effectively" (Reminiscences, ed. Pollock, ii. 
90). Mr. AndeAon, the well-known trage- 
dian, made his debut as Florizel, and Miss 
Taylor, subsequently Mi's. Walter Lacy, was 
Perdita. Macready, with characteristic re- 
ticence, mentions none of the actors exce])t 
himself. In May, 1843, Macready once more 
revived the play, Miss Helen Faucit being 
assuniiibly the Perdita. Phelps j>roduced 
The Winter's Tale, 19th November, 1845, dur- 
ing the second year of his tenure of Sadler's 
Wells. He acted Leontes, George Bennett 
was Antigonus, Henry Mars ton Florizel, A. 
younge Autolycufl, Mrs. Warner Hermione, 
Miss Cooper Perdita, and Mrs. Henry Mars- 
ton Paulina. It does not appear to have 
been subsequently revived at Sadler's Wells. 



Mrs. Warner had previously revived The 
Winter's Tale at the Marylebone Theatre 
during her management of that house, and her 
Hermione had attracted a public different from 
that which ordinarily attended the theatre. 

Charles Keau's revival of The Winter's Tale 
was one of the most ambitious of his Shake- 
spearean experiments, and may perhaps be 
regarded as the most famous representation 
ever given of the play. It was exhibited 28th 
April, 1856. The version was Shakespeare's, 
Charles Kean having contented himself with 
necessaiy excisions and re-arrangement. Some- 
what jjedantically, however, he adhered to 
Hanmers suggestion, and transfeiTed to Bi- 
thynia the portion of the action supposed to 
pass in Bohemia. The views in Syracuse 
were especially picturesque and elaborate; a 
large amount of dancing and pageantry was 
introduced; and a *' classic allegory" rei)re- 
senting the course of Time formed a much- 
discussed feature. Thanks to these attractions 
rather than to any sujjreme merit of interi)re- 
tation the revival had a success then regarded 
as " phenomenal," the play being given over 
one hundred times. A large number of sujjer- 
numeraries was concerned in the ]>roduction. 
Cliarles Kean's Leontes was a careful and 
an adequate {)erformance. Like most of his 
Shakesi>earean imj)ersonation8 it came short 
of greatness, but it hiui jiicturesqueness, 
variety, and intelligence, and a certain mea- 
sure of fire. Mrs. Charles Kean's Hermione 
had an engaging womanliness. The actress 
was no longer young, but her appearance 
in the statue scene was effective and justi- 
fied the customary allusions to "the chisel 
of Phidias and Praxiteles." A feminine re- 
presentative was found for Florizel in the 
I)er8on of Miss Heath, subsequently Mrs. 
Wilson Barrett, Perdita being played by Miss 
C'arlotta Leclercq. Mr. Ryder was a stalwart 
Polixenes. 

The twelfth season of Chatterton's manage- 
ment of Drury Lane opened 28th September, 
1878, with The Winter's Tale. Miss Wallis 
was the Hermione; Mrs. Hermann Vezin 
the Paulina, a character in which in recent 
years she has had no equal; and Miss Emily 
Fowler the Perdita. Charles Dillon was a 

317 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



melodramatic Leontes; Cowper, Edgar, Comp- 
too, and Ryder also tx)ok part in the interpre- 
tation. 

Many other revivals might be dragged from 
their obscurity. One only calls, however, for 
mention. Daring her tenure of the Lyceum 
Miss Mary Anderson revived The Winter's 
Tale, 10th September, 1887. On this occasion 
she ventured upon a unique and dangerous 
exi>eriment which nothing short of success 
cc^uld have justified. This consisted in doub- 
ling the rOles of Hermione and Ferdita. That 
gain as well as loss attended this experiment 
must be owned. The resemblance between 
Hermione and Perdita, amounting practically 
to identity, Himplifies the action. It is diffi- 
cult to conceive what Shakespeare would have 
held concerning 8uch treatment of his play, 
but {lardonable to think he would i)ardon a 
]>rocedure the result of which was to secure 
for the play a triumph and a run greater than 
it had previously known. Ex[>eriment8 of the 
kind were unheard of in Shake8i>eare's days. 
Modem nticklers for the text are bound to 
resent what has been done. With memories 
of the grace and beauty of the representation 
still fresh it is difficult to be stem in condem- 
nation. Comparatively little meddling with 
the text was involved, and it was only in the 
last act that it was necessary to resort to the 
clumsy expedient of a double. Miss Ander- 
son's {>erformance of Hermione had a full 
measure of dignity and some intensity. In 
tenderness it failed. Her Perdita meanwhile 
was bewitching. The virginal grace and charm 
of Miss Anderson told with singular effect. 
Nothing could be more beautiful than the 
Iiastoral scenes; and the dance of the shepher- 
desses, led off by the actress, dwells caressingly 
in the memory. It had a delightful rusticity 
and grace, and might be seen again and again 
with increasing admiration and enjoyment. 
Mr. Forbes Robertson depicted in excellent 
fashion the soul-consuming jealousy of Leon- 
tea; Miss Sophie Eyre was Paulina, a jxart in 
which she was after a time succeeded by Mrs. 
Billington; Mr. F. H. Macklin was Polixenes; 
Mr. Fuller Mellish, Florizel; Mr. J. Maclean, 
Gamillo; Mr. W. H. Stephens, the Old Shep- 
head; Mr. Charles CoUette, Autolycus; Mr. 

318 



George Warde, Antigonns; and Mr. J. Ander- 
son, a brother of the exponent of HermioDi* 
and Perdita, the Clown. To such small char- 
acters as Mopea and Dorcas, agreeably playeti 
by Miases Tilbury and Ayrton, the care of the 
management extended. For some hundreds 
of nights in England and America Miss An- 
derson repeated her double performance. 

A revival of The Winter's Tale a dozen or 
more years ago in Liverpool, in which Mia* 
Rose Leclercq played Hermione, attracteii 
some attention, but does not call for much 
notice. It was transferred to Edinburgh 6th 
November, 1876. — J. k. 

CRITICAL REMARKS. 

The Winter's Tale is a tj'pically romantic 
drama, a "winter's dream, when nights are 
longest," constructed in defiance of probabili- 
ties, which it rides over happily. It has all 
the license and it has all the charm of a fair}' 
tale; while the matters of which it treats are 
often serious enough, ready to become tragic 
at any moment, and with much of real tragedy 
in them as it is. The merciful spirit of Shake- 
speare in his last period, grown to repose now 
after the sharp sunshine and storm of his ear- 
lier and middle years — the delicate art which 
that [)eriod matured in him, seen at its point 
of finest delicacy in this play and in The 
Tempest, alone serve to restrain what would 
otherwise be really painful in the griefs and 
mistaken passions of the perturbed persons of 
the di-ama. Something — the very atmosphere, 
the dawning of light amoftg the clouds at 
their blackest — at first a hint, then, distinctly, 
a promise, of things coming right at hutt, keeps 
us from taking aU these distresses, genuine 
as they are, too seriously. It is all human 
life, but life under happier skies, on continents 
where the shores of Bohemia are washed by 
" faery seas." Anachronisms abound, and are 
delightful. That Delphos should l)e an island, 
Giulo Romano contemporary with the oracles, 
that Puritans should sing psalms to hornpipes, 
and a sudden remembrance call up the name 
of Jove or Proserpina to the forgetful lips of 
Cliristian-speaking characters — all this is of no 
more importance than a trifling error in the 
count of miles traversed by a witch's broom- 



INTRODUCTION. 



stick in a minute. Too probable figures would 
destroy the illusion, and the error is a separate 
felicity. 

It is quite in keeping with the other roman- 
tic characteristics of the play, that, judged by 
the usual standard of such a Komantic as 
Shakespeare himself, it should be constructed 
with exceptional looseness, falling into two 
very definite halves, the latter of which can 
ag;iin, in a measure, be divided. The first 
part, which takes place in Sicilia, is a study 
of jealousy; the whole interest is concentrated 
upon the relations of the "usual three — hus- 
band and wife and friend" — Leontes, Her- 
mione, and Polixenes. The jealousy is in 
possession when we first see Leontes: it bursts 
out, comes to a climax, almost at once : in its 
furious heat runs through its whole course 
with the devouring sj)ee<l of a race-horse: and 
then has its downfall, sudden an<i precipitate, 
ancl so dies of its own over-swiftness. Act iii. 
scene 2 ends the first part of the play; and 
with the third scene begins part ii., taking us 
from Sicilia, where the widowed and childless 
king is left mourning, tr> Bohemia, where the 
children, not long born when we last. saw 
Sicilia, are now come to years of love. Then, 
all through the fourth act, we are with Flori- 
zel mid Perditii — a sweet i)astoral, varied with 
the <lainty knaveries of a rogue as light- 
hearte<l as he is light-fingered ; that too, the 
j>ai}t<>ral, coming to a sudden and disastrous 
end, not without a doubtful gleam of hope for 
the futiu^. With act v. we return to Sicilia, 
having from the begiiming a sense that things 
are now at last coming to a desired end. 
Leontes' proved faithfulness, his sixteen years' 
bunlen of " saint-like sorrow," gives him the 
right, one feels, to the happiness that is so 
evidently drawing near. All does, indeed, fall 
well, as the whole company comes together 
at the court of Sicilifi, now re-united at last, 
husband with his lost wife (another Alcestis 
from the grave), father and mother with child, 
lover with lover (the com-se of true love smooth 
again), friend with friend, the faithful servants 
rewarded — with each other, the worthless 
likeable knave, even, in a good way of getting 
on in the world. 

The principal charm in The Winter's Tale, 



its real power over the sources of delight, lies 
in the two. women, true mother and daughter, 
whose fortunes we see at certain moments, the 
really important crises of their lives. Her- 
mione, as we have just time to see her before 
the blow comes, is happy wife, happy mother, 
fixed, as it seems, in a settled happinesa 
Grave, not gay, but with a certain quiet play- 
fulness, such as so well becomes stately women, 
she impresses us with a feeling, jiartly of ad- 
miration, j)artly of attraction. It is with a 
sort of devoted reverence that we see her pre- 
sently, patient yet not abject, under the dis- 
honouring accusations of the fool her husband. 
" Good my lords," she can say — 

I am not prone to weeping, as our sex 
Commonly are; the want of which vain dew 
Perchance shall dry your pities; but I have 
That honourable grief lodged here which bums 
Worse than tears drown : beseech you all, my lords. 
With thoughts so (qualified as your charities 
Shall best instruct you, measure mo; and so 
The king's will be perform 'd ! 

All Hermione is in those words, no less than 
in the calm forthrightness of her defence, 
spoken afterwards in the Court of Justice. 
She has no self-consciousness, is not aware 
that at anv time in her life she is heroic; "a 
very woman," merely simple, sincere, having 
in reverence the sanctity of wifehood and in 
respect the dignity of queenship. In Perdita, 
the daughter so long lost and in the end so 
happily restored to her, we see, in all the 
gaiety of youth, the frank innocence and the 
placid strength of Hermione. She is the in- 
carnation of all that is delightful and desir- 
able in girlhood, as her mother incarnates for 
us the perfect charm of mature woman. And, 
coming before us where she does, a shepherdess 
among pastoral people, **the queen of curds 
and cream," she seems to sum up and im- 
mortalize, in one delicious figure, our holiday 
loves, our most vivid sensations of country 
pleasures. It is the grace of Florizel that he 
loves Perdita; he becomes charming to us 
because Perdita loves him. In these young 
creatiu*es the old passion becomes new ; and 
for an hour we too are as if we had never 
loved, but are now, now, in the first moment 
of the unique discovery. 

319 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



This charm of womanhood, this purely de- 
lightful quality, of which the play has so 
much, though it remains, I think, the pre- 
dominant feeling with us after reading or see- 
ing the course of action, is not, we must re- 
member, the only quality, the whole course of 
the action. Besides the ripe comedy, charac- 
teristic of Shakespeare at his latest, which 
indeed haimoiiizes admirably with the idyl of 
love to which it serves as background, there 
is also a harsh exhibition, in Leontes, of the 
meanest of the passions, an insane jealousy, 
petty and violent as the man who nurses it. 
For sheer realism, for absolute insight into 
the most cob webbed corners of our nature, 
Shakespeare has rarely surpassed this brief 
study, which, in its total effect, does but tlirow 
out in brighter i*elief the noble qualities of the 
other actora beside him, the pleasant qualities 
of the play they make by their acting. With 
Othello there is properly no comparison. 
Othello could no more comprehend the work- 
ings of the mind of Leontes than Leontes 
could fathom the meaning of the attitude of 
Othello. Leontes is meanly, miserably, de- 
gradedly jealous, with a sort of mental alien- 
ation or distortion — a disease of the brain like 
some disease of vision, bv which he still " sees 
yellow" everywhere. The malady has its 
course, disasti'ously, and then ends in the only 

320 



way possible — by an agonizing cure, suddenly 
applied. Are those sixteen years of mourning, 
we may wonder, really adequate penance for 
the man? Certainly his suffering, like his 
criminal folly, was great; and not least among 
the seimrate heartaches in that purifying min- 
istry of grief must have been the memory of 
the boy Mamillius, the noblest and dearest to 
our hearts of Shakespeare's children. When 
the great day came (is it fanciful to note?) 
Hermione embraced her husband in silence; 
it was to her daughter that she first spoke. 

The end, certainly, is reconciliation, mercy 
— mercy extended even to the unworthy, in a 
spirit of something more than mere justice; 
as, in those dark plays of Shakespeare's great 
penultimate period, the end came with a sort 
of sombre, irresponsible injustice, an outrage 
of natui*e ui)on her sons, wrought in blind 
anger. We close The Winter's Tale with a 
feeling that Hfe is a gcxxl thing, worth living; 
that much trial, much mistake and error, may 
be endured to a happier issue, though the 
scars, perhajjs, are not to be effaceii. This 
end, on such a note, is indeed the mood in 
which Shakespeare took leave of life — in no 
weakly optimistic spirit, certainly, but with 
the air of one who has conquered fortune, not 
fallen under it— with a genial faith in the 
ultimate result of things. 




THE WINTER'S TALE. 



SCESB I, Antechamber in Leoiite^ palace. 
Eiiier Cahillo aiid Abchioamus. 

Arch. If you ahjiil chance, Camill(), to visit 
Bohemia, on the like occasion whereon my 
services are now on foot, you shall Bee, as I 
have said, great difference betwixt our Bohe- 
mia and your Sicilia. 

Cam. I think, this coming summer, the 
King of Sicilia means to pay Bohemia the 
viaitation which be justly owes him. 

Arch. Wherein our entertainment shall 
ithanie us we will be justified in our loves; 
for indeed — 10 

Cam. Beseech you, — 

Arch. Verily, I speak it in the freedom of 
my knowledge: we cannot with such magnifi- 
iMDce— in BO rare— I know not what Ui say. 
We will give you sleepy drinks, that your 
•enses, unintelligent of our insufficience, may, 
though they cannot praise us, as little accuse 

Cam. You pay a great deal too dear for 
what 'i given freely. i» 



.Arch. Believe me, I speak as my under- 
standing instructs me, and as mine honesty 
puts it to utterance. 

Cam. Sicilia cannot show himself over-kind 
to Bohemia. They were train'd together in 
their childhood; and there rooted betwixt 
them then such an affection, which cannot 
choose but branch now. Since their more 
mature dignities and royal necessities made 
separation of their society, their encounters, 
though not personal, have been royally attor- 
neyed' with interchange of gifts, lettera, lov- 
ing embassies; that they have seem'd to be 
together, though absent; shook hands, tm over 
a vast; and embrac'd, as it were, from the 
ends of opposed winds. The heavens continue 
their loves ! as 

Arch. I think there is not in the world 
either malice or matter to alter it. Vou have 
an unspeakable comfort of your young prince 
Mamillius: it is a gentleman of the greatest 
promise that ever came into my note. u 

I JKomrjwiI. ptrlormad b/ ftox). 



ACT I. Soene 1. 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT I. Scene 1 



Cam. I very well agree with you in the 
hopes of him: it is a gallant child; one that, 
indeed, physics the subject, makes old hearts 
fresli: they that went on crutches ere he was 
born desire yet their life to see him a man. 

Arch. Would they else be content to die? 

Cam. Yes; if there were no other excuse 
why they should desire to live. 

Arch. If the king had no son, they would 
desire to live on crutches till he had one. so 

[ExeutU. 

Scene II. A state-room in Leonte^ palace. 

Enter Leontes, Hermione, Mamillius, 
PoLiXENES, Camillo, and Attendants. 

Pol. Nine changes of the watery star^ hath 
been 
The shepherd's note since we have left our 

throne 
Without a burden: time as long again 
Would be fill'd up, my brother, with our 

thanks ; 
And yet we should, for perpetuity, 
Go hence in debt: and therefore, like a cipher. 
Yet standing in ricli pbice, I nmltiply 
With one "We-thank-you" many thousands 

moe 
That go before it. 

Leon. Stay your thanks awhile, 

And pay them when you part. 

Pol. Sir, that 's to-morrow. 

I am question'd by my fears, of what may 
chance ii 

Or breed upon our absence; tliat may blow 
No sneaping^ winds at home, to make us say, 
"This is put forth too truly:" besides, I have 

sta^d 
To tire your royalty. 

Leon. We are tough*, brother. 

Than you can put us to 't. 

Pol. No longer stay. 

Leon. One seven-night longer. 
Pol. YeTj sooth, to-morrow. 

Leon. We '11 part the time between 's, theu : 
and in that 
I '11 no gainsaying. 
Pol. Press me not, beseech you, so. 

1 The watery ttar, i.e. the moon. * Sneaping, nipping. 

322 



There is no tongue that moves, none, none i' 
the world, ao 

So soon as yours, could win me : so it should now. 
Were there necessity in your request, although 
T were needful I denied it. My affairs 
Do even drag me homeward: which to hinder. 
Were in your love a whip to me; my stay, 
To you a charge and trouble: to save both. 
Farewell, our brother. 

Leon. Tongue-tied our queen ? speak you. 

Her. 1 had thought, sir, to have held my 
peace until 
You had drawn oaths from him not to stay. 

You, sir, 
Cliarge him too coldly. Tell him, you are sure 
All in Bohemia's well; this satisfaction 3i 
Tlie by-gone day proclaim'd : say this to him. 
He 's beat from his best ward. 

Leon. Well said, Hermione. 

Ner. To tell, he lougs to see his son, were 
strong: 
But let him say so then, and let him go; 
But let him swear so, and he shall not stay. 
We '11 thwack him hence with distaffs. 
Yet of your royal presence I '11 adventure ss 
The l)orrow of a week. When at Bohemia 
You take my lord, I '11 give him my commission 
To let"^ him there a month behind the gest* 
Pretix'd for's parting: yet, good deed, Leontes, 
I love thee not a jar* o' the clock behind 
Wliat lady she her lord. You '11 stay ? 

Pol, No, madam. 

Her. Nay, but you will? 

Pol. 1 may not, verily. 

Ifer. Verily! 
You put me off with limber vows; but I, 
Though you would seek to unsphere the stars 

with oaths. 
Should yet say, " Sir, no going.'* Verily, 
You shall not go: a lady's "verily" is 50 

As poteot as a lord's. Will you go yet? 
Force me to keep you as a prisoner, 
Not like a guest; so you shall pay your fees* 
When you depart, and save your than ka How 

say you ? 
My prisoner, or my guest? by your dread 

"verilv," 
One of them you shall be. 



3 L^t, hinder. 
» Jar, tick. 



* OeH, ftopping-plaoa, limlk 
« As deMon did. 



THE WINTER'S TALK 



Pol. Your guest, then, madam: 

To be 3rour priaoner should import offeiiding; 
W)iich is for me lem easy to commit 
Thau you to punish. 

ff«r. Not your gaoler, then, 

Butyou kind hostess. Come, I'll question ymi 
Of my lord's tricks and yours when you v 



You were pretty lordinga then ! 

Pot. We were, fair queen 

Two lads that thought there was no mor 

behind 
But such a day to-morrow as to-day. 
And to be boy eternal. 

Her. Was not my lord 

The verier wag o' the two! 




P<A. We were as twinn'd lambs that did 

friek i' the sun, 
AndbleattheoDeat theother: whatwechang'U 
Was innocence for innocence; we knew not 
Tike doctrine* of ill-doing, nor dreani'd to 
That any did. Had we pursued tbnt life, 
Aitd our weak spirits ne'er been higher rear'd 
"With stronger blood, we should have answer'd 

heaven 
Boldly, "not guilty;" the imposition clear'd 
Hereditary ours.* 



Her. By this we gather 

You have tripp'd since. 

Pol. my most sacred lady, 

Temptations have since then been bom to's; 

In those unfledg'd days was my wife a girl; 
Your precious self had then not cross'd the eyes 
Of my young playfellow. 

Her. Grace to boot '' M 

Of this make no conclusion, lest you say 
Your queen and I are devils: yet go on; 



ACT I. Scene 2. 



THE WINTER'S TALK 



ACT L Seeoe 1 



The offences we have made you do, well answer, 
If you first sinn'd with us, and that with us 
You did continue fault, and that you slipp'd 

not 
With any but with us. 

Leon. Is he won yet? 

Her, He '11 stay, my lord. 
Leon. At my request he would not. 

Hermione, my dearest, thou never spok'st 
To better purpose. 

Her. Never? 

Leon. Never, but once. 

Her. What! have I twice said well? when 

was 't before ? flo 

I prithee tell me; cram's with praise, and 

make's 
As fat as tame things: one good deed dying 

tongueless 
Slaughters a thousand waiting upon that. 
Our praises are our wages: you may ride 's 
With one soft kiss a thousand furlongs ere 
With spur we heat an acre. But to the goal: 
My last good deed was to entreat his stay: 
What was my first? it has an elder sister, 
Or I mistake vou: O would her name were 

Grace! 99 

But once before I spoke to the purpose: when? 
Nay, let me have 't; I long. 

Leon. Why, that was when 

Three crabbed months had sour'd themselves 

to death. 
Ere I could make thee open thy white hand, 
And clap thyself my love: then didst thou utter, 
" I am yours for ever." 

Her. T lb Grace indeed. 

Why, lo you now, I have spoke to the purpose 

twice: 
Tlie one for ever eam'd a royal husband; 
The other for some while a friend. 

Leon. [Aside] Too hot, too hot! 

To mingle friendship far, is mingling blocMls. 
I have tremor cordis on me; my heart dances; 
But not for joy; not joy. This entertainment 
May a free face put on; derive a liberty 112 
From heartiness, from bounty, fertile bosom. 
And well become the agent; 't may, I grant; 
But to be paddling palms and pinching fingers. 
As now they are, and making practised smiles. 
As in a looking-glass ; and then to sigh, as 

't were 

324 



The mort^ o' the deer; O, that is entertainment 
My bosom likes not, nor my brows! Mamilliua, 
Art thou my boy ? 

Mam. Ay, my good lord. 

{^Leon. rfecks!*^ 

Why, that 's my bawcock. What, hast smutch'd 
thy nose? isi 

They say it is a copy out of mine. Come, captain, 
We must be neat; not neat, but cleanly, captain: : 
And yet the steer, the heifer, and the calf. 
Are all call'd neat. — Still virginal ling 
Upon his palm! — How now, you wanton calf? 
Art thou my calf? 

Mam. Yes, if you will, my lord. ] 

Leon. Thou want'st a rough pash,' and the 
shoots that I have. 
To be full like me: yet they say we are 
Almost as like as eggs; women say so, iso 
That will say any thing: f but were they false ; 
As o'er-dyed blacks,^ as wind, as waters, false ^ 
As dice are to be wish'd by one that fixes ; 
No bourn 'twixt his and mine, yet were it true J 
To say this boy were like me. ] Come, sir page, ; 
Look on me with your welkin* eye: sweet 

villain! 
Most dear'st! my coUop! Can thy dam? — 

may 't be ? — 
Affection!^ thy intention stabs the centre: 
^Thou dost make possible things not so held, \ 
Communicatfst with dreams; — how can this> 
be?— 140 i 

With what 's unreal thou coactive art, '> 

And felloVst nothing: then 't is very credent '• 
Thou mayst co-join with something; and thou i 
dost, / 

And that beyond commission, and I find it. 
And that to the infection of my brains '> 

And hardening of my brows. ] y 

Pol. What means Sicilia? 

Her. He something seems unsettled. 

Pol. How, my lord ! 

Leon. What cheer? how is 't with you, best 
brother? 

Her. You look as if you held a. brow of much 
distraction : 14» 

Are you moVd, my lord ? 

1 Jf ore, de«th. tr/eetti In f«Ith! 

s Pa$h, head. * Rackt, moaming garment!. 

& Welkin, blue, or hearenly. 
* Afectiont natural inatincii 



ACT L Soene 2. 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT I. Soene 2. 



Leon, No, iu good earnest. 

How sometimes nature will betray its folly, 
Its tenderness, and make itself a pastime 
To harder bosoms ! Looking on the lines 
Of my boy's face, methoughts^ I did recoil 
Twenty-three year8,and saw myself iinbreech'd. 
In my green velvet coat, my dagger muzzled, 
Lest it should bite its master, and so prove. 
As ornaments oft do, too dangerous: 
How like, methought, I then was to this kernel. 
This squash,' this gentleman. Mine honest 

friend, 160 

Will you take eggs for money? 
Mam, No, my lord, I '11 fight. 
Leon, You will 1 why, happy man be 's dole ! 

My brother, 
Are you so fond of your young prince as we 
Do seem to be of ours ? 

Pol. If at home, sir. 

He 's all my exercise, my mirth, my matter; 
Now my sworn friend, and then mine enemy; 
My parasite, my soldier, statesman, all: i(58 
He makes a July's day short as December; 
And with his varying childness cui*es iu me 
Thoughts that would thick my blood. 

Leon. So stands this squirei 

Officed with me. We two will walk, my lonl, 
A nd leave you to your graver steps. Hermione, 
How thou lov'st us, show in our brother's 

welcome; 
QLet what is dear in Sicily be cheap:] 
Next to thyself and my young rover, he 's 
Apparent to my heart. 

Her. If you would seek us, 

We are yours i' the garden: shall 's attend 

you there? 
Leon. To your own bents dispose you : you '11 

be found. 
Be you beneath the sky. [i4«u/e] I am angling 



now. 



180 



Though you perceive me not how I give line. 

Go to, go to ! 

' [ How she holds up the neb,^ the bill to him ! 
I And arms her with the boldness of a wife 
^ To her allowing husband ! 
<^[Exeunt Fdixenes, Hermione, and Attendants. 
- Gone already ! 

1 MttkonighU, te. methought, by false analogy from 
metAinJa. 
* Sfuath, an unripe peaicod. * JV>fr, mouth. 



Inch-thick, knee-deep, o'er head and ears a'^ 

fork'd one I ] 

Go, play, boy, play: thy mother plays, and I j 
Play too; but so disgraced a part, whose issue ; 
Will hiss me to my grave: contempt and/ 

clamour i 

Will be my knell. Go, play, boy, play. There ; 

have been, 190) 

Or I am much deceiv'd, cuckolds ere now; ) 
And many a man there is, even at this present, \ 
Now while I speak this, holds his wife by the 

arm. 
That little thinks she has been sluiced in 's . 

absence, ] 

And his pond fish'd by his next neighbour, by;^ 
Sir Smile, his neighbour: nay, there 's comfort $ 

in't, I 

Whiles other men have gates, and those gates ; 

open 'd, J 

As mine, against their will. Should all despair ^ 
That have revolted wives, the tenth of mankind ■ 
Would hang themselves. Physic for't there J 

is none; 200; 

It is a bawdy planet, that will strike / 

Where 't is predominant; and 't is powerful,/ 

think it, / 

From east, west, north, and south : be it con- ( 

eluded. 
No barricado for a belly; know 't; 
It will let in and out the enemy ^ 

With bag and baggage: many thousand on 's J 
Have the disease, and feel 't not. How now, boy ! ^ 
Mam. I am like you, they say. ^ 

Leon. Why, that's some comfort ]^ 

What, Camillo there? 

Cam. Ay, my good lord, 210 

Leon. Go, play, Mamillius ; thou 'rt an 

honest man. [Exit Mamillius. 

Camillo, this great sir will yet stay longer. 
Cam. You had much ado to make his anchor 

hold: 
When you cast out, it still came home. 
Leo7i. Didst note it ? 

Cam. He would not stay at your petitions; 

made 
His business more material. 

Leon. Didst perceive it? — 

[J«u/e] They're here with me already; whisper- 
ing, rounding, 
"Sicilia is a — so-forth:" 'tis far gone, 

325 



ACT I. Scene 2. 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT I. Soeot 2. 



When I shall gust^ it last How came't, 

Camillo, 
That he did stay? 

^ Cam. At the good queen's entreaty. 

Leon, At the queen's be't: **good" should be 
pertinent; 221 

But, so it is, it is not Was this taken 
By any understanding pate but thine? 
' For thy conceit is soaking, will draw in 
' More than the common blocks :' not noted, is 't. 
But of the finer natures? by some severals 
Of head- piece extraordinar}- ? lower messes 
! Perchance are to this business purblind? say. 

Cam, Business, my lord? I think most 
understand 
Bohemia stays here longer. 

Leon, Ha ! 

Cam, Stays here longer. 

Leon, Ay, but why?] 231 

Cam. To satisfy your highness, and the en- 
treaties 
Of our most gracious mistress. 

Leon, Satisfy 

The entreaties of your mistress? satisfy? 
Let that suffice. I have trusted thee, Camillo, 
With all the nearest things to my heart, as well 
My chamber-councils; wherein, priest-like, thou 
Hast cleaiia'd my bosom, I from thee departed 
Thy penitent refomi'd: but we have been 
Deceiv'd in thy integrity, deceiv'd 240 

In that which seems so. 

Cam. Be it forbid, mv lord! 

Leon . To bide upon \ thou art not honest ; or, 
If thou inclin'st that way, thou art a coward. 
Which hoxes^ honesty behind, restraining 
From course requir'd; or else thou must be 

counted 
A servant grafted in my serious trust. 
And therein negligent; or else a fool 
That seest a game play'd home, the rich stake 

drawn. 
And tak'st it all for jest 

Cam. My gracious lord, 

I may be negligent, foolish, and fearful; 250 
In every one of these no man is free, 
But that his negligence, his folly, fear. 
Among the infinite doings of the world, 
Sometime puts forth. In your affairs, my lord, 

1 Quit, tMte. « Btoeir«. blockheada. 

s BoxMt honghi, luunttringt. 

326 



If ever I were wilful-negligent, 
It was my folly; if industriously 
I play'd the fool, it was my negligence, 
Not weighing well the end; if ever fearful 
To do a thing, where I the issue doubted, 
Whereof the execution did cry out 260 

Against the non-performance, 't was a fear 
Which oft infects the wisest: these, my lord. 
Are such allow'd infirmities that honesty 
Is never free of. But, beseech your grace, 
Be plainer with me; let me know my trespass 
By its own visage: if I then deny it, 
T is none of mine. 

Leon. Ha' not you seen, Camillo, — 

Q But that 's past doubt, you have, or your eye- ; 

glass ; 

Is thicker than a cuckold's horn, — ] or heard, — ' 
For, to a vision so apparent, rumour 270 

Cannot be mute, — or thought, — for cogitation 
Besides not in that man tliat does not think, — 
My wife is slippery? If thou wilt confess. 
Or else be impudently negative, 
t To have nor eyes nor ears nor thought, then say ^ 
My wife 's a hobby-horse; deserves a name 
As rank as any fiax- wench that puts-to 
Before her troth-plight: say 't, and justify 't 
Cam. I would not be a stander-by to hear 
My sovereign mistress clouded so, without 
My present vengeance tiken: 'shrew my heart. 
You never spoke what did become you less 
Than this; which to reiterate were sin 28S^ 
As deep as that, though true. ; 

Leon. Is whispering nothing?^ 

Is leaning cheek to cheek? is meeting noses? 
Kissing with inside lip? stopping the career 
Of laughter with a sigh? — a note infallible 
Of breaking honesty; — horsing foot on foot? 
Skulking in comers? wishing clocks more swift? > 
Hours, minutes? noon, midnight? and all eyes^ 
Blind with the pin and web,^ but theirs, theirs > 

only, »i> 

That would unseen be wicked? is this nothing?^ 
Why, then the world and all that's in 't is^ 

nothing; > 

The coveringsky is nothing; Bohemia nothing; 
My wife is nothing; nor nothing have theae 

nothings, 
If this be nothing. ] 

4 />tn and iM»,diMMM tit tte^jre. 



THE WINTEE'S TALE. 



Cam. Good my lord, be cured 

Of this diseas'd opinion, aiid betimes; 
For 't is most dangeroua. 

Leon. Sny it be, 't is true. 

Cam. No, no, my lord. 

Leon. It is; yon lie, you lie: 

I Bay thou liest, Gamilln, aiid I hate thee, 800 



Pronounce tliee » gross lout, a mindless slave, 
Or else a hovering temporizer, that 
Canst witli tbineeyesat once seegood and evil, 
Inclining to them both; [were my wife's livert 
Infected as her life, she would not live \ 

The ninuing of one glass. \ 

Cam. Who does infect her) \ 




\ Leon. Why, he that wears her like her 

\ medai,! hanging 

' About hie neck, Bohemia: who, ^ if I '3»» 
Xtad servants true about me, that bare eyes 
1o see alike mine honour as their protita, 
mieirownparticulartlirift8,theywoulddo that 
"Wliich should undo more doing: ay, and thon, 
Bia cupbearer, — whom I from meaner form 
Bave bench'd and rear'd to worship, who 
mayst see 



Plainly, as beaven sees earth and earth «ee« 

beave'n, 
How I am gall'd, — migbtst bespice a cup, 
To give mine enemy a lasting wink; 
Which draught to me were cordial. 

Cam. Sir, my lord, 

1 could do this, and that with no rash' potion, 

But with a lingering diam, that shoidd not 

work 3S0 

Maliciously like poison : but I cannot 

■ Saih. hMty. 



ACT I. Scene 2. 



THE WINTER'S TALK 



ACT I. Soeue 2. 



Believe thia crack to be in my dread mistress, 
So sovereignly being honourable. 
I have lov'd thee, — 

Leon, Make that thy question, and go rot! 
Dost think I am so muddy, so unsettled, 
<'To appoint^ myself in this vexation; Q sully 
^The purity and whiteness of my sheets, 
< Which to preserve is sleep, which being spotted 
^Is goads, thorns, nettles, tails of wasps ;^ S29 
Give scandal to the blood o' the prince my son. 
Who I do think is mine, and love as mine. 
Without ripe moving to 't ? Would I do this ? 
Could man so blench ?^ 

Cam. I must believe you, sir; 

I do; and will fetch off Bohemia for't; 
Provided that, when he 's remov'd, your high- 
ness 
Will take again your queen as yours at first. 
Even for your son's sake; and thereby for 

sealing 
The injury of tongues in courts and kingdoms 
Known and allied to yours. 

Leon. Thou dost advise me 

Even so as I mine own course have set down: 
I '11 give no blemish to her honour, none. 

Cam. My lord, 342 

Go then ; and with a countenance as clear 
As friendship wears at feasts, keep with 

Bohemia 
And with your queen. I am his cupbearer: 
If from me he liave wholesome beverage. 
Account me not your servant. 

Leon. This is all: 

Do 't, and thou hast the one half of my heart; 
Do 't not, thou splitt'st thine own. 

Cam. I '11 do 't, my lord. 

Leon. I will seem friendly, as thou hast 
advis'd me. \Exit. 

Cam. O miserable lady! But, for me, s-ii 
What case stand I in? I must be the poisoner 
Of good Polixenes: and my ground to do 't 
Is the obedience to a master; one 
Who, in rebellion with himself, will have 
All that are his so too. To do this deed. 
Promotion follows: if I could find example 
Of thousands that had struck anointed kings 
And flourish'd after, I 'd not do't; l)ut since 



1 Appointy attire. 

s Blench, start or fly off. 

328 



Nor brass nor stone nor parchment bears not 



one. 



360 



Let villany itself forswear 't I must 
Forsake the court: to do't, or no, is certain 
To me a break-neck. Hapjiy star reign now! 
Here comes Bohemia. 

lie-enter Polixenes. 

Pol. This is strange: methinks 

My favour here begins to warp. Not speak? 
Good day, Camillo. 

Canu Hail, most royal sir! 

Pol. What is the news i' the court? 

Cajn. None rare, my lord. 

Pol. The king hath on him such a counten- 
ance 
As he had lost some province, and a region 
Lov'd as he loves himself: even now I met 
him 370 

With customary compliment; when he, 
Wafting his eyes to the contrary, and falling 
A lip of much contempt, speeds from me, and 
So leaves me, to consider what is breed uig 
That changes thus his maimera 

Canu 1 dare not know, my lord. 

Pol. How ! dare not ? do not ? Do you know, 
and dare not ? 
Be intelligent to me. 'T is thereabouts; 
For, to yourself, what you do know, you must, 
And cannot say you dare not Good Camillo, 
Your chang'd complexions are to me a mirror, 
Which shows me mine chang'd too; for I 
must be 3«t2 

A party in this alteration, finding 
Myself thus alter'd with 't. 

Cam. Tliere is a sickness 

Which puts some of us in distemper; but 
I cannot name the disease; and it is caught 
Of you that yet are welL 

Pol. How! caught of me? 

Make me not sighted like the basilisk: 
I have look'd on thousands, who have sped 
the better ssi^ 

By my regard, but kill'd none sa Camillo, — 
As you are certainly a gentleman; thereto 
Clerk-like experienced, which no less adorns 
Our gentry' than our parents' noble names, 
In whose success* we are gentle, — I beseech you , 

3 Qtntry, rank as gentlemen. « Sutceu^ saccenioo- 



ACT I. Soeue 2. 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT I. Soena 2. 



If you know aught which does behove my 

knowledge 
Thereof to be inform'd, impriaon 't not 
In ignomnt conceahnent. 

Cam, I may not answer, 

Pid. A sickness caught of me, and yet I well ! 
I must be answered. Dost thou hear, Camillo, 
I c6njure thee, by all the parts of man 400 
Which honour does acknowledge, whereof the 

least 
Is not this suit of mine, that thou declare 
What incidency thou dost guess of harm 
Is creeping toward me; how far off, how near; 
Which way to be prevented, if to be; 
If not, how best to bear it. 

Cam. Sir, I will tell you; 

Since I am charged in honour, and by him 
That I think honourable: therefore mark my 
counsel, 408 

Which must be even as swiftly followed as 
I mean to utter 't, or both yourself and me 
Cry "lost," and so good night! 

Pol. On, good Camillo. 

Cam. I am appointed him to murder you. 

Pol. By whom, Camillo? 

Cam. By the king. 

Pd. For what? 

Cam. He thinks, nay, with all confidence 
he swears, 
As he had seen 't, or been an instrument 
To vice* you to 't, that you have touched his 

queen 
Forbiddenly. 

Pol. O, then my best blood turn 

To an infected jelly, and my name 
Be yoked with his that did betray the Best! 
THim then my freshest reputation to 420 

A savour that may strike the duUest nostril 
Where I arrive, and my approach be shunn'd, 
^ay, hated too, worse than the greatest infection 
TTiat e'er was heanl or read 1 

Cam. Swear his thought over* 

IBy each j)articular star in heaven and 
3y ail their influences, you may as well 
Torbid the sea for to obey the moon. 



1 Vice^ screw, force. 

s Swear . . . over, i.e. ovenwear. 



As or by oath remove or counsel shake 
The fabric of his folly, whose foundation 
Is piled upon his faith, and will continue 430 
The standing of his body. 

Pol. How should this grow? 

Cam. I know not: but I 'm sure 't is safer to 

Avoid what 's grown than question how 't is 

bom. 
If, therefore, you dare trust my honesty. 
That lies enclosed in this trunk which you 
Shall bear along impawned, away to-night! 
Your followers I will whisper to the business; 
And will by twos and threes at several posterns 
Clear them o' the city: for myself, I '11 put 
My fortunes to your service, which are here 
By this discovery lost. Be not uncertain; 
For, by the honour of my parents, I 442 

Have utter'd truth : which if you seek to prove, 
I dare not stand by; nor shall you be safer 
Than one condemn'd by the king's own mouth, 

thereon 
His execution sworn. 

Pol. I do believe thee: 

I saw his heart in 's face. Give me thy hand: 
Be pilot to me, and thy places shall 
Still neighbour mine. My ships are ready and 
My people did expect my hence dei>arture 
Two days ago. This jealousy 45i 

Is for a precious creature: as she s rare. 
Must it be great; and, as his person 's mighty, 
Must it be violent; and as he does conceive 
He is dishonour'd by a man which ever 
Profess'd^ to him, why, his revenges must 
In that be made more bitter Fearo'ersluules 

me: 
Good expedition be my friend, and comfort 
The gracious queen, part of his theme, but 

nothing 
Of his ill-ta'en suspicion! Come, Camillo; 
I will respect thee as a father if A6i 

Thou beai-'st my life off hence: let us avoid. 
Cam^ It is in mine authority to command 
The keys of all the posterns: please your high- 
ness 
To take the urgent hour. Come, sir, away. 

[ExeuiU. 

s Prqfei$'d, i.e. profetaed friendship. 
329 



ACT II. Sena I. 



THE WINTEE'S TALE. 



ACT II. 
ScBHB I. A room in LeotUaf palace. 
Enter Herhiohe, Kahillius, and Ladiet. 
Her. Taketheboytofou: heso troDbleBme, 



T is past enduriug. 

Firit Lady. Ck>me, my gracioiu lonl. 

Shall I be your playfellow! 



Mam. No, I '11 none of you. 

FirA Lady. Why, my swett lord ? 

JfatTL You '11 kiaa me hard, and 8p«ak to 



[ were a baby still. I love you bettor. 
Sec. Ladij. And why so, my lord! 
Idam. Not for because 




Your bro' 



~T Ij put ondariDf .-{Act 

i are blacker; yet black browa, 
le women beet, bo that there be 



Too niucli hair there, but in a eeniicircle, lo 
Or a half-moon made with a peu. 

Sec. Lady. Who taught you this? 

Mam. I leani'd it out of woineu's faces. 
Pray now 
What colour are your eyebrowB? 

FirK Lady. Blue, my lord. 



Mam. Nay, tliat'aa mock: I 'v 



abdy's 



That has been blue, but not her eyebrowa 

^Fint Lady. Hark ye;t 

The queen your mother rounds apace: weshallf 
Present our services to a fine new prince i 

One of these days; and then you'd wanton^ 
with ug, \ 

If we would have you. i 

Sec. Lady. She ia apread of lat«S 

Into a goodly bulk: good time encounter her^3( 



ACT II. Scene 1. 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT II. Scene 1. 



I Her. QWhat wisdom stirs amongst you? 
( Come, sir, now 21 

. I am for you again: ^ pray you, sit by us. 
And tell 's a tale. 
Manu Merry or sad shall 't be? 

Her, As merry as you wilL 
Main, A sad tale 's best for winter: Ihaveone 
Of sprites and goblins. 

Her. Let 's have that, good sir. 

Come on, sit down: come on, and do your best 
To fright me with your sprites; you 're power- 
ful at it 
Jfam, There was a man — 
Her. Nay, come, sit down; then on. 

Mam, Dwelt by a churchyard: I will tell it 
softly; 30 

Yond crickets shall not hear it. 

Her, Come on, then, 

And give 't me in mine ear. 

i5ii/«r Leontes, ANTiooy us, Lords, and Quards. 

Leon, Was he met there? his ti'aiu? Camillo 
with him? 

Fir$t Lord, Behind the tuft of pines I met 
them; never 
Saw I men scour so on their way: I eyed them 
Even to their ships. 

Leon, How blest am I 

In my just censure,^ in my true opinion! 
Alack for lesser knowledge! how accuru'd 
In being so blest ! There may be in the cup 
A spider steep'd, and one may drink, depart. 
And yet partake no venom ; for his knowledge 
Is not infected: but if one present 42 

The abhorred ingredient to his eye, make known 
How he hath drunk, he cracks his gorge, his 

sides, 
With violent hefts. I have drunk, and seen 

the spider. 
[Camillo was his help in this, his pander: ] 
There is a plot against my life, my crown; 
All 's true that is mistrusted: that false villain 
Whom I employed was pre-employ'd by him: 
He has discover'd my design, and I 50 

Remain a pinch'd thing; yea, a very trick 
For them to play at wilL How came the posterns 
80 easily open ? 

First Lord, By his great authority; 

1 Cengure, Judgment 



Which often hath no less prevail'd than so 
On your command. 

Leon, 1 know *t too well 

Give me the boy: I am glad you did not nurse 

him: 
Though he does bear some signs of me, yet you 
Have too much blood in him. 

Her, What is this? sport? 

LeoTi, Bear the boy hence; he shall not come 
about her; 
t Away with him ! and let her sport herself «o ; 
With tliat she 's big with; for 't is Polixenes 
Has made thee swell thus. 

Her. But I 'd say he had not. 

And I'll be sworn you would believe my saying, 
Howe'er you lean to the nay ward. 

Leon, ] You, my lords. 

Look on her, mark her well; be but about 
To say, " She is a goodly lady," and 
The justice of your hearts will thereto add, 
"Tis pity she's not honest, honourable:" 
[ Praise her but for this her wi thou t-door form, ^ 
Which, on my faith, deserves high speech, and \ 
straight 70 ^ 

The shrug, the hum, or ha, these petty brands^ 
That calumny doth use; O, I am out, 
That mercy does, for calumny will sear 
Virtue itself: these slirugs, these humsand ha's. 
When you have said "she's goodly," come? 

between, 
Ere you can say "she 's honest :"but]be 't known. 
From him that has most cause to grieve it 

should be. 
She 's an adulteress. 

Her, [ Should a villain say so. 

The most replenished^ villain in the world, 
He were as much more villain: you, my lord. 
Do but mistake. 

Leon, You have mistook, my lady, \ 

Polixenes for Leontes: O thou thing! 
Which I '11 not call a creature of thy place, 
Lest barbarism, making me the precedent. 
Should a like language use to all degrees. 
And mannerly distinguishment leave out 
Betwixt the prince and beggar: I have said 
She 's an adulteress; I have said with whom: ^ 
More, she 's a traitor and Camillo is 
A federary' with her; [and one that knows, 

s RepUniMdt complete, consummate, 
s Federary, confederate, accomplice. 

331 



82/ 



ACT II. Soene 1. 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT II. Scene L 



( What she should shame to know herself 9i 
^But with her most vile principal, that she 's 

< A bed-swerver, even as bad as those 

< That vulgars give bold'st titles; ] ay, and privy 
To this their late escape. 

Her, No, by my life. 

Privy to none of this. How will this grieve you. 
When youshall come to clearer knowledge, that 
You thus have published me! Gentle my lord, 
You scarce can right me throughly then, to say 
You did mistake. 

Leon. No, if I mistake loo 

In those foundations which I build upon, 
The centre is not \fi% enough to bear 
A schoolboy's top. Away with her, to prison! 
He who shall speak for her is afar off guilty 
But that he speaks. 

Her. There's some iU planet reigns: 

I must be patient till the heavens look 
With an aspect more favourable. Good my 

lords, 
I am not prone to weeping, as our sex 
Commonly are; the want of which vain dew 
Perchance shall dry your pities; but I have 
That honourable grief lodged here which bums 
Worse than tears drown : beseech you all, my 
lords, 112 

With thoughts so qualified as your charities 
Shall best instruct you, measure me; and so 
The king's will be perform'd! 

Leon. Shall I be heard ? 

Her, Who is 't that goes with me ? Beseech 
your highness, 
My women may be with me; for, you see. 
My plight requires it. Do not weep, good 

fools; 
There is no cause: when you shall know your 
mistress 119 

Has deserv'd prison, then abound in tears 
As I come out: this action I now go on 
Is for my l)etter grace. Adieu, my lord: 
I never wish'd to see you sorry ; now 
I trust I shall. My women, come; you have 
leave, 
Leon. Gro, do our bidding; hence! 

{^Exeunt Hermimve^ guarded^ ai\d Ladies. 
First Lord. Beseech your highness, call the 

queen again. 
Ant. Be certain what you do, sir, lest your 
justice 

332 



Prove violence; in the which three great ones 
suffer, 12s 

Yourself, your queen, your son. 

First Lord. For her, my lord, 

I dare my life lay down, and will do 't, sir. 
Please you toaccept it, that the queen is spotless 
I' the eyes of heaven and to you; I mean. 
In this which you accuse her. 

t Ant. If it prove 

She 's otherwise, I '11 keep my stables where 
I lodge my wife; I'll go in couples with her; > 
Than when I feel and see her no further trust ? 

her; 
For every inch of woman in the world. 
Ay, every dram of woman's flesh, is false, 
If she be. / 

Leon. Hold your peaces. < 

First Lord. Good my lord, — ^ 

A M. It is for you we speak, not for ourselves : ^ 
You are abused, and by some putter-on* 141 ^ 
That will be damn'd for 't; would I knew the ; 
villain, ; 

I would land -damn him. Be she honour-^ 
flaw'd,— ;; 

I have three daughters; the eldest is eleven; ^ 
The second and the third, nine and some five;^ 
If this prove true, they '11 pay for't: by mine^ 

honour, 
I '11 geld 'em all; fourteen they shall not see, \ 
To bring false generations: they are co-heirs; J 
And I had rather glib myself than they 149 '. 
Should not produce fair issue. 

Leon. Cease; no more. 

You smell this business with a sense as cold 
As is a dead man's nose: but I do see't and 
feel 't, ' 

As you feel doing thus, and see withal 
The instruments that feel. 

Ant. If it be so, > 

We need no grave to bury honesty: / 

There 's not a grain of it the face to sweeten ' 
Of the whole dungy earth. ] 

Leon. What! lack I credit? 

First Lord, I had rather you did lack than 

I, my lord, im 

Upon this ground ; and more it would content me 

To have her honour true than your suspicion. 

Be blam'd for 't how you might. 

-^^^^-^^^^ ■ II — 

1 Futter-ont instigator. 



ACT II. Scene 1. 



THE .WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT II. Scene S. 



\ Leon^ Q Why, what need we 

'Commune with you of this, but rather follow 
;Our forceful instigation? Our prerogative 
) Calls not your counsels ; but our natural goodness 
.'Imparts this: which, if you, or stupefied 
^Or seeming so in skill,^ cannot or will not 
/Relish a truth, like us, inform yourselves 
^ We need no more of your advice: the matter, 
(The loss, the gain, the ordering on 't, is all 
f Properly ours. 

f Ant. And I wish, my liege, 170 

(, You had only in your silent judgment tried it, 
' Without more overture.* 

Leon, How could that be ? ] 

Either thou art most ignorant by age, 
Or thou wert born a fool. Camillo's flight, 
Added to their familiarity, 
t Which was as gross as ever touched conjecture, 
; That lack'd sight only, nought for approbation ' 
< But only seeing, all other circumstances 
^Made up to the deed, ] — doth push on this pro- 
ceeding: 
Yet, for a greater confirmation, 180 

For, in an act of this importance 't were 
Most piteous to be wild,^ I have dispatch'd in 

post* 
To sacred Delphos, to Apollo's temple, 
Cleomenes and Dion, whom you know 
Of stufF'd sufficiency: now, from the oracle 
They will briugall; whose spiritual counsel had, 
Shall stop or spur me. Have I done well ? 
First Lord, Well done, my lord. 
Leon. Though I am satisfied, and need no 
more 
Than what I know, yet shall the oracle lOO 
Give rest to the minds of others, such as he 
Whose ignorant credulity will not 
Come up to the truth. So have we tliought 

it good 
From our free person she should be confin'd. 
Lest that the treachery of the two fled hence 
Be left her to perform. Come, follow us; 
We are to speak in public; for this business 
Will raise* us all. 

Ant. [Ande"] To laughter, as I take it, 
If the good truth were known. [Exeunt. 

1 SUU, cmuiing. > Overture, dUcloiure. 

* Appnbation, attestation. « WUd, i.e. nuh. 

* In pott, in haste, as we say now pott-harte. 

* RaiHt te. rouse. 



Scene II. A prison. 

Enter Paulina, a Oentleman^ and Attendants^ 

Paid. The keeper of the prison, call to him; 
Let him have knowledge who I am. 

[Exit Oentleman, 
Good lady. 
No court in Europe is too good for thee; 
What dost thou then in prison ? 

Re-enter Gentleman^ with the Oaoler. 

Now, good sir^ 
You know me, do you not? 

Oaol. For a worthy lady. 

And one who much I honour. 

Paid. Pray you, then,. 

Conduct me to the queen. 

Oaol. 1 may not, madam: 

To the contrary I have express commandment. 

Paul. Here 's ado. 
To lock up honesty and honour from lO- 

The access of gentle visitors! Is 't lawful, pray 

you. 
To see her women? any of them? Emilia? 

Gaol. So please you, madam, 
To put apart these your attendants, I 
Shall bring Emilia forth. 

Paul. 1 pray now, c^ll her. 

Withdraw yourselves. 

[Exeunt Gentleman and Attendants, 

Gaol. And, madam, 

I must be present at your conference. 

Paul. Well, be 't so, prithee. [Exit Gaoler, 
Here 's such ado to make no stain a stain 
As passes colouring. 

Re-enter Gaoler, with Emilia. 

Dear gentlewoman, 20 
How fares our gracious lady? 

Emil. As well as one so great and so forlorn 
May hold together: on her frights and griefs, 
Which never tender lady hath borne greater, 
She is, something before her time, deliver'd. 

Paid. A boy? 

Ejnil. A daughter; and a goodly babe. 
Lusty, and like to live: the queen receives 
Much comfort in 't; says, " My poor prisoner^ 
I am innocent as you." 

Paul. 1 dare be sworn: 

333 



i' the king, 



ACT II. E 



These dangerous unsafe Innea' 

benbrew them! so 

He must be told on 't, and he shall: the office 
Becomes a woman best ; I 'U take 't upon me : 
If Iproveboney-mouth'd,letmf tougueblister. 
And never to my red-look'd anger be 
The trumpet any more. Pray you, Emilia, 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT It. Sctnc I 



Commend my best obedience to the queen: 
If she dares trust me with her little babe, 
I 'U show 't the king, and undertake to be 
Her EtdTocate to the loud'aL We do not know 
How he may soften at the sight o' the child: 
The silence often of pure innocence il 

Fersuadea when speaking fails. 



ii 




^^HE 


'K 


'■ 






w 




^ 


Hhtkvb! 


w^M 



Emil. Moet worthy madam, 

Your honour and your goodness is so evident, 
That your free undertaking cannot miss 
A thriving issue: there's no lady living 
So meet for this great ermnd. Please jour 

ladyship 
To visit the neit room, I '11 presently 
Acquaint the queen of your most noble offer; 
Who but to-day hammered of this design, 
But durst not tempt a minister of honour, x 
Lest she should be denied. 

Pavl. Tell her, Emilia, 

1 Limit, IkdiIh. 



I 'U use that tongiie I have: if wit flow from 't, 
Asboldnessfrommybosom,let'tnotbedoubt«d 
I shall do good. 

Emil. Now be you bleas'd for it! 

I '11 to the queen : please you, come something 

Oaol. Madam, if 't please the queen to send 
the babe, 
I know not what I shall incur to pass it. 
Having no warrant. 

[ I'utd. You need not fear it, air: i 

The child was prisouer to the womb, and is ^ 
By law and process of great nature thence M i 
C^ed and enfrancbiHed; not a party to X 



ACT II. Soeuo 2. 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT II. Scene 8. 



^ The anger of the king, nor guilty of, 
^ If any be, the trespass of the queen. 
^ Uaoi, I do believe it. ] 

Paul, Do not you fear: upon mine honour, I 
Will stand betwixt you and danger. [Ejceunt, 

Scene III. A room in Leontes' palace. 

Enter Leontes, Antioonus, Lords, and 

^Servants. 

Leon, Nor night nor day no rest: it is but 
weakness 
To bear the matter thus; mere weakness. If 
$ The cause were not in being, — f j>art o' the cause, 
^She the adulteress; for the harlot king 
;Is quite beyond mine arm, out of the blank ^ 
{And level'^ of my brain, plot-proof; but she 
^I can hook to uie: ^ say that she were gone. 
Given to the fire, a moiety of my rest 
Might come to me again. — Who 's there ? 

FirttServ, My lord? 

Leon, How does the boy ? 

First Serv. He took good rest to-night; 
T is hoped his sickness is discharged. u 

LeofL To see his nobleness! 
Conceiving the dishonour of his mother, 
He straight declined, droop'd, took it deeply, 
Fastened and fix'd the shame on 't in himself, 
Threw off his spirit, his appetite, his sleep. 
And downright languishM. Leave me solely : go. 
See how he fares. [Exit ^Servant.] Fie, fie I 

no thought of him: 
TThe very thought of my revenges that way 
Jlecoil upon me: in himself too mighty, 20 
.^nd in his parties, his alliance; let him be, 
Until a time may serve : for present vengeance, 
"TTake it on her. Camillo and Polixenes 
Xaugh at me, make their pastime at my sorrow: 
'TThey should not laugh, if I could reach them; 

nor 
JShall she, within my power. 

Enter Paulina, with a Child. 

First Lord. You must not enter. 

Paul. Nay, rather, good my lords, be second 
to me: 
^ear you his tyrannous passion more, alas, 



1 Blank, the white or boll's^ye of a target; mark. 
*Lntl. aim. 



Than the queen's life ? a gracious innocent soul, 
More free than he is jealous. 

Ant, That 's enough. 

Sec. Atten, Madam, he hath not slept to- 
night; commanded si 
None should come at him. 

Paid, Not so hot, good sir: 

I come to bring him sleep. 'T lb such as you. 
That creep like shadows by him, and do sigh 
At each his needless heavings, such as you 
Nourish the cause of his awaking: I 
Do come with words as medicinal as true. 
Honest as either, to purge him of that humour 
That presses him from sleep. 

Leon. What noise there, ho? 

Paul. No noise, my lonl ; but needful con- 
ference 40 
About some gossips^ for your highness. 

Leon. How! 

Away with that audacious lady! Antigonus, 
I cliai'ged thee that she should not come about 

me: 
I knew she would. 

Ant. I told her so, my lord, 

On your displeasure's peril and oil mine. 
She should not visit you. 

Leon. What, canst not rule her ? 

J'aul. From all dishonesty he can: in this, 
Unless he take tlie course that you have done, 
Commit me for committing honour, trust it, 
He shall not rule me. 

Ant. La you now, you hear: 

When she will take the rein, I let her run; 
But she '11 not stumble. 

PatU. Good my liege, I come; 

And, I beseech you, hear me, who professes 
Myself your loyal servant, your physician, 
Your most obedient councillor, yet that dares 
Less appear so in comforting^ your evils. 
Than such as most seem yours: I say, I come 
From your good queen. 

Leon. Good queen! 

Paul. Good queen, my lord, 

Good queen; I say good queen; 50 

And would by combat make her good, so were I 
A man, the worst about you. 

Leon, Force her hence. 



s Oottipt, ■ponson. 

* Consforting, enconiagiiig. 

335 



ACT II. Soene 8. 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT II. Soene S. 



Paul. Let him that makes but trifles of his 
eyes 
First hand me: ou mine own accord I'll o£f; 
But first I '11 do my errand. The good queen, 
For she is good, hath brought you forth a 

daughter; 
Here 'tis; commends it to your blessing. 

[Lays down the Child, 

Lean. ^OuV. 

A mankind witch! Hence with her, out o' 

door: 
A most intelligencing bawd ! 

Paid. Not so: 

I am as ignorant in that as you 
In so entitling me, and no less honest 70 

Than you are mad; which is enough, I'll 

warrant. 
As this world goes, to pass for honest. 

Leon. Traitors! 

Will you not push her out? Give her the 

bastard. 
[To Antigonus] Thou dotard, thou art woman- 

tir'd,^ unroosted 
By thy dame Partlet here. Take up the bastard ; 
Take 't up, I say; give 't to thy crone. 

Paid. For ever 

Unvenerable be thy hands, if thou 
Tak'st up the princess by that forced baseness 
Which he has put upon't! 

Leon. He dreads his wife. 

Paul. So I would you did; then 'twere past 
all doubt 80 

You 'd call your children yours. 

Leon. A nest of traitors! 

Ant. 1 am none, by this good light 

Paul. Nor I; nor any. 

But one that 's here, and that 's himself; for he 
The sacred honour of himself, his queen's, 
His hopeful son's, his babe's, betrays to slander, 
Whose sting is sharper than the sword's; and 

will not — 
For, as the case now stands, it is a curse 
He cannot be compell'd to 't — once remove 
The root of his opinion, which is rotten 
As ever oak or stone was sound. 

Leon. A callat^ 90 

Of boundless tongue, who late hath beat her 
husband, 



1 Woman-tir'd, henpecked. 

336 



s CaWU, trolL 



And now baits me ! This brat is none of mine ; ^ 
It is the issue of Polixenes: ^ ' 

Hence with it; and together with the dam 
Commit them to the fire! 

Paul. It is yours; 

And, might we lay the old proverb to your 

charge. 
So like you, 't is the worse, f Behold, my lords, ^ 
Although the print be little, the whole matter/ 
And copy of the father, eye, nose, lip; ^ 

The trick of 's frown; his forehead; nay, the/ 
valley, loo^ 

The pretty dimples of his chin and cheek; lus^ 
smiles; ^ 

The very mould and frame of hand, nail, finger: J 
And thou, good goddess Nature, which hast^ 

made it 
So like to him that got it, if thou hast S 

The ordering of the mind too, 'mongst all', 
colours J 

No yellow in 't, lest she suspect, as he doesy \ 
Her children not her husband's! |] / 

Leon. A gross hagl 

And, lozel, thou art worthy to be hang'd, 
That wilt not stay her tongue. 

Ant. Hang all the husbands 

That cannot do that feat, you 11 leave yourself 
Hardly one subject 

Leon. Once more, take her hence. 

Paul. A most unworthy and unnatural lord 
Can do no more. 

Leon. 1 11 ha' thee burnt 

Paul. I care not: 

It is an heretic that makes the fire, 
Not she which bums in 't I '11 not call you 

tyrant; 
But this most cruel usage of your queen — 
Not able to produce more accusation 
Than your own weak-hing'd fancy — some- 
thing savours 
Of tyranny, and will ignoble make you, lao 
Yea, scandalous to the world. 

Leon. On your allegiance. 

Out of the chamber with her! Were I a tyrant. 
Where were her life ? she durst not call me so, 
If she did know me one. Away with her! 

Paul. I pray you, do not push me; I '11 be 
gone. 
Look to your babe, my lord; 'tis yours: Jove 
send her 



ACTU. S 



A better guiding apirit! 

LiuidNf 

You, that are thus ao ten<Ier o'l 

Will never do him good, not oi 

So, so: farewell; we are gone. 

Leoii. Thou, traitor, hast set 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 
What needa these 



[ My child? away with iti Even tbou, that hart ' 
A heart ao tender o'er it, take it hence j 

T hiB folliee, And see it instantiy conaum'd with fire; 

! of you. 129 Even thou and none but thou. Take it upi 
[Exit. straight; { 

n thy wife to Within this hour bring me word 't is done, \ 
And by good testimony, or I '11 seize thy life, ' 




^With what thou else call'st tbine. If thou 

And wilt encouiit«r with my wrath, say mi 
The UistArd- brains with these my proper 
hands 140 

' Shall I dash out. Go, take it to the fire; 
For thou sett'at on thy wife.] 

Aiit. I did not, sir: 

These lords, my noble fellows, it they please, 
Can clear rue in 't. 

Fint I^ird. We can: luy royal liege. 

He is not guilty of her coming hither. 

Leon. You 're liai-s all. 



First Lord. Beseech your highness, give us 
better credit: 
We have always truly serv'd you; and beseech 

you 
So to esteem of us: and on our knees we beg, 
As recompense of onr dear services IH 

Past and to come, that you do change this 

purpose, 
Wliich being so hnrrible, so blcxiily, must 
Lead on to some foul issue: we all kneel. 

Leon. I amafeatherforeach wind that blows: 
Shall I live on, to see this bastani kneel 
And call me father) l>etter burn it now 
337 IM 



ACT II. Soeue 3. 



THE WINTER'S TALK 



ACT IIL Scene 1. 



Than curse it then. But be it; let it live. 
It shall not neither. You, sir, come you hither; 
' Q You that have been so tenderly officious 
With Lady Margery, your midwife there, 
iTo save this bastard's life, — for 't is a bastard, 
•So sure as this beard 's gray, — ] what will you 
adventure 162 

To save this brat's life? 

Ant. Any thing, my lord. 

That my ability may undergo, 
And nobleness impose: at least, thus much: 
I 'U pawn the little blood which I have left 
To save the innocent: any thing possible. 
L€07i. It shall be possible. Swear by this 
sword 
Thou wilt perform my bidding. 

A)U. 1 will, my lord. 

/ Leon, Mark, and perform it: [seest thou? 
I for the fail i7o 

'/ Of any point in 't shall not only be 
^ Death to thyself, but to thy lewd-tongued wife, 
''Whom for this time we pardon.] We enjoin 

thee. 
As thou art liegeman to us, that thou carry 
This female bustai-d hence, and that thou 

bear it 
To some remote and desert place, quite out 
Of our dominions, and that there thou leave it. 
Without more mercy, to its own protection 
And favour of the climate. As by strange for- 
tune 179 
It came to us, I do in justice charge thee, 
On thy soul's peril and thy body's torture. 
That thou commend it strangely ^ tosome place 
Where chance may nurse or end it. Take it 
up. 



Ant, 1 swear to do this, though a present 
death 
Had been more merciful Come on, poor babe : 
Some powerful spirit instruct the kites and 

ravens 
To be thy nurses! Wolves and bears, they say, 
Casting their savageness aside, have done 
Like offices of pity. Sir, be prosperous 
In more than this deed does require! And 
blessing i90 

Against this cruelty light on thy side, 
Poor thing, condenm'd to loss!^ 

[Evii with the Child. 
Leon. No, I '11 not rear 

Another's issue. 

Enter a ^Servant. 

Serv. Please your highness, posU 

From those you sent to the oracle are come 
An hour since: Cleomenes and Dion, 
Being well arriv'd from Delphos, are both 

landed. 
Hasting to the court 

First Lord. So please you, sir, their speed 
Hath been beyond account. 

Leon. Twenty- three days 

ITiey have been absent: 't is good speed; fore- 
tells 
The great Apollo suddenly will have 2uo 

The truth of this appear. Prepare you, IohIp: 
Summon a session, that we may arraign 
Our most disloyal lady; for, as she hath 
Been publicly accus'd, so shall she have 
A just and open trial. While she lives 
My heart will be a biurden to me. Leave me, 
And think upon my bidding. [Exetn^. 



ACT III. 



Scene I. A town in Sicilia. 

Enter Cleomenes and Dion, attended. 

Cleo. The climate's delicate, the air most 
sweet, 
Fertile the isle, the temple much surpassing 
The common praise it bears. 

> Commend U strangely, i.e. commit it as a stranger. 

338 



Dion. 1 shall report, 

For most it caught me, the celeiitial habits, 
Methinks I so should term them, and th< 

reverence 
Of the grave wearers. O, the sacrifice! 
How ceremonious, solemn, and unearthly 
It was i' the offering! 

> Lottt casting away. 



ACT III. Scene 1. 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT III. Scene 2. 



Cleo, But of all, the burst 

And the ear-deafeuing voice o' the oracle, 9 
Kill to Jove's thunder, so surpris'd my sense, 
That I was nothing. 

Dion, If tlie event o' the journey 

Prove as successful to the queen, — O be 't so! — 
As it hath been to us rare, pleasant, speedy, 
The time is worth the use on 't. 

Cleo, Great Apollo 

Turn all to the best! These proclamations, 
So forcing faults upon Henuione, 
I little like. 

Dion. The violent ciirriage of it 
Will clear or end the business: when the oracle, 
Thus by Apollo's great divine seal'd up. 
Shall the contents discover, something rare 
Even then will rush to knowledge. Gro: fresh 
horses! 21 

And gracious be the issue! \^Exeunt, 

Scene II. ^1 court of justice. 

Enter Leoxtes, Lords^ and Officers. 

Leon, This sessions, to our great grief we 

pronounce, 
Even pushes 'gainst our heart: the party tried, 
Tlie daughter of a king, our wife, and one 
Of us too much belov'd Let us be clear'd 
Of being tyrannous, since we so o[)enly 
^*roceed in justice, which shall have due course, 
Even^ to the guilt or the purgation. 
Produce the prisoner. 

Offi. It is his highness' pleiisure that the 

queen 
Appear iu person here in court Silence! 10 

Enter Hermione, guarded; Paulina aivd 
Ladies attending. 

Leon. Read the indictment. 

Ofi. [ReacU] ** Hermione, queen to the worthy 
LeoQtes, king of Sicilia, thou art here accused and 
^iTaigned of high treason, in committing adultery 
^^h Polixenes, king of Bohemia, and conspiring 
^ith Camillo to take away the life of our sovereign 
'^>^l the king, thy royal husband: the pretence' 
^hereof being by circumstances partly laid open, 
^ou, Hermione, contrary to the faith and allegiance 
^' 4 true subject, didst counsel and aid them, for 
*^eir better safety, to fly away by night. " 22 



^ £Den, equal, impartial 



Her. Since what I am to say must be but 
that 23 

Which contradicts my accusation and 
The testimony on my part no other 
But what comes fi'om myself, it shall scarce 

boot me 
To say, "Not guilty:" mine integi'ity 
Being counted falsehood, shall, as I express it, 
Be so receiv'd. But thus, if powers divine 
Behold our human iictions, as they do, so 

I doubt not then but innocence sliall make 
False accusation blush, and tyranny 
Tremble at patience. You, my lord, best know, 
Who least will seem to do so, my i>ast life 
Hath been as continent, as chaste, as true. 
As I am now unhappy; which is more 
Than history can pattern, though devis'd 
And play'd to take spectators. QFor behold me, ' 
A fellow of the royal bed, which owe^ ' 

A moiety of the throne, a great king's daugh- 
ter, 40 
The mother to a hopeful prince, here standing ' 
To prate and talk for life and honour 'fore / 
Who please to come and hear. ] For life, I '^ 

prize it 
As I weigh grief, which I would spare: for 

honour, 
'T is a derivative from me to mine, 
AikI only that I st^md for. I appeal 
To your own conscience, sir, before Polixenes 
Came to your court, how I was in your grace. 
How merite<l to be so; since he came. 
With what encounter* so uncurreiit I so 

Have strain'd,* to aj>j)ear thus : if one jot be- 
yond 
The bound of honour, or in act or will 
That way inclining, Imrden'd l>e the heiirts 
Of all that hear me, and my near'st of kin , 
Cry fie \i]X)n my grave! 

Q Leon. 1 ne'er heanl yet / 

That any of these bolder vices wanted '/ 

Less impudence to gainsay what they did ? 
Than to perform it fii'st. / 

Her. That's true enough;. 

Though 't is a saying, sir, not due to me. 
Leon. You will not own it. 



Her. 



More than mistress of 



> Pretence, design. I 



s Oice, possess. 

* Encounter, bchaviuur or intercourse. 

* Strain'd, swerved. 

339 



ACT III. Scene 2. 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT III. Sceue 2. 



Which comes to me in name of fault, I muBt 
( not 61 

-'At all acknowledge. "] For Polixenes, 
With whom I am accused, I do confess 
I lov'd him as in honour he requir'd, 
With such a kind of love as might become 
A lady like me, with a love even such. 
So and no other, as yourself commanded: 
Which not to have done, I think had been in 

me 
Both disobedience and ingratitude 
To you and toward your friend; whose love 
had spoke, 70 

Even since it could speak, from an mf ant, freely. 
That it was yours. Now, for conspiracy, 
I know not how it tastes; though it be dish'd 
For me to try liow: all I know of it 
Is that Camillo was an honest man; 
And why he left your coui-t, the gods themselves, 
Wotting no more than I, are ignorant. 
Leon. You knew of his dejiarture, as you 
know what 79 

You 've underta'en to do in *s absence. 

Her. Sir, 

You speak a language that I understand not: 
QMy life stands in the level of your dreams, 
; Which I '11 lay down. ] 

'} Leon. Q Your actions are my dreams; 

] You had a bastard by Polixenes, 
\ And I but dream'd it.] As you were paat all 

shame, — 
Those of your fact^ are so, — so past all truth: 
Which to deny concerns more than avails; 
^ Q for as 

jiThy brat hath been cast out, like to itself, 
'No father owning it, — which is, indeed. 
More criminal in thee than it, — so ] thou 90 
Shalt feel our justice; in whose easiest passage 
Look for no less than death. 

Iler. Sir, spare your threats: 

The bug2 which you would fright me with I seek. 
To me can life be no commodity :3 
The crown and comfort of my life, your favour, 
I do give lost; for I do feel it gone. 
But know not how it went My second joy 
And first-fruits of my body, from his jDresence 
I am barrVl, like one infectious. My third 
comfort, 99 

1 Th(^e of your fact, i.e. those who have doue as you 
haye done. s Btig, bugbear. > Commodity, profit. 

340 



Starred most unluckily, is from my breast, 
The innocent milk in its most innocent mouth, 
Haled out to murder: Q myself on every post 
Proclaim'd a strumpet; with immodest hatred 
The child-bed privilege denied, which longs 
To women of all fashion;] lastly, hurried 
Here to this place, i' the open air, before 
I have got strength of limit. Now, my liege. 
Tell me what blessings I have here alive, 
That I should fear to die? Therefore proceed. 
But yet hear this; mistake me not; no life, 
I prize it not a straw, but for mine honour. 
Which I would free, if I shall be condemned 
Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else iis- 
But what your jealousies awake, I tell you, 
T is rigour, and not law. Your honours all, 
I do refer me to the oracle: 
Apollo be my judge I 

First Lard. This your request 

Is altogether just: therefore, bring forth, 
And in Apollo's name, his oracle. 

[Exeunt some Off^n-^ 

Her. The emperor of Itussia was my father ^ 
O that he were alive, and here beholding ISV- 
His daughter's trial! that he did but see 
The flatness of my misery, yet with eyes 
Of pity, not revenge! 

Re-enter Offijcers^ wiih Cleomekes cmd DioK. 

First Offi. You here shall swear upon this^ 
sword of justice. 
That you, Cleomenes and Dion, have 
Been both at Delphos, and from thence have 

brought 
Tliis seal'd-up oracle, by the hand delivered 
Of great Apollo's priest; and that since then 
You have not dar'd to break the holy seal 
Nor read the secrets in 't 

Cleo. Dion. All this we swean 

Leon. Break up the seals and read. 1S2 

Offi,. [Reads] **Hermione is chaste; Polixen 
blameless; Camillo a true subject ; Leontes a jeaIo< 
tyrant ; his innocent babe truly begotten ; and ibi 
lung shall live without an heir, if that which is I 
be not found." 

Lords. Now blessed be the great Apollo! 
Her. 

Leon. Hast thou read truth? 
First Offi^ Ay, my lord; even 

As it is here set down. ^ "*<^ 




THE WINTER'S TALE 



ACT III. E 



Leon. There is no truth at all i' the oracle: 
lie sessinns shall proceed: this is mere false- 

A Senaant rmhe* iit. 
Sen. Mj lord the king, the king! 



Leon. What is the busiuesaT 

^'erv. O air, I shall be hated to report it! 

The prince your son, with mere conceit' and tear 

Of the queen's speed,' is gone. 

Lton. How? gonet 

Serv. Is dead. 




Leon. Apollo's angry; and the lieaveiiH them- 
selves 
lo strike at my injustice. [Ifenaiaiie ncoons.'] 

How now therel 
Paul. This news is niort^d to the queen: 
look down, MS 

lAd see what death is doing. 
Lfoii. Take her hence: 

(er heart isbut o'ercharg'd; she will recover: 
have too much believ'd mine own suspicion: 
ieseech you, tenderly apply to her 
one remedies for life. 

\Jixe7inl Paulina ami Lailiet, mik Her- 



Apollo, panlon 
My great profanenesa 'gainst thine oracle! — 
I 'II reconcile me to Polizeues, 
New woo my queen, recall the goo<l Camillo, 
Whom I proclaim a miui of tnith, of mercy; 
For, being transported by my jealousies 
To bloody thoughtti and to revenge, I choae 
Camillo for the minister, to poison i«i 

ify friend Polixenes; which had been done. 
But that the good mind of Camillo tardied 
Mv swift command, though I with death and 
with 



ACT III. Scene 2. 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT III. Soeue 2. 



Reward did threaten and encourage him, 
Not doing it and being done: he, most humane, 
And liird with honour, to my kingly guest 
Unclasp'd my practice, quit his fortunes here, 
Which you knew great, and to the hazard 
Of all incertainties himself commended, 170 
No richer than his honour: how he glisters 
Through my rust! and how his piety 
Does my deeds make the blacker! 

Re-enter Paulina. 

Paul. Woe the while! 

O, cut my lace, lest my heart, cracking it. 
Break too! 

First Lord. What fit is this, good lady? 
Paul. What studied torments, tyrant, hast 

for me ? 
What wheels? i-acks? fires? what flaying? 

boiling 
In leads or oils? what old or newer torture 
Must I receive, whose every word deserves 
To taste of thy most worst? Thy tyranny 
Together working with thy jealousies, — i8i 
Fancies too weak for boys, too green and idle 
For girls of nine, — O, think what they liave 

done. 
And then run mad indeed, stark mad! for all 
Thy by-gone fooleries were but spices of it. 
That thou betra/dst Polixenes, 'twas nothing; 
Tliat did but show thee, of a fool, inconstant 
And damnable ingrateful: nor was't much, 
Thou wouldst have poison'd good Camillo's 

honour. 
To have him kill a king; poor trespasses, lOO 
More monstrous standing by: whereof I reckon 
The casting forth to crows thy baby daughter. 
To be or none or little; though a devil 
Would have shed water out of fire ere done 't: 
Nor is 't directly laid to thee, the death 
Of the young prince, whose honourable 

thoughts, 
Thoughts high for one so tender, cleft the heart 
That could conceive a gross and foolish sire 
Blemish'd his gracious dam: this is not, no. 
Laid to thy answer: but the last, — O lords. 
When I have said, cry "woe!" — the queen, the 

queen, 201 

The sweet'st, dear'st creature 's dead ; and ven- 
geance for 't 
Not dropped down yet. 

^ 342 



First Lord. The higher powers forbid I 

Paul. 1 say she's dead; I'll swear 't. If 

word nor oath 
Prevail not, go and see: if you can bring 
Tincture^ or lustre in her lip, her eye. 
Heat outwardly or breath within, I '11 serve you 
As I would do the gods. But, O thou tyrant! 
Do not repent these thing?, for they are heavier 
Than all thy woes can stir : therefore betake thee 
To nothing but despair. A thousand knees 
Ten thousand years together, naked, fasting, 
LTpon a barren mountain, and still winter 
In stonn perpetual, could not move the gods 
To look that way thou wert. 

Leon. Gro on, go on : 

Thou canst not speak too much; I have deserv'd 
All tongues to talk their bitterest. 

First Lord. Say no more: 

Howe'er the business goes, you liave made fault 
I' the boldness of your speech. 

Paul. I am sorry for't: 

All faults I make, when I shall come to know 

them, 230 

I do repent. Alas, I have show'd too much 
The rashness of a woman! he is touch'd * 
To the noble heart. What 's gone and what 'a 

past help 
Should be past grief: do not receive afiiiction 
At my petition; I beseech you, rather 
Let me be punish'd, that have minded you 
Of what you should forget. Now, good my liege. 
Sir, royal sir, forgive a foolish woman: 
The love I bore your queen, — lo, fool again ! 
I '11 speak of her no more, nor of your children; 
I '11 not remember you of my own lord, 231 
Who is lost too: take your patience to you, 
And I '11 say nothing. 

Leon. Thou didst speak but well. 

When most the truth; which I receive much 

better 
Than to be pitied of thee. Prithee, bring me 
To the dead bodies of my queen and son: 
One grave shall be for both; upon them shall 
The causes of their death appear, unto 
Our shame perpetual. Once a day I '11 visit 
The chapel where they lie, and tears shed there 
Shall be my recreation: so long as nature 
Will bear up with this exercise, so long 242 

1 Tincture, coloar. 



ACT III. hxwne 2. 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT III. Scene 3. 



I daily vow to use it Come, and lead jne 
To these sorrows. [ExewU, 

Scene III. Bohemia. A desert country 
near the sea. 

Enter Antioonus icith the Childy and 
a Mariner. 

Ant. Thou art perfect,^ then, our ship hath 
touch'd upon 
Tlie deserts of Bohemia? 

Mf'r. Ay, my lord; and fear 

We have landed in ill time: the skies look 

grimly, 
And threaten i)resent blusters. In my con- 
science. 
The heiivenswith that we have in hand are angry 
And frown uj)on 's. 

Ant. Their sacred wills be done! Go, get 
aboard; 
Look to thy l>ark: I '11 not be long before 
I call u]>on thee. 9 

Mar. Make your best haste; and go not 
Too far i' the land: 't is like to l>e loud weather; 
Besides, this place is famous for the creatures 
(^ prey that keep ujxjn \ 

Ant. Cro thou away: 

1 41 follow instantly. 

Mar. I am glad at heart 

To be so rid o' the business. \Exit. 

Ant. Come, i>oor babe: 

I have heard, but not believ'd, the spirits o' 

the dead 
May walk again : if such thing be, thy mother 
Appeared to me last night, for ne'er was dream 
So like a waking. To me comes a creature, 
Sometimes her head on one side, some another; 
I never saw a vessel of like sorrow i!i 

So fiird and so becoming: in pure white robes. 
Like very sanctity, she did approach 
My cabin wliere I lay ; thrice bow'd before me. 
And gasping to begin some speech, her eyes 
Became two spouts: the fur}' si)ent, anon 
Did this break from her: "Good Antigonus, 
Since fate, against thy better disposition. 
Hath made thy person for the thrower-out 
Of my poor babe, according to thine oath. 
Places remote enough are hi Bohemia, .si 

1 PvrftU, well Hsured. 



There weep, and leave it crjing; and, for the 

babe 
Is counted lost for ever, Penlita, 
I prithee, call 't. For this ungentle business. 
Put on thee by my lord, thou ne'er shalt see 
Thy wife Paulina more." And so, with shrieks, 
She melted into air. Affrighted much, 
I did in time collect myself, and thought 
Tliis was 80, and no slumber. Dreams are toys: 
Yet, for this once, yea, su[)ei'8titiou8ly, 40 
I will be squar'd*^ by this. I do believe 
Hennione hath sufferd death; and that 
Apollo would, this being indeed the issue 
Of king Polixenes, it sliould here be laid. 
Either for life or death, u|)on the earth 
Of its right father. Blossom, speed thee well! 
There lie, and there thy character:^ there these; 
Which may, if fortune please, both breed * thee, 

pretty. 
And still rest thine. The storm begins: poor 

wretch, 49 

That, for thy mother's fault art thus eiqxw'd 
To loss and what may follow I Weep I cannot, 
But my heart bleeds; and most accurs'd am I 
To be by oath enjoin'd to this. Farewell! 
The day frowns more and more: thou 'rt like 

to have 
A lullaby too rough: I never saw 
The heavens so dim by day. A savage clamour! 
Well may I get aboard! This is the chase: 
I am gone for ever. \Exit pursued by a hear. 

Enter a Shepherd. 

Shep. I would there were no age between 
ten and three-and-twenty, or that youth would 
sleep out the rest ; Q for there is nothing in 
the between but getting wenches with child, 
wronging the ancientry, stealing, fighting — ] 
Hark you now! Would any but these boiled 
brains of nineteen and two-and-twenty hunt 
this weather? They have scar'd away two 
of my best sheep, which I fear the wolf will 
sooner find than the master: if any where I 
have them, 'tis by the sea-side, browsing of 
ivy. Good luck, an't be thy will! wliat have 
we here ? Mercy on 's, a bame ; ^ a very pretty 
barne! A boy or a child, I wonder ! A pretty 

> Sqr$ar'd, regaUted. 

s Thy character, i.e. the writing concerning thee. 

* Breed, keep. * Bame, i.e. bairn, child. 

343 



THE WINTER'S TALK 



(Hie; a very pretty one; [sure, some Bcape; 
; tliough I am not bookish, yet I can read wait- 
fing-gentle woman in the scape. This has been 
Ssome stair-work, some tnink-work, Home be- 
ihiud-door-work : they were warmer tliat got 
Hhis than the poor thing is here.^ 1 'U take it 

up for pity: yet I 'H tarry till my son come; 

he halloo'd but even now. Whoa, ho, hoa! 



Enter Clt>wn. 



Clo. Hilloa, loa! w 

SItep. Wliat, art bo near? [If thou'lt see 

a thing to talk on when thou art dead and -; 

rotten, J come hither. What ailest thou, man f -~ 
Clo. I have seen two such sights, by sea and 

by land! but I am not to say it is a aea, for it 




is now the sky. betwixt the firmament and it 
you cannot thrust a bodkin's point 

Shep. Why, boy, how ia it? m 

Clo. I woulil you did but see how it chafes, 
how it rages, how it takes up the shore! but 
that's not tf> the point. 0, the most piteous 
cry of the poor souUl sometimes to see 'em, 
and not to see 'em; now the ship boring the 
moon with her uiaiii-mast, anil anon swallowed 
with yeat ' imd froth, as you 'd tlirust a cork 
into a hogshead. And then for the laiiil-ser- 
vice, to see how the bear tore out his ahoiilder- 
bone; how he crieil to me for help, and said 



his name was Antigonus, a nobleman. But to 
make an end of the ship, to see how the sea 
flap-dragon'd it: but, first, how the poor soals 
roared, and the sea mock'd them ; and how the 
poor gentleman roared, and the bear mock'd 
him, both roaring louder than the sea or wea- 
ther. IM 

jS/iep. Name of mercy, when was this, boyi 

Clo. Now, now: I have not wink'd since 1 
saw these sights: the men are not yet cold 
under water, nor the bear half din'd on the 
geiitlemnn: he 's at it now. 

Sliep. Would 1 had been by, to have help'd 
the old man! in 

Clo. I would you had been by the 8hi|>-side, 



ACT III. Scene 3. 



THE WINTER'S TALK 



ACT IV. ^}oene 2. 



to have belp'd her: there your charity would 
Iiave lack'd footing. 114 

Skep, Heavy matters! heavy matters! but 
look thee here, boy. Now bless thyself: thou 
mettest with things dying, I with things new- 
lK>m. Here's a sight for thee; look thee, a 
bearing-cloth^ for a squire's child! look thee 
here; take up, take up, boy; open 't So, let 's 
see: it was told me I should be rich by the 
fairie& This is some changeling: open't 
What's within, boy? 12s 

C%o. You 're a made old man: if the sins of 
your youth are forgiven you, you *re well to 
liTe. Gold! all gold! 

Shep. This is fairy gold, boy, and 't will prove 
ao: up with't, keep it close: home, home, the 



next^ way. We are lucky, boy; and to be so 
still, requires nothing but secrecy. Let my 
sheep go: come, good boy, the next way 
home. 131 

Clo, Gro you the next way with your find- 
ings. I '11 go see if the bear be gone from the 
gentleman, and how much he hath eaten: they 
are never curst,^ but when they are hungry: 
if there be any of him left, I '11 bury it. 

Shep. That 's a good deed. If thou mayest 
discern by that which is left of him what he 
is, fetch me to the sight of him. 

Clo. Marry, will I; and you shall help to 
put him i' the ground. hi 

8h€p, 'Tis a lucky day, boy, and we'll do 
good deeds on 't. [Exeunt, 



ACT IV. 



Scene I. 

Enter Time, the Chorus, 

Time, I, that please some, try all, both joy 

and tenror 
Of good and bad, that make and unfold error. 
Now take upon me, in the name of Time, 
To use my wings. Impute it not a crime 
To me or my swift passage, that I slide 
O'er sixteen years, and leave the growth untried 
Of that wide gap, since it is in my j)Ower 
To o'erthrow law and in one self-boni hour 
To plant and o'erwhelm custom. Let me pass 
The same I am, ere ancient st onler was 10 
Or what is now receiv'd: I witness to 
The times that brought them in; so shall I do 
To the freshest things now reigning, and make 

stale 
The glistering of this present, as my tale 
Now seems to it. Your patience this aUowing, 
I turn my glass, and give my scene such growing 
As you had slept between: Leontes leaving 
The effects of his fond jealousies, so grieving 
That he shuts up himself. Imagine me. 
Gentle spectators, that I now jnay be 20 

In fair Bohemia; and remember well, 
I mentioned a son o' the king's, which Florizel 



1 Bearing-cloth, i.e. christening-cloth. 



I now name to you; and with speed so [)ace 
To speak of Penlita, now grown in grace 
Equal with wondering: what of her ensues, 
I list not* pro[)hesy; but let Time's news 
Be known when 't is brought forth. A shep- 
herd's daughter. 
And what to her adheres, which follows after. 
Is the argument of Time. Of this allow,* 
If ever you have s])ent time worse ere now; 
If never, yet that Time himself doth say 31 
He wishes earnestly you never may. [ExiL 

Scene II. Bofiemiit, The palace of Polireties, 

Etiter PoLiXENES and Cahillo. 

Pol. I pray thee, good Camillo, be no more 
importunate: 't is a sickness denying thee any 
thing; a death to grant this. 

Cam. It is fifteen years since I saw my coun- 
try: though I have fur the most ])art been 
aire<1 abroad, I desire to lay my bones there. 
Besides, the penitent king, my master, liath 
sent for me; to whose feeling sorrows I might 
be some allay, or I o'erween^ to think so, which 
is another spur t4> my dep£u*ture. 10 

Fd, As thou lovest me, Camillo, wi[)e not 

« Xfxt, niffhett. nearest. » Cfirjrf. savafce. 

4 / lint not, i.e. 1 do not chocf e to. 

• AUow, appntve. • O'eneeen, presume. 

345 



ACT IV. Scene 2. 



THE WINTER^S TALE. 



ACT IV. Scene 3. 



out the rest of thy services by leaving me now: 
jQthe need I have of thee, thine own goodness 
/hath made; better not to have had thee than 
/thus to want thee: thou, having made me busi- 
/ nesses which none without thee can sufficiently 
/manage, must either stay to execute them thy- 
self, or take away with thee the very services 
thou hast done; which if I have not enough 
considered, as too much I cannot, to be more 
tliankful to thee shall be my study; and my 
profit therein, the heaping friendships. i] Of 
that fatal country, Sicilia, j>rithee speak no 
more; whose very naming punishes me with 
the remembrance of that penitent, as thou call- 
est him, and reconciled king, my brother; 
whose loss of his most precious queen and 
children are even now to be afresh lamented. 
Say to me, when sawest thou the Prince Flori- 
zel, my son ? Kings are no less unhappy, their 
issue not being gracious, than they ai'e in 
losing them when they have approved their 
virtuea 32 

Cam, Sir, it is three days since I saw the 
prince. What his happier affairs may be, are 
to me unknown : but I have missingly noted, 
he is of late much retired from court, and is 
less frequent to his princely exercises than 
formerly he hath appeared. 

Pol. I have considered so much, Camillo, 
and with some care; so far, that I have eyes 
under my service which look upon his re- 
movedness; from whom I have this intelli- 
gence, that he is seldom from the house of a 
most homely shepherd; a man, they say, that 
from very nothing, and beyond the imagina- 
tion of his neighbours, is grown into an un- 
speakable estate. 

Cam. I have heard, sir, of such a man, who 
hath a daughter of most rare note: the report 
of her is extended more than can be thought 
to begin from such a cottage. 50 

PoL That's likewise part of my intelligence; 
but, I fear, the angle that plucks our son 
thither. Thou shalt accompany us to the 
place; where we will, not appearing what we 
are, have some question^ with the shepherd; 
fix)m whose simplicity I think it not uneasy^ 

1 Frietidnhip*, friendly ■errlces. 

'i Question, conversatioD. 

* Not nneaty, i.e. easy, not difflcult 

346 



to get the cause of my son's resort thither. 
Prithee, be my present partner in this busi- 
ness, and lay aside the thoughts of Sicilia. 
Cam. I willingly obey your command, eo 
Pol. My best Camillo I We must disguise 
ourselves. [Exeunt, 

Scene III. A road near the ShepheixTs 

Cottage. 

Enter Autoltcus, singing. 

When dafifodils begin to peer, 

With, heigh I the doxy over the dale, 
Why, then comes in the sweet o' the year; 

For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale. 

The white sheet bleaching on the hedge. 
With, heigh ! the sweet birds, how they sing I 

Doth set my pugging* tooth on edge; 
For a quart of ale is a dish for a king. 

The lark, that tirra-lirra chants. 

With, heigh! with, heigh! the thrush and the jay. 
Are summer songs for me and my aunts, H 

While we lie tumbling in the hay. 

I have serv'd Prince Florizel and in my time 
wore three-pile;* but now I am out of service: 

But shall 1 go mourn for that, my dear? 

The pale moon shin^ by night: 
And when I wander here and there, 

I then do most go right. 

If tinkers may have leave to live. 

And bear the sow-skin budget, 20 

Then my account I well may give, 

And in the stocks avouch it 

My traffic is sheets; when the kite builds, 
look to lesser linen. My father nam'd me 
Autolycus; who being, aa I am, litter'd under 
Mercury, was likewise a suapper-up of uncon- 
sidered trifles. Q With die and drab I pur- [ 
chas'd this caparison; and my revenue is the^ 
siDy cheat] Gallows and knock are too power- / 
ful on the highway; beating and hanging are 
terrors to me; for the life to come, I deep out 
the thought of it A prize ! a prize ! ss 

Enter Clown. 

Clo. Let me see: every 'leven wether tods; 
every tod yields pound and odd shilling: fif- 
teen hundred shorn, what comee the wool to? 



* P^tgffi*^, thievish. 

* Three-pile, i.e. three-pile velvet 



THE WINTER'S TALK 



Aut. [Atide] If the apriuge hold, the cock 'a 

Clfr. I cannot dot without counters. Let 
me see; whnt am [ to buy for our abeep-ebear- 
ing feast i Three pouud of sugar; five pound 
of currants; rice — what will this sister of mine 
do with ricef But uiy fathei hath made her 
mistress of the feast, and she lays it on She 
hath made me four-aiid twenty nosegays for 
the shearers, three -man sougmen' all, aiid 
vei'y g'lod ones; but the\ are most of them 
means ^ and bases; but one puntan amongst 
them, and he sings psalms to hornpipes I 
luust have salfrou, to coluui the warden pies 
luace; dates, none, that's out of m\ note nut 
megs, seven; a race or two of guiger but that 
I mavbeg; fourjHiuud of prunes, and as many 
of raisins o' the sun. m 

Aut. O that ever I was bom! 

\Oroi>eU on tlie groitiuL 

Cio. V the name of lue t 

Ant. O, help me, help me! pluck but off 
these iiigs; and then, death, death! 

Clo. Alack, poor soul '. thou hast need of 
more rags to lay on tbee, rather than hare 
these olT. 

A«l. O, sir, the loathsomeness of them of- 
fend nie more than the stripes I hare received, 
which are mighty ones und millions. si 

Clu. ALis, poor man ! a million of beating 
laay come to a great matter. 

Aut. Iamrobb'd,Bir,aud beat«ii; my money 
and apparel ta'en from me, and these detest- 
able things put upou me. 

CU). What, by a horseman or a footman? 

Aul. A footman, sweet sir, a footman. eg 

Clo. Indeed, he should be a footman by the 
garments he has left with thee: if this be a 
horseman's coat, it hath seen very hot service. 
Lend me thy hand, I '11 help thee; come, lend 
me thy liaiid. 

Aut. O, good sir, tenderly, ! 

Clo. Alas, poor soul ! 

Ant. U, good sir, softly, good sir! I fear, 
air, my shoulder-blade is out. 

Clo. How uow! canst stand? 

Aut. Softly, dear xir [/>icJ-« Ait pocjtef]; good 
sir, softly. You ha' done me a charitable office. 



Clo. Dost lack any money? I have a little 
money for thee. 83 

Aut. No, good sweet sir; no, I beseech you, 
sir: I have a kiusmaii not past three quarters 
of a mile hence, unto whom I was going; I 
shall there have money or anv thing I want: 




offer me no money, I pray you; that kills my 

Clo. What manner of fellow was he that 
robb'd you? w 

Aut. A fellow, sir, that I have known to go 
about with trolt-my-dames:^ I knew him once 
a servant of the prince: I cannot tell, good 
air, for which of his virtues it was, but be was 
certainly whipp'd out of the court. 

Clo. His vices, you would say; there's no 
virtue whipp'd out of the court: they cherish 
it, to make it stay there; and yet it will no 
more but abide. M 

> TTvU-mg-damf. Pr. trau-mailanu, an old gma. 



ACT IV. Scene X 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT IV. Soene 4. 



Aut. Vices, I would say, sir. I know this 
mail well : he hath been since an ape-bearer; 
then a process-server, a bailiff; then he com- 
passed a motion^ of the Prodigal Sou, and 
married a tinker's wife within a mile where 
my land and living lies; and, having flown 
over many knavish professions, he settled only 
in rogue: some call him Autolycus. 

Clo, Out upon him ! prig,* for my life, prig: 
he haunts wakes, fairs and bear-baitings. 

AtU. Very true, sir; he, sir, he; that's the 
rogue that put me into this apparel. ill 

Clo. Not a more cowardly rogue in all Bo- 
hemia; if you had but look'd big and spit at 
him, he 'd have run. 

AiU. 1 must confess to you, sir, I am no 
fighter: I am false of heart that way; and 
that he knew, I warrant him. 

Clo. How do you now ? 

Aut. Sweet, sir, much better than I was; I 
can stand and walk: I will even take my leave 
of you, and pace softly towards my kinsman'a 

Clo. Shall I bring thee on the way ? 122 

AiU. No, gootl-fac'd sir; no, sweet sir. 

C^o. Then fare thee well: I must go buy 
spices for our sheep-shearing. 

Aut. Prosper you, sweet sir! [Kvit C^own.] 
Your purse is not hot enough to purchase your 
spice. I Ml be with you at your sheep-shear- 
ing too: if I make not this cheat bring out 
another, and the shearers prove sheep, let me 
be unroll'd,^ and my name put in the book of 
virtue I 131 

Jog on, jog on, the footpath way, [Sitiffs. 

And merrily hent* the stile-a: 
A meiry heart goes all the day, 

Your sad tires in a mile-a. [Exit. 

Scene IV. The ShepherdPs Cottage. 

Enter Florizel ami Perdita. 

Flo. Tliese your unusual weeds to each part 
of you 
Do give a life: no shepherdess, but Flora 
Peering in April's front. This your sheep- 
shearing 
Is as a meeting of the petty gods, 

1 Motion, puppet-show. 2 PHg, thief. 

' Unroll'd, struck off the roll of thieves. 
* Sent, clear. 

348 



And you the queen on 't. 

Per. Sir, my gracious lord. 

To chide at your extremes, it not becomes roe: 
O, pardon that I name them ! Your high self, 
The gracious mark o' the laud, you have ob- 

scur'd 
With a swain's wearing,^ and me, poor lowly 

maid. 
Most goddess-like prank'd^ up: but that our 
feasts 10 

In every mess have folly, and the feeders 
Digest it with a custom, I should blush 
To see you so attired; sworn, I think, 
To show myself a glass. 

Flo. I bless the time 

When my good falcon made her flight across 
Tliy father's ground. 

Per. Now Jove afford you cause I 

To me the difference forges dread; your great- 
ness 
Hath not been us'd to fear. Even now I tremble 
To think your father, by some accident, 10 
Should pafis this way as you did: O the Fates ! 
How would he look, to see his work, so noble. 
Vilely bound up] What would he say? Or 

how 
Should I, in these my borrow'd flaunts, behold 
The sternness of his presence ? 

Flo. Apprehend 

Nothing but jollity. The gods themselves, 
Humbling their deities to love, have taken 
The shapes of beasts upon them: Jupiter 
Became a bull, and bellow'd; the green Neptune 
A ram, and bleated ; and the fire-rob'd god, 
Grolden Apollo, a poor humble swain, so 

As I seem now. Their transformations 
Were never for a piece of beauty rarer, 
f Nor in a way so chaste, since my desires 
Run not before mine honour, nor my lusts 
Bum hotter than my faith. ] 

Per. O but, sir. 

Your resolution cannot hold, when *t is 
Oppos'd, as it must be, by the power of the king: 
One of these two must be necessities. 
Which then will speak, that you must change 

this purpose, 
Or I my life. 

Flo. Thou dearest Perdita, 40 



s Wearing, dreaa. 



< Pm9dt'd, drest 



ACT IV. Soeue 4. 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT IV. Scene 4. 



Witli these f orc'd thoughts, I prithee,darken not 
The mii-th o' the feast. Or I '11 be thine, my fair, 
Or not my father's; for I cannot be 
Mine own, nor any thing to any, if 
I be not thine: to this I am most constant, 
Though destiny sfiy no. Be meiry, gentle; 
Strangle such thoughts as these with any thing 
Tliat you behold the while. Your guests are 

coming: 
Lift up your countenance, iis it were the day 
Of celebration of that nuptial which 50 

We two have sworn shall come. 

Per. O Lady Fortune, 

Stand you auspicious ! 

Flo. See, your guests approach: 

Address yourself to entertain them sprightly. 
And let 's be red with mirth. 

EiUer Shepherd^ with Polixenes and Camillo 
disguised; Cloirn, Mopsa, Dorcas, arid 
other Shepherds and Shepherdesses. 

Shep. Fie, daughter ! when my old wife liv'd, 
upon 
This day she was lx>th paiitler, butler, cook. 
Both dame and sen'ant ; welcom'd all, serv'd 

all; 
Would sing her song and dance her turn; now 

here. 
At upi>er end o' the table, now i' the middle; 
On his shoulder, and his; her face o' fire flo 
With labour, and the thing she took to quench 

it 
She would to each one sip. You are retir'd, 
As if you were a feasted one, and not 
The hostess of the meeting : pray you, bid 
Tliese unknown friends to 's welcome; for it is 
A way to make us better friends, more known. 
Come, quench your blushes and present your- 
self 
Tliat which you are, mistress o' the feast: come 

on. 
And bid us welcome to your sheep-shearing. 
As your good fiock shall ]jros])er. 

Per. [To Polixenes'] Sir, welcome : 

It is my father^s will I should take on me 7i 
The hostess-ship o' the day. [To Camillo'] 

You 're welcome, sir. 
Give me those flowers there, Dorcaa Rever- 
end sirs. 
For you there 's rosemaiy and rue; these keep 



Seeming and savour all the winter long : 
Grace and remembrance be to you both. 
And welcome to our shearing ! 

Pol. Shepherdess, 

A fair one are you, well you fit our ages 
With flowers of winter. 

Per. f Sir, the year growing ancient^ 

Not yet on summer's death, nor on the birth 
Of trembling winter, the fairest flowers o' the 
season 81 

Are our carnations and streak'd gillyvors. 
Which some call nature's bastaixls: of tliat kind 
Our rustic garden's barren; and I care not 
To get sli])6 of them. 

Pol. Wherefore, gentle maiden, 

Do you neglect them l 

Per. For* I have heard it said 

There is an art which in their piedness shares 
With great creating nature. 

Pol. Say there be; 

Yet nature is made better by no mean. 
But nature makes that mean : so, o'er that art 
Which vou sav adds to nature, is an art 91 
That nature makes. You see, sweet maid, we 

marry 
A gentler scion to tlie wildest stock, 
And nuike conceive a bark of baser kind 
By bud of nobler race: tliis is an art 
Which does mend nature, change it i-ather, but 
The art itself is nature. 

Per. So it is. 

Pol. Then make your gartlen rich in gilly- 
vors, 98 
And do not call them bastards. 

Per. 1 '11 not put 

The dibble in earth to set one slip of them; 
No more than were I painted I would wish 
This youth should say 't were well, and only 

therefore 
Desire to breed by me.] Here 's flowers for you; 
Hot lavender, mints, savory, marjoram; 
The mangold, that goes U) l)ed wi' the sun 
And with him rises wee]>ing: these are flowers 
Of middle summer, and I think they are given 
To men of middle age. You 're verj' welcome. 

Can\. I should leave gi*azing, were I of your 
flock. 
And only live by gazing. 



1 For, because. 
349 



ACT IV. Scene 4. 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT IV. Scene 4. 



Per. Out, alas ! no 

You 'd be 80 lean, that blasts of January 
Would blow you through and through. Now, 

my fair'st friend, 
I would I had some flowers o' the spring that 

might 
Become your time of day; f and yours, and 

yours. 
That wear upoii your virgin branches yet 
Your maidenheads growing:] O Proserpina, 
For the flowers now, that frighted thou lett'st 

fall 
From Dis's wagon! daffodils, ii8 

That come before the swjdlow dares, and take 
The winds of Marcli with beauty; violets dim. 
But sweeter than the lids of Juno's eyes 
Or Cytherea's breath ; pale primroses, 
That die unmarried, ere they can behold 
Bright Phoebus in his strength, a malady 
Most incident to maids; bold oxlips and 
The crown imperial; lilies of all kinds, 
The flower-de-luce being one ! O, these I lack. 
To make you garlands of; and my sweet friend. 
To strew him o'er and o'er I 

Flo. Q What, like a corse 1 

Per. No, like a bank for love to lie and play 

on; 130 

Not like a corse; or if, not to be buried. 
But quick, and in mine arms.] Come, take 

your flowers: 
Methinks I play as I have seen them do 
In Whitsun pastorals: sure, this robe of mine 
Does change my disposition. 

Flo. What you do 

Still betters what is done. When you speak, 

sweet, 
I'd have you do it ever: when you sing, 
I 'd have you buy and sell so, so give alms, 
Pray so; and, for the ordering your aflairs. 
To sing them too: when you do dance, I wish 

you 140 

A wave o' the sea, that you might ever do 
Nothing but that; move still, still so, 
And own no other function : each your doing, 
So singular in each particular. 
Crowns what you are doing in the present 

deeds, 
That all your acts are queens. 

Per. O Doricles, 

Your praises are too large : but that your youth, 

350 



And the true blood which peeps fairly 

through 't, 
Do plainly give you out an unstain'd shepherd, 
With wisdom I might fear, my Doricles, loo 
You woo'd me the false way. 

Flo. I think you have 

As little skill to fear as I have purpose 
To put you to 't But, come; our dance, I pray: 
Your hand, my Perdita: so turtles pair. 
That never mean to part. 

Per. I '11 swear for 'em. 

Pol. This is the prettiest low-bom lass that 
ever 
Ran on the green-sward : nothing she does or 

seems 
But smacks of something greater than herself, 
Too noble for this place. 

Cam. He tells her something 

That makes her blood look out : good sooth, 
she is itfo 

The queen of curds and cream. 

Clo. Come on, strike up ! 

f Dor. Mopsa must be your mistress: marry, 
garlic, 
To mend her kissing with ! 

Mop. Now, in good time I * 

Clo. Not a wonl, a word; we stand upon 
our manners. 
Come, strike up I] 

[Music. Here a dance of Shepherds and 
Shepherdesses. 
Pol. Pray, good shepherd, what fair swain 
is this 
Which dances with your daughter? 
Shep. They call him Doricles; and boasts 
himself 
To have a worthy feeding:* but I have it 
Upon his own report and I believe it; iTo 

He looks like sooth. He says he loves my 

daughter: 
I think so too; for never gaz'd the moon 
Upon the water, as he'll stand, and read 
As 't were my daughter's eyes: and, to be plain, 
I think there is not half a kiss to choose 
Who loves another best. 

Pol. She dances featlv. 

Shep. So she does any thing; though I re- 
port it, 

1 In good time! h la bonne heure. 

3 A tcorthif feediivg, 1.0. a valuable pasturaRe. 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



Th.1t slioultl be silent: if youog Doricles 
Do light upon Ler, alie shall bring him that 
Which be not dreamg of. iso 

£nier ServaiU. 
Serv. O master, if you did but hear the ped- 
lar at the door, you would never dance again 



aft«r a tabor and pipe; no, the bagpipe could 
not move you: he sings several tunes faster 
than you 'II tell money; he utters tlieni as he 
had eaten ballads and all men's ears grew to 
his tunes. 

CTo. He could never come better; he shall 
come in. I love a ballad but even too well, if 





m .^_— i'— .jriTfladT'TE^ftf; "'lit:' filM 




■ ^'^^j^^^ttBr ' 




^inL4l 




s^'"' > ; y-^^^^^^LifrS' 


i^^^^^*^' .^a^l^^H^^M^^HBK^I^d.j^ 



it be doleful matter merrily set down, or a 
vei^ pteaaaut thing indeed and aung lament- 

Serv. He Lath songs for man or woman, of 
all aizea; no milliner can so fit his cuatomera 
iwith gloves: Qbe has the prettiest love-songs 
/formaide; sowithout bawdry, which is strange; 
with such delicate burdeiia of dildos and fad- 
.inga, "jump her and thump her;" and where 
some Htretch-mouth'd nuK'al would, iis it were, 
mean mischief, and break a foul gap into the 
matter, he makes the maid to answer, " Whoop, 
do n)e no harm, good ni.in;'' puts him off, 
• slights him, with "Whoop, do me no harm, 
'-good man." 201 



Fol. This J8 a brave fellow. ) 

do. Believe me, Uiou talkestof an admir-) 

able conceited fellow. Has he any uubraided/ 

.Vero.] He hath ribands of all the colours i'' 
the rainbow; points more than all the lawyers 
in Bohemia can learnedly handle, though they 
come to him by the gross; inkles,' caddi>>ea,* 
cambrics, lawns: why, he sings 'em over, as 
theyweregod3orgoddeasesf;you would think ^ 
a smock were a nhe-aiigel, he so chants to the 
sleeve-hand and the work about the square 
on'tl 



., UPM. 



) Corfdiw 



ACT IV. Scene 4. 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT IV. 



Clo. Prithee, bring him in; and let him ap- 
proach singing. 214 

Per, Forewarn him that he use no scurrilous 
words in 's tunes. [Exit Servant. 

Clo. You have of these pedlars, that have 
more in them than you 'd think, sister. 

Per. Ay, good brother, or go about to ^ think. 



Enter Autolycus, miging. 



220 



Lawn as white as driven snow; 

C3rpru8 black as e'er was crow; 

Gloves as sweet as damask roees; 

Masks for faces and for noses; 

Bugle ^ bracelet, necklace amber, 

Perfume for a lady's chamber; 

Grolden quoifs and stomachers, 

For my lads to give their dears; 

Pins and poking-sticks of steel, 

What maids lack from head to heel 

Come buy of me, come; come buy, come buy; 

Buy, lads, or else your lasses cry: 231 

Come buy. 

Clo. If I were not in love with Mopsa, thou 
shouldst take no money of me; but being en- 
thrall'd as I am, it will also be the bondage 
of certain ribands and gloves. 

^Mop. I was promised them against the feast; 
but they come not too late now. 

I)or. He hath promis'd you more than that, 
or there be liars. 240 

Mop. He hath paid you all he promis'd you: 
may be, he has paid you more, which will 
shame you to give him again. 

Clo. Is there no manners left among maids? 
will they wear their plackets where they 
should bear their faces? Is there not milking- 
time, when you are going to bed, or kiln-hole, 
to whistle-off these secrets, but you must be 
tittle-tattling before all our guests? T is well 
they are whispering: clamour' your tongues, 
and not a word more. 251 

Mop. I have done. Come, you promis'd 
me a tawdry-lace and a pair of sweet gloves. 

Clo. Have I not told thee how I was cozen'd 
by the way, and lost all my money? 

Ant. And, indeed, sir, there are cozeners 
abroad ; therefore it behoves men to be wary. 

Clo. Fear not thou, man, thou shalt lose 
nothing here. 



1 Oo about to, if. am going to. 
3 Bttgle, bead of black glawi. 

352 



s Clanumr, stop. 



AtU. 1 hope so, sir; for I have ab< 
many parcels of charge. 

Clo. 2 What hast here? ballads? 

Mop. Pray now, buy some : I love a 
in print a-life,* for then we are sure tl 
true. 

^AtU. Here *8 one to a very doleful tui 
a usurer^s wife was brought to bed of 
money-bags at a burthen, and how she 
to eat adders' heads and toads carbona 

Mop. Is it true, think you? 

Aut. Very true, and but a month 6L 

Dor. Bless me from marrying a usw 

Aut. Here's the midwife's name U 
Mrs. Taleporter, and five or six hones 
that were present. Why should I can 
abroad? 

Mop. Pray you now, buy it. 

do. Come on, lay it by: and let's i 
moe ballads; we '11 buy the other things 

AiU. Here 's another ballad of a fis 
appeared upon the coast on Wednesc 
fourscore of April, forty thousand 
above water, and sung this ballad agai 
hard hearts of maids: Qit was thought i 
a woman, and was tum'd into a cold 
she would not exchange flesh with oi 
lov'd her:] the ballad is very pitifol, 
true. 

Dor. Is it true too, think you ? 

Aut. Five justices' hands at it» ai 
nesses more than my pack will hold. 

Clo. Lay it by too: another. 

Aut. This is a merry ballad, but 
pretty one. 

Mop. Let 's have some merry ones. 

Aut. Why, this is a passing merry 
goes to the tune of "Two maids w< 
man:" there's scarce a maid westwa 
she sings it; 't is in request, I can tell 

Mop. We can both sing it: if thou' 
a part, thou slialt hear; 't is in three pi 

Dor. We had the tune on 't a montli 

Aut. I can bear my part; you mus 
't is my occupation: have at it with yo 

Song. 

A ut. Get you hence, for I must go 
Where it fits not you to know. 

« A4if€, i.e. of life, of aU things in life 
* darbanado'd, cut in slices for broiUii 



ACT IV. Sceut) 4. 



THE WINTEirS TALE. 



ACT IV. Scene 4. 



ZX>r. Whither? Afo/>. O, whither? Z>or. Whither? ' 
Mop. It bccomeH thy oath full well, 
Thou to me thy secrets tell: 

Dor. Me too, let me go thither. 

.Mop. Or thou goest to the grange or mill: 

Dor. If to either, thou dout ill 810 

-•!«<. Neither. Z>or. Wliat, neither ? ^u<. Neither. 
I}or. Thou hast sworn my love to be ; 
Mop. Thou host sworn it more to uie: 

Then, whither goest ? say, whither? 

Clo. We '11 have this song out anou by our- 
selves: wy father aud the geutlemen are in 
8a(P talk, and we '11 not trouble them. Come, 
bring away thy i>ack after me. Wenches, I '11 
buy for you both. Pedlar, let 's liave the first 
choice. Follow me, girk. S20 

[Kvit with Dorcan and Mopta, 
Aut. And you shall jjay well for 'em. 

[Follows sinking. 

Will you buy any tape, 

Or lace for your cape. 
My dainty duck, my dear-a? 

Any silk, any thread. 

Any toys for your head. 
Of the new'st and fin'st, fin'st wear-a? 

Come to the pedlar ; 

Money 's a meddler. 
That doth utter all men's ware-a. 330 

[Eant, 

( ^lie-enter ServaiU, 

Serv. Master, there is three carters, three 

shepherds, three neat-herds, three swine-herds, 

: that have made themselves all men of hair, they 

call themselves Saltiers, and Uiey have a dance 

; which the wenches say is a gallimaufry^ of 

gambols, because they are not in 't ; but they 

themselves are o' the mind, if it be not too 

rough for some that know little but bowling, 

.it will ]>lease plentifully. 3S9 

JS/ujp. Away! we '11 none on 't: here has been 

too much homely foolery already. I know, 

-sir, We weary you. 

Pol. You wejiry those that refresh us: pray, 
let 's see these four threes of herdsmen. 

Serv, One three of them, by their own re- 
I)ort, sir, hath danc'd before the king; and 
not the worst of the three but jumps twelve 
foot and a half by the squire.^ 

1 Sad. lerioua. 

> OaUimaii/ry, medley. 

* Squire, foot-rale. 

VOL. VII. 



Shep. Leave your prating: since these good ; 
men are ]>leas'd, let them come in; but quickly 

now. 351 

iServ, Why, they stay at door, sir. [Exit."^ 

Here a dance of twelve Satyrs, 

Pol. O father, you'll know more of that 
hereafter. 
[To Camillo'] Is it not too far gone? 'T is 

time to part them. 
He 's simple and tells much. How now, fair 

shepherd ! 
Your heart is full of something that does take 
Your mind from feasting. Sooth, when I was 

young. 
And handed love as you do, I was wont 
To load my slie with knacks: I would have 
ransack'd 860 

The pedhir's silken treasury, and have poured it 
To her acceptance; you have let him go 
And nothing mailed* with him. If your lass 
Interpretation should abuse, and call this 
Your lack of love or bounty, you were straited 
For a reply, at least if you make a care 
Of happy holding her. 

Flo. Old sir, I know 

She prizes not such trifies as these are: 
The gifts she looks from me are pack'd and 
lock'd 3«9 

Up in my heart; which I have given already, 
But not deliver'd. O, hear me breathe my life 
Before this ancient sir, who, it should seem, 
Hath sometime lov'd ! I take thy hand, this 

hand, 
As soft as dove's down and as white as it, 
Or Ethiopian's t<x)tli, or the fami'd snow that's 

lx)lted 
By the northern blasts twice o'er. 

Pol. What follows this ? 

How prettily the young swain seems to wash 
The hand was fair before ! I have jiut you out: 
But to your protestation; let me hear 379 
What you profess. 
/7o. Do, and be witness to 't 

Pol. And this my neighbour too i 
Flo. And he, and more 

Than he, and men, the eartli, the heavens, 
and all: 



« MarUd. traded. 
353 



189 



THE WINTER'S TALK 



Th&t, were I crowo'd the most imiierial nion- 

arch, 
Thereof moat worthy, were I the fairest youth 
That ever made eje swerve, had force and 

knowledge 
More than was ever man's, I would not prize 

Without her love; for her employ them all; 



ACT IV. SoiM 1. 

lentu them to her 



Commend them and 

service Ms 

Or to their own perdition. 

Pol. Fairly offer'd. 

Cam. This shows a sound affection. 

Shep. But, my dau^ter. 

Say you the like to himl 

Per. I cannot apeak 




So well, nothing so well; no, nor mean better: 
By the pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out 
The purity of his. 

Me/), Take hands, a bargain ! 

And, friends unknown, you shall bear witness 

to't: 
I give my daughter to him, and will make 
Her portion equal his. 

Flo. O, that must be 

I' the virtue of your daughter: one being dead, 
I shall have more than you can dream of yet; 
Enough then for your wonder. But, come on, 
Contract us 'fore tl 

354 



Sliep. Come, your band; 

And, daughter, yours. 

Pol. Soft, swain, awhile, beseech you; 

Have you a father? 

Flo. I have: but what of himi 

Pol. Knows he of thist 

Flo. He neither does nor ahalL 

Pol. Methinks a father 
Ih, at tlie nuptial of his son, a guest 
That best becomes the table. [ Pray you, once 

la not your father grown incapable i 

Of reasonable affairsl is he not stupid ' 



ACT IV. Soeott 4. 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT IV. Scene 4. 



^With age and altering rheums? can he speak? 
? hear? 4io 

' Kino w man from man ? dispute^ his own estate ? 
; Lies he not bed-rid ? and again does nothing 
But what he did being childish? 
■; Flo. No, good sir; 

;He has his health, and ampler strength indeed 
Than most have of his age. 
' Pol, By my white beard, 

You offer him, if this be so, a wrong 
Something unfilial : 3 reason my son 
Should choose himself a wife, but as good 

reason 
The father, all whose joy is nothing else 
But fair posterity, should hold some counsel 
In such a business. 

Flo. I yield all this; 421 

But, for some other reasons, my grave sir. 
Which 't is not fit you know, I not acquaint 
My father of this business. 
Pol. Let him know 't. 

Flo. He shall not. 
Pol. Prithee, let him. 

Fh. No, he must not 

Shep. Let him, my son : he shall not need to 
grieve 
At knowing of thy choice. 

Flo. Come, come, he must not. — 

^ark our contr&ct. 

Pol. Mark your divorce, young sir, 

[Throws off his disguise. 
^Whom son I dare not call; thou art too base 
To be acknowledged: thou a sceptre's heir, 
That thus affects a sheep-hook! Thou old 
traitor, 431 

X am sorry that by hanging thee I can but 
Shorten thy life one week. — And thou, fresh 

piece 
Of excellent witchcraft, who of force must 

know 
The royal fool thou cop'st with, — 
Shcp. O my heart ! 

Pol. I'll have thy beauty scratch'd with 
briers, and made 
More homely tliau thy state. For thee, fond 

If I may ever know thou dost but sigh 
That thou no more slialt see this knack as never 

1 Dispute^ diicuas. 



I mean thou shalt, we '11 bar thee from suc- 
cession; 440 
Not hold thee of our blood, no, not our kin. 
Far* than Deucalion off: mark thou my words: 
Follow us to the court f Thou churl, for this 

time, 
Though full of our displeasure, yet we free thee 
From the dead blow of it And you, enchant- 
ment, — 
Worthy enough a herdsman; yea, him too 
That makes himself, but for our honour therein, 
Unworthy thee, — if ever henceforth thou 
These rural latches to his entrance open. 
Or hoop his body more with thy embraces, 

I will devise a death as cruel for thee 451 S 

I. 

As thou art tender to 't ] [Exit. ^ 

Per. f Even here undone ! > 

I was not much af eard ; for once or twice I 
I was al)Out to speak and tell him plainly, > 
The selfsame sun that shines upon his court / 
Hides not his visage from our cottage, but ,• 
Looks on alike.] [To Florizet] Will 't pi ease 

you, sir, be gone? 
I told you what would come of this: beseech you, 
Of your own state take care: this dream of 
mine, — 459 

Being now awake, I '11 queen it no inch farther, 
But milk my ewes and weep. 

QCVewi. Why, how now, father!) 

Speak ere thou diest / 

IShep. I cannot speak, nor think, / 

Nor dare to know that which I know. [To\ 

Florizel] O sir, 

You have undone a man of fourscore three. 

That thought to fill his grave in quiet; yea, 

To die upon the bed my father died, 

To lie close by hLj honest bones: but now '<i 

Some hangman must put on my sliroud and ^ 

lay me ^ 

Where no priest shovels in dust [To Perdita]\ 

O cursed wretch, '. 

That knew'st this was the prince, and wouldst^ 

adventure 470^ 

To mingle faith with him! Undone! undone!^ 

If I might die within this hour, I have liv'd j 

To die when 1 desire. [Kvit. ];! 

Flo. Why look you so upon me? 

I am but sorry, not afeard, dela/d, 



s Far, Le. O.'&./erre^ comp.= farther. 
366 



ACT IV. Scene 4. 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT IV. SooM i 



But nothing altered: what I was, I am; 
[More straining on for phicking back, not 

following 
My leash unwillingly. 

Cam. Gracious my lord, 

You know your father's temper: at this time 
He will allow no speech, which I do guess 
You do not pur{X)se to him; and as hardly 
Will he endure your sight as yet, I fear: 
Then, till the fury of his highness settle. 
Come not before him. 

Mo. I not purpose it. 483 

I think, Camillo? 

Cani, Even he, my lord. 

Per. How often have I told you *t would be 
thus! 
How often said my dignity would last 
But till 't were known I 

Flo. It cannot fail but by 

The violation of my faith; and then 
Let nature crush the sides o* the earth together 
And mar the seeds within I ] Lift up thy looks : 
From my succession wipe me, father, I 491 
Am heir to my affection. 

Cam. Be advis'd. 

Flo. I am, and by my fancy :^ if my reason 
Will thereto be obedient, I have reason; 
If not, my senses, better pleas'd with madness, 
Do bid it welcome. 

Cam. Tliis is desperate, sir. 

Flo. So call it: but it does fulfil my vow; 
I needs must think it honesty. Camillo, 
Not for Bohemia, nor the pomp that may 
Be thereat gleau'd; for all the sun sees, or 
The close earth wombs, or the profound seas 
hides 501 

In unknown fathoms, will I break my oath 
To this my fair belov'd: therefore, I pray you. 
As you have ever been my father's honour'd 

friend. 
When he shall miss me, — as, in faith, I mean not 
To see him any more, — cast your good counsels 
Upon his passion : let myself and fortune 
Tug for the time to come. This you may know. 
And so deliver, I am put to sea 509 

With her who here I cannot hold on shore; 
And most opj)6rtune to her need I have 
A vessel rides fast by, but not prepar'd 

1 Fancy, love. 
356 



For this design. What course I mean to hold 
Shall nothing benefit your knowledge, nor 
Concern me the reporting. 

Cam. O my lord, 

I would your spirit were easier for advice, 
Or stronger for your need! 

Flo. Hark, Perdita. [Dratcs her aside. 
[To Camillo] I '11 hear you by and by. 

Cam. He 's irremovable, 

Resolv'd for flight. Now were I happy, if 
His going I could frame to serve my turn, 
Save him from danger, do him love and honour, 
Purchase the sight again of dear Sicilia, 52s 
And that unliappy king my master, whom 
I so much thirst to see. 

Flo. Now, good Camillo; 

I am so fraught with curious^ business that 
I leave out ceremony. 

Q Cam. Sir, I think ^ 

You have heard of my poor services, i' the love . 
That I have borne your father? c 

Flo. Very nobly : 

Have you deserv'd: it is my fathei-'s music <; 
To si>eak your deeds, not little of his care ^ 
To have them recompensed as thought on. \ 

Cam. Well, my lord,; 

If you may please to think I love the king, '^ 
And through him what is nearest to him,; 

which is 
Your gracious self, embrace but my direction, 
If your more pondei*ous and settled project \ 
May suffer alteration, on mine honour ;. 

1 11 point you where you shall have such re- '. 
ceiving 537 • 

As shall become your highness; where youmay 
Enjoy your mistress, from the whom, I see. 
There 's no disjunction to be made, but by — \ 
As heavens forfend! — your ruin; marr}' her, ! 
And, with my best endeavours in your absence. 
Your discontenting father strive to qualify 
And bring him up to liking. 

Flo. How, Camillo, 

May this, almost a miracle, be done? 
That I may call thee something more than man 
And after that trust to thee. ] 

Cam. Have you thought on 

A place whereto you '11 go ? 

Mo. Not any yet: 

' CuritnUf requiring care. 



ACT lY. Scene 4. 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT IV. Scene 4. 



But as the unthonght-on accideut is guilty 
To what we wildly do, so we profess 660 

Ourselves to be the slaves of chance, and flies 
Of every wind that blows. 

Cam. Then list to me: 

This follows, if you will not change your pur- 
pose. 
But undergo this flighty make for Sicilia, 
And there present yourself and your fair prin- 
cess. 
For so I see she must be, 'fore Leontes: 
She shall be habited as it becomes 
The partner of your bed. Methinks I see 
Leontes opening his free arms and weeping 
His welcomes forth; asks thee the son foi^ve- 
ness, 660 

As'twerei'the father's person; kisses the hands 
Of your fresh princess ; o'er and o'er divides him 
'Twixt hisunkindnessand his kindness; the one 
He chides to hell and bids the other grow 
Faster than thought or time. 

Flo, Worthy Camillo, 

What colour for my Wsitation shall I 
Hold up before him ? 

Cam. Sent by the king your father 

To greet him and to give him comforts. Sir, 
The manner of your bearing towards him, with 
What you as from your father shall deliver, 
ThingH known l)etwixt us three, I '11 write you 
down: 571 

The which shall point you forth at every sitting 
What you must say; that he shall not perceive 
But that you have your fathei-'s bosom there, 
And speak his very heart. 

Flo, I am bound to you: 

There is some sap in this. 

Cam, A course more promising 

Than a wild dedication of yourselves 
To unpath'd waters, undream'd shores, most 
certain 678 

To miseries enough: no hope to help you, 
But, as you shake off one to take another: 
Nothing so certain as your anchors, who 
Do their best office, if they can but stay you 
Where you '11 be loth to be : besides you know 
Prosperity 's the very bond of love. 
Whose fresh complexion and whose heart to- 
gether 
Affliction alters. 

Per. One of these is true: 



I think affliction may subdue the cheek, 
But not take in^ the mind. 

Cam. Yea, say you so? 

There shall not at your father's house these 

seven years 
Be born another such. 

Flo. My good Camillo, 690 

She is as forward of her breeding as 
She is i' the rear 'our* birth. 

Cam. I cannot say 't is pity 

She lacks instructions, for she seems a mistress 
To most that teach. 

Per. Your pardon, sir; for this 

I '11 blush you thanks. 

Flo. My prettiest Perdita! 

But O the thorns we stand upon! Camillo, 
Preserver of my father, now of me, 
The medicine of our house, how shall we do ? 
We are not f urnish'd like Bohemia's son. 
Nor sliall appear in Sicilia. 

Cam. My lord, eoo 

Fear none of this: I think you know my for- 
tunes 
Do all lie there: it shall l)e so my care 
To have you royally appointed as if 
The scene you play were mine. For instance, 

sir. 
That yon may know you shall not want, — one 
word. [They talk aside. 

lie-enter Autolycus. 

Aut Ha, ha! what a fool Honesty is I and 
Trust, his sworn brother, a very simple gentle- 
man! I have sold all my trumpery; not a 
counterfeit stone, not a riband, glass, poman- 
der,^ brooch, table-book, ballad, knife, tape, 
glove, shoe-tie, bracelet, horn-ring, to keep my 
pack from fasting: they throng who should 
buy first, as if my trinkets had been hallowed 
and brought a benediction to the buyer: by 
which means I saw whose purse was best in 
picture; and what I saw, to my good use I re- 
member'd. My clown, who wants but some- 
thing to be a reasonable man, grew so in love 
with the wenches' song, that he would not stir 
his ])ettitoes^ till he had both tune and words; 



1 Take in, sabdue. 

3 Rear 'our, a contraction for rear of our. 

* Pomander, a ball of perfamei. 

« Pettitoe*, literally pigt' feet. 

3r)7 



ACT IV. Soene 4. 



THE WINTER'S TALK 



ACT IV. Boene 4. 



which SO drew the rest of the herd to me, that 
;. all their other seiises stuck in ears; [you might 
•have pinch'd a placket, it was senseless; 'twas 
^nothing to geld a codpiece of a purse;] I would 
have fil'd keys off that hung in chains: no 
hearing, no feeling, but my sir's song, and ad- 
miring the nothing of it. So that, in this time 
of lethargy, I pick'd and cut most of their 
festival purses; and had not the old man come 
in with a whoo-bub against his daughter and 
the king's son, and scar'd my choughs from 
the chaff, I had not left a purse alive in the 
whole army. [CamiUo^ Flarizely and Perdita 

come forward. 

Cam, Nay, but my letters, by this means 
being there C32 

So soon as you arrive, shall clear that doubt. 

Flo. And those that you'll procure from 
King Leontes — 

Cam. Shall satisfy your father 

Per. Happy be you! 

All that you speak shows fair. 

Cam. [Sees xiutolyciis] Who have we here? 
We '11 make an instrument of this; omit 
Nothing may give us aid. 

Aut. If they have overheard me now, why, 
lianging. 640 

Cam. How now, good fellow! why shak'st 
thou so? Fear not, man; here 's no harm in- 
tended to thee. 

Aut. I am a poor fellow, sir. 

Cam. Why, be so still; here's nobody will 
steal that from thee: yet, for the outside of 
thy poverty we must make an exchange ; there- 
fore disease thee instantly, — thou must think 
there 's a necessity in't, — and change garments 
with this gentleman : though the pennyworth 
on his side be the worst, yet hold thee, there 's 
some boot.^ 65i 

Aut. I am a poor fellow, sir. [Aside] I 
know ye well enougL 

Cam. Nay, prithee, dispatch: the gentleman 
is half flay'd already. 

AtU. Are you in earnest, sir? [Aside\ I 
smell the trick on 't. 

Flo. Disimtch, I prithee. 

Aut. Indeed, I have had earnest; but I can- 
not with conscience take it. 6«o 



I Sonne hoot, i.e. something to boot 
358 



Cam. Unbuckle, unbuckle. — 

[Floruel and AiUolycus change garments. 
Fortunate mistress, — let my prophecy 
Come home to ye! — you must retire yourself 
Into some covert: take your sweetheart's hat 
And pluck it o'er your brows, muffle your 

face. 
Dismantle you, and, as you can, disliken 
The truth of your own seeming ; that you may — 
For I do fear eyes over — to shipboard 
Get undescried. 

Per. I see the play so lies 

That I must bear a part. 

Cam. No remedy. «7o 

Have you done there? 

Flo. Should I now meet my father, 

He would not call me son. 

Cam. Nay, you shall have no hat 

[Giving it to Perdita. 
Come, lady, come. Farewell, my friend. 

Aut. Adieu, sir. 

Flo. O Perdita, what have we twain foi^ot! 
Pray you, a word. 

Cam. [Aside] What I do next, shall be to 
tell the king 
Of this escape and whither they are bound; 
Wherein, my hojHj is, I shall so prevail 
To force him after: in whose company 
I shall review* Sicilia, for whose sight 680 
I liave a woman's longing. 

Flo. Fortune speed us! 

Tlius we set on, Camillo, to the sea-side. 

Cam. The swifter speed the better. 

[Exeunt Florizel, Perdita, and Camillo. 

Aut. 1 understand the business, I hear it: 
to have an open ear, a quick eye, and a nimble 
hand, is necessary for a cut-purse; a good nose 
is requisite also, to smell out work for the 
other senses. I see this is the time that the 
unjust man doth thrive. What an exchange 
had this been without boot! What a boot is 
here with this exchange! Sure the gods do 
this year connive at us, and we may do any 
thing extempore. The prince himself is about 
a piece of iniquity, stealing away from his 
father with lus clog at his heels: if I thought 
it were a piece of honesty to acquaint the king 
withal, I would not do't: I hold it the more 

s Review, tee again. 



THE WINTER'S TALK 



knavery to conceal it; and thereiu am I con- 
btiuit tu my profeaeion. sm 

lU-ciiter tlotcii and Shepherd. 
Aside, aside; here ia more matter for a hot 
brain: every lane's eii<I, every shop, church, 
iWdHion, hanging, yields a careful uuin work. 

Clo. See, see; wliat a man yuu are now! 
There is no other way but to tell the king ahe's 
a chaugeliiig aiid none of your flesh and blood. 

Shep. Nay, but hear me, 

Clo. Nay, but hear me. 

Skep. Go to, then. io» 

Clo. She being none of your flesh and blood, 
your flesli and blood has not offended the king; 
and HO your tlesh and blood is not to be puii- 
iah'd by him. Show those things you found 
about lier, those secret things, all but what she 
liaa with her: this being done, let the law gu 
whistle: I warrant you. 

Shep. I will tell the king all, every word, 
yea, and his son's pranks too; who, I may say, 
is uo honest man, neither to his father nor to 
me,togoal>out to make me the king'sbi'other- 

Clii. Indeed, brother-in-law was the furthest 
off you could have been i 
blood had been the dei 

Aut. [J»irfe] Verj- wisely, jinpities! 

Shep. Well, let ustotlie kiug: there iathat 
in thisfardel' will make him scratch his beard. 

Aut. \_Atide\ I know not what impediment 
this complaint may be to the flight of my 
maater. 

Clo. Pray heartily he be at palace. T31 

Atil. {A*uie\ Though I am not naturally 
honest, I am so sometimes by chance: let me 
pocket up my pedler'a exci-ement [Taka off 
At» fahe btard.'l How now, rustics! whither 
are you bound? 

tihep. Tu the palace, an it like your worship^ 

Aat. Your affairs there, what, with whom, 
the condition of that fardel, the place of your 
dwelling, your ;iameB, your agea, of what 
having,' breeding, and any thing that is fitting 
t") be known, discover. 7*S 

[ Clo. We are but pbin fellows, air. 



o him, and then your 
rer by I know how 



Aut. A lie; you are rough and hairy. Let^ 
Tie have no lying: it becomes none but trades- 
nen, and they often give us soldiers the lie: 
3Ut we pay them for it with stJimped coin, 
lot stabbing steel; therefore they do not give ■ 
13 the he. 7« 

Clo. Yourwonhip had like to have given 




us one, if you had not taken youraelf with the' 
mancr.-] 

Shep. Are yuu a courtier, an 't like you, airt 
.1 III. Whether it like me or no, I am a cour- 
tier. Seest thou not the air of the court in 
these enfoldings? hath not my gait in it the 
measure* of the court? receives not thy nose 
court-oilour from mel reflect I not on thy 
baseness couit-contempti Thiuk'st thou, for 
that I insinuate, or twize from thee thy bosi- 



ACT IV. Scene 4. 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT IV. Scene 4. 



nesft, I am therefore no courtier? I am cour- 
tier cap-a-pe; and one that will either push 
on or pluck back thy business there: where- 
upon I command thee to open thy affair. 

Shep. My business, sir, is to the king. 

Aut. What advocate hast thou to him? 

Shep, I know not, an 't like you. 
J f Clo. [Aside to Shepherd] Advocate 's the 
^ court- word for a pheasant: say you have 
none. 

Sh^. None, sir; I have no pheasant, cock 
I nor hen. ] ni 

Aut. How blessed are we that are not simple 
men! 
Yet nature might have made me as these are, 
Therefore I will not disdain. 

Clo. [Aside to Shepherd] This camiot be but 
a great courtier. 

Shep. [Aside to Clowti] His garments are 
rich, but he wears them not handsomely. 

Clo. [Aside to Shepherd] He seems to be the 
more noble in being fantastical: a great man, 
I '11 warrant; I know by the picking on's teeth. 

Aut. The fardel there? what 's i' the fardel? 
Wlierefore that box ? 782 

Sfvep. Sir, there lies such secrets in this 
fardel and box, which none must know but 
the king; and which he shall know within 
this hour, if I may come to the speech of him. 

A ut. Age, thou hast lost thy labour. 

Shep. Why, sir? 

Aut. Tlie king is not at the palace; he is 
gone aboard a new ship to i)urge melancholy 
and air himself: for, if thou beest capable of 
things serious, thou must know the king is 
full of grief. 792 

Shep. So 'tis said, sir; about his son, that 
should have married a shepherd's daughter. 

Aut. If that shepherd be not in hand-fast,^ 
let him fly: the curses he shall have, the tor- 
tures he shall feel, will break the back of man, 
the heart of monster. 

Clo. Think you so, sir? 799 

Aut. Not he alone sliall suffer what wit can 
make heavy and vengeance bitter; but those 
that are germane- to him, though remov'd 
fifty times, shall all come under the hang- 
man: which though it be great pity, yet it is 



1 Hand-/(uty custody. 



* Cfermane, akin. 



360 



necessary. Ah old sheep- whistling rogue, a 
ram-tender, to offer to have his daughter come 
into grace! Some say he shall be ston'd; but 
that death is Ux) soft for him, say I: draw 
our throne into a sheep-cote! all deaths are 
too few, the sharpest too easy. 

Clo. Has the old man e'er a son, sir, do you 
hear, an't like you, sir? 8ii 

Ant. He has a son, who shall be flay'd alive: 
then, 'nointed over with honey, set on the head 
of a was|)s' nest; then stand till he be three 
quarters and a dram dead; then recover'tl 
again with aqua-vitae or some other hot infu- 
sion; then, raw as he is, and in the hottest 
day prognostication proclaims, shall he be set 
against a brick-wall, the sun looking with a 
southward eye upon him, where he is to behold 
him with flies blown to death. But what talk 
we of these traitorly rascals, whose miseries 
are to l>e sniil'd at, their offences being so 
capital? Tell me, for you seem to be honest 
plain men, what you have to the king: behig 
something gently consider'd, I '11 bring you 
where he is aboard, tender your i)ersons t<» 
his presence, whisper him in yoiu- behalf a; and 
if it be in man besides the king to efl'ect your 
suits, here is man shall do it. 829 

Clo. [Aside to Shepherd] He seems to be of 
great authority: close with him, give him gold: 
and though authority be a stubborn bear, yet 
he is oft led by the nose with gold : show the 
inside of your j)ur8e to the outside of his hand, 
and no more atio. Kemember, " ston'd," and 
" flay'd alive." 

Shep. An't please you, sir, to undertake 
the business for us, here is that gold I have: 
I '11 make it as much more and leave this young 
man in pawn till I bring it you. 

Avt. After I have done what I promised? 

Shep. Ay, sir. 84i 

Aut. Well, give me the moiety. Are you a 
party in this business? 

Clo. In some sort, sir: but though my aise 
be a pitiful one, I hope I shall not be flay'd 
out of it 

Aut. O, that's the case of the shephenis 
son: hang him, he'll be ma<le an example. 

£Clo. [To Shepherd] Comfort, good comfort I 
We must to the king and show our stnmge 
sights : he must know 't is none of your daughter 



ACT IV. Scene 4. 



THE WINTER^S TALE. 



ACT V. Scene 1. 



nor my sister; we are gone else. Sir, I will 
give you as much as this old man does when 
the business is performed; and remain, as he 
saysj your pawn till it be brought you. 854 

Aiit, I will trust you.] Walk before towards 
the sea-side; go on the right hand: I will but 
look upon the hedge and follow you. 

Clo. We are blest in this man, as I may say, 
even blest. 

»Shep, Let's before, as he bids us: he was 
provided to do us good. sex 

[^Exeiint Shepherd a)id Clown, 

Aut. If I had a mind to be honest, I see 



Fortune would not suffer me : she d rops booties 
in my mouth. I am courted now with a double 
occasion, gold and a means to do the prince 
my master good ; which who knows how tliat 
may turn back to my advancement? I will 
bring these two moles, these blind ones, aboard 
him [: if he think it fit to shore them again and 
that the complaint they have to the king con- 
cerns him nothing, let him call me rogue for 
being so far officious; for I am ])roof against ' 
that title, juid what shame else belongs to \ •'. 
To him will I present them: there may be^ 
matter in it]. \Ex'U. I 



ACT V. 



Scene I. A room in Leonte^ palace. 

Enter Leontes, Cleomenes, Dion, Paulina, 

and Servants. 

Cleo. Sir, you have done enough, and have 
perform'd 
A saint-like sorrow: no fault could you make. 
Which you have not redeem'd; indeed, paid 

down 
More ))enitence than done trespass: at the last, 
Do as the heavens have done, forget your evil; 
With them, forgive yourself. 

Leon. Whilst I remember 

Her and her virtues, I cannot forget 
My blemishes in them ; and so still think of 
The wrong I did myself: which was so much, 
That heirless it hath made my kingdom and 
Destroyed the sweet'st companion that e'er 
man ii 

Bred his hopes out of. 

Paid. True, too true, my lord : 

If, one by one, you wedded all the world, 
Or from the all that are took something good. 
To make a perfect woman, she you kilPd 
Would be unparallel'd. 

Leon. I tliink so. Kill'dl 

She I kill'dl I did so: but thou strikest me 
Sorely, to say 1 did; it is as bitter 
UjKin thy tongue as in my thought: now, good 

now. 
Say so but seldom. 

Cleon. Not at all, good lady: 20 



You might have spoken a thousand tilings 

tluit would 
Have done the time more benefit and grac'd 
Your kindness better. 

Paul. You are one of those 

Would have him wed again. 

Dion. If you would not so. 

You i)ity not the state, nor the remembrance 
Of his most sovereign name; consider little 
What dangers, by his highness' fail of issue, 
May drop upon his kingdom and devour 
Incertain lookers on. Q What were more holy \ 
Than to rejoice the former queen is well? 30^ 
What holier than, for royalty's repair, J 

For present comfort, and for future good, ji 
To bless the bed of majesty again i 

With a sweet fellow to 't t 



I 



Paul. There is none worthy, > 

Respecting her that 's gone. Besides, the gods > 
Will have fulfilled their secret jmrposes; ;' 

For has not the divine Apollo said, i 

Is 't not the tenour of his oracle, / 

That King Leontes shall not have an heir y 
Till his lost child be found? which that it' 
shall, 40 

Is all as monstrous to our human reason 

I 

As my Antigonus to break his grave 
And come again to me; who, on my life. 
Did perish with the infant T is your counsel 
My lord should to the heavens be contrary, 
Oppose against their willa [To Leontes] Care J 
not for issue; ^ 

361 



ACT Y. Soeut) 1. 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT V. Scene 1. 



,^ The crown will find an heir: great Alexander 
; Left his to the worthiest; so his siiccessor 
;i Was like to be the best ] 

Leon, Grood Paulina, 

Who hast the memory of Hermione, 50 

I know, in honour, O that ever I 
Had squared me to thy counsel! — then, even 

now, 
I might have look'd upon my queen's full eyes, 
H!ave taken treasure from her lips, — 

Paul. And left them 

More rich for what they yielded. 

Leon, Thou speak'st truth. 

<>No more such wives: therefore, no wife: Tone 

< worse, 

^ And better us'd, would make her sainted spirit 

^ Again possess her corpse, and on this stage, 

( Where we 're ofFendei-s now, apj)ear soul- vex'd, 

<And begin, "Why to me?" 

^ Paul. Had she such power, 

^She had just cause. 

^ Leon. She had; and would incense me 

^ To murder her I married. 

^ Paul. I should so. 62 

< Were I the ghost that walk'd, I 'd bid you mark 
^Her eye, and tell me for what dull part in 't 

) You chose her; then I 'd shriek, tluit even your 

', ears 

^Should rift^ to hear me; and the words that 

foUow'd 
i Should be, "Remember mine." 

Leon. Stars, stars, 

^ And all eyes else dead coab! Fear thou no 

wife:] 
I '11 have no wife, Fkulina. 

Paul, Will you swear 

Never to marry but by my free leave? 70 

Z<;o;i. Never, Paulina; so be blest my spirit! 
Paul. Then, good my lords, bear witness to 

his oath. 
Cleo. You tempt him over-much. 
Paul. Unless another, 

As like Hermione as is her picture. 
Affront^ his eye. 
Cleo, Good madam, — 

Pa'ul. I have done. 

Yet, if my lord will marry, — if you will, sir. 
No reme<ly, but you will, — give me the office 



1 Itijt, split 



s Affront, i.e. confront 
362 



To choose you a queen : she shall not be so 

young 
As was your former; but she shall be such 
As, walk'd your first queen's ghost, it should 

take joy so 

To see her in youip arms. 

Leon. My true Pkulina, 

We shall not marry till thou bidd'st us. 

Paul. That 

Shall be when your first queen's again in 

breath; 
Never till then. 

Enter a Gentleman. 

Gent. One that gives out himself Prince 
Florizel, 
Son of Polixenes, with his princess, she 
The fairest I have yet beheld, desires access 
To your high presence. 

Leon, What with him ? he comes not 

Like to his father's greatness: his approach, 
So out of circumstance^ and sudden, tells us 
'T is not a visitation f ram'd, but f orc'd 91 

By need and accident What train I 

Gent. But few, 

And those but mean. 

Leon. His princess, say you, witli him? 

Gent. Ay, the most peerless piece of earth, 
I think. 
That e'er the sun shone bright on. 

f Pa ul. O Hermione, • 

As every present time doth boast itself 
Above a better gone, so must thy grave 
Give way to what 's seen now! Sir, you your- 
self 
Have said and writ so, but your writing now 
Is colder than that theme, "She had not been. 
Nor was not to be equall'd;" — thus your verse 
Flow'd with her beauty once: 'tis shrewdly 
ebb'd, 102 

To say you have seen a better. 

Gent. Pardon, madam: 

The one I have almost forgot, — your pardon; 
The other, when she has obtain'd your eye. 
Will have your tongue too. This is a creature, 
Would she begin a sect, might quench the zeal 
Of all j)rofes8ors else; make proselytes 
Of who she but bid follow. 

s Out o/ eircunn/tancef without ceremony. 



ACT V. 8oene 1. 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT V. Scene 1. 



Paul, How!' uot womeu? 

Gent. Women will love her, that she is a 
womau 110 

More worth than any man; men, that she is 
The rarest of all women. ] 

Leon. Go, Cleomenes; 

Yourself, assisted with your honoured friends, 
Bring them to our embracement. 

[^Exeuni Claomenes and others. 
Still, 't is strange 
He tliUH sliould steal u])on u& 

Paul. Had our prince, 

Jewel of children, seen this hour, he had pair'd 
Well with this lord: there was not full a month 
Between their births. 

Lean. Prithee, no more; cease; thouknow'st 
He dies to me again when talk'd of: sure, 120 
When I shall see this gentleman, thy speeches 
Will bring me to consider that which may 
Unfurnish^ me of reason. They are come. 

lie-enter Cleomenes a)id others, with Florizel 

and Perdita. 

Your mother was most true to wedlock, prince; 
For she did print your royal father oflf, 
Conceiving you: were I but twenty-one, 
Your father's image is so hit in you, 127 

His very air, that I should call you brother. 
As I did him, and speak of something wildly 
By us perf orm'd before. Most dearly welcome I 
And your fair princess, — goddess! — O, alas! 
1 lost a couple, that 'twixt heaven and earth 
Might have thus stood begetting wonder, as 
You, gracious couple, do: and then I lost — 
All mine own folly — the society, 
Amity too, of your brave father, whom, 
Tliough bearing misery, I desire my life 
Once more to look on him. 

Flo. By his command 

ELive I here touch'd Sicilia, and from him 
Give you all greetings that a king, at friend, 
Can send his brother: and, but iniirmity 
Which waits upon worn times hath something 

seiz'd 142 

His wislrd ability, he had himself 
The lands and waters 'twixt your throne and 

his 
Measured to look upon you; whom he loves — 

1 Ui\furni*h, deprive. 



He bade me say so — more than all the sceptres 
And those that bear them living. 

Leon. O my brother. 

Good gentleman! the wrongs I have done thee 

stir 
Afresh within me; and these thy offices, 
So rarely kind, are as interpreters 150 

Of my behindhand slackness ! Welcome hither. 
As is the spring to the earth. And hath he too 
Expos'd this paragon to the fearful usage. 
At least ungentle, of the dreadful Neptune, 
To greet a man not worth her pains, much less 
The adventure^ of her person. 

JFlo. Good my lord, 

She came from Libya. 

Leon. Where the warlike Smalus, 

Tliat noble honoured lord, is f ear'd and lov'd 1 

Flo. Most royal sir, from thence; from him 

whose daughter 
His tears proclaimed his, parting with her: 

thence, leo 

A prosperous south-wind friendly, we have 

cross'd. 
To execute the charge my father gave me, 
For visiting your highness: my best train 
I have from your Sicilian shores dismiss'd; 
Who for Bohemia bend, to signify 
Not only my success in Libya, sir. 
But my arrival, and my wife's, in safety 
Here where we are. 

Leon. The blessed gods 

Purge all infection from our air whilst you 
Do climate here! You have a holy' father, 
A graceful^ gentleman; against whose person, 
So sacred as it is, I have done sin: 172 

For which the heavens, taking angry note, 
Have left me issueless; and your father's blest, 
As he from heaven merits it, with you. 
Worthy his goodness. What might I have 

been. 
Might I a son and daughter now have look'd on, 
Such goodly things as you ! 

Enter a Lord. 

Lord. Most noble sir. 

That which I shall report will bear no credit. 
Were not the proof so nigh. Please you, 
great sir, 18O 

< AdvtiUure, hazard. * Holy. Wrtuous, blameleis. 

* Qraetjvl, gracioua. 

363 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



Bohemia gre«tH you from himself by me; 
Desirea yoii to attach' his son, who has — 
His dignity and duty both cast off — 
(led from his father, from hia hopes, and with 
A shepherd's daughter. 

Lfon, Where's Bohemia? speak 

Lord. Here in your city; I now came from 



I speak amazedly; and it becomes 
My marvel and my message. To your court 
Whiles he was hastening, in the chase, it seems, 
Of this fair couple, meets he on the way ifo 
The father of this seeming lady and 
Her brother, haviug both theircouutry quitted 
With this young prince. 
Flo. Camiilo has betiay'd me; 



Wf 


) 


w 


U' -I-' 




^^h^^^^l^g^ 





Whose honour and whose honesty till now 
Endur'd all weathers. 

Lord. Lay 't so to liis charge: 

He 's with the king your father. 

Lemi. Who? Camiilo? 

Lord. Camiilo, air; I spake with him; who 

Has these poor men in question.' Never miw I 
Wretchea so quake; they kneel, they kiss the 

Forswear themselves as often as they speak: 



Bohemia stops his ears, and threatens them 
With Jivera deaths in death. 

J'er. O my jxior father! 

The heaven sets spies upou us, will not have 
Our contract celebrated. 

Leon. You are married t 

Flo. We are not, sir, nor are we like to \ie; 
The stars, I see, will kiss the valleys first: 
The odds for high and low 'e alike. 

Lmn. My lord, 

Is this the daughter of a king! 

Flo. She ie, 

Wlien once she ia my wife. 



ACT V. 8ceue 1. 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT V. Scene 2. 



Leon. That "once," I see by your good 
father's speed, 210 

Will come ou very slowly. I am sorry, 
Most sorry, you have broken from his liking. 
Where you were tied in duty; and as sorry 
Your choice is not so rich in worth* as beauty, 
That you might well enjoy her. 

Flo, Dear, look up: 

Though Fortune, visible an enemy, 
Should chase us, with my father, power no jot 
Hath she to change our loves. Beseech you, 

sir, 
Kemember since you ow'd no more to time 
Than I do now: with thought of such affec- 
tions, 220 
Step forth mine advocate; at your request 
My father will grant precious things as trifles. 
Leon, Would he do so, I'd beg your precious 
mistress. 
Which he counts but a trifle. 

Paul. Sir, my liege. 

Your eye hath too much youth in't: not a 

month 
'Fore your queen died, she was more worth 

such gazes 
Than what you look on now. 

Leon. I thought of her. 

Even in these looks I made. [To Florizef] 

But your petition 
Is yet unanswer'd. I will to your father: 
Your honour not o'erthrown by your desires, 
I am friend to them and you: upon which 
errand 231 

I now go toward him; therefore follow me. 
And mark what way I make: come, good my 
lord. [Exeunt. 

Scene II. Before Leontes^ palace. 

Enter Autolycus and a Gentleman. 

Aut. Beseech you, sir, were you present at 
this relation? 

First Gent. I was by at the opening of the 
fardel, heard the old shepherd deliver the 
manner how he found it: whereupon, after a 
little amazedness, we were all commanded out 
of the chamber; only this methought I heard 
the shepherd say, he found the child. 

1 Witrth, i.e. worthineu of descent, high birUu 



Aut. 1 would most gladly know the issue 
of it. 9 

First Gent. I make a broken delivery of the 
business; but the changes I perceived in the 
king and Camillo were very notes of admira- 
tion: they seem'd almost, with staring on one 
another, to tear the cases of their eyes. There 
was speech in their dumbness, language in 
their very gesture; they look'd as they had 
heard of a world ransom'd, or one destroved: 
a notable passion of wonder appeai'ed in them; 
but the wisest beholder, that knew no more 
but seeing, could not say if the importance* 
were joy or sorrow; but in the extremity of 
the one, it must needs be. 21 

E)iter another Gentleman. 

Here comes a gentleman that liappily^ knows 
more. The news, Rogero? 

ISec. Gent. Nothing but bonfires: the oracle 
is fulflll'd; the king's daughter is found: such 
a deal of wonder is broken out within this 
hour, that ballad-makers cannot be able to 
express it. 

Enter a third Gentleman. 

Here comes the Lady Paulina's steward: he 
can deliver you more. [^How goes it now, sir?; 
this news which is call'd true is so like an old / 
tale, that the verity of it is in strong suspicion:^ 
has the king found his heir? 32 

Third Gent. Most true, if ever truth were 
pregnant by circumstance: that which you 
hear you '11 sweai* you see, there is such unity 
in the proofs. Tlie mantle of Queen Hermi- 
one's, her jewel about the neck of it, the letters 
of Autigonus found with it which they know 
to be his character, the majesty of the creature 
in resemblance of the mother, the affection* of 
nobleness which nature shows above her breed- 
ing, and many other evidences proclaim her 
with all certainty to be the king's daughter. 
Did you see the meeting of the two kings? 
Sec. Gent. No. 45 

Third Gent. Then have you lost a sight, 
which was to be seen, cannot be spoken of. 
There might you have beheld one joy crown 

3 Importance, import, 
s Happily, i.e. haply. 
* Affection, dlBposition. 

365 



ACT V. Scene 2. 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT V. Scene 2. 



<; 



another, so and in such manner, that it seem'd 
sorrow wept to take leave of them, for their 
joy waded in t^rs. Q There was casting up of 
eyes, holding up of hands, with countenance 
of such distraction, that they were to be known 
by garment, not by favour.^ ] Our king, being 
ready to leap out of himself for joy of his 
found daughter, as if that joy were now be- 
come a loss, cries, " O, thy mother, thy mother ! " 
then asks Bohemia forgiveness; then embraces 
his son-in-law; Qthen again worries he his 
daughter with clipping her; now he] tlianks 
the old shepherd, which stands by like a wea- 
ther-bitten conduit of many kings' reigns. £1 
never heard of such another encounter, which 
lames report to follow it and undoes descrip- 
tion to do it. ] 63 

«S'ec. OenL Wliat, pray you, became of Anti- 
gonus, tliat carried hence the child ? 

Third Oent. Like an old tale still, which 
will have matter to rehearse, though credit be 
asleep and not an ear open. He was torn to 
pieces with a bear: this avouches the shep- 
herd's son; who has not only his innocence, 
which seems much, to justify him, but a hand- 
kerchief and rings of his that Paulina knows. 

First (JetU. What became of his bark and 
his followers? 74 

Third Gent. Wrackt the same instant of 
their master's death and in the view of the 
shepherd: so that all the instruments which 
aided to expose the child were even then lost 
when it was found. But O, the noble combat 
that 'twixt joy and sorrow was fought in 
Paulina! She had one eye declin'd for the 
loss of her husband, another elevated that 
the oracle was fulfill'd: she lifted the princess 
from the earth; and so locks her in embrac- 
ing, as if she would pin her to her heart that 
she might no more be in danger of losing. 

First Oent. The dignity of this act was 
worth the audience of kings and princes, for 
by such was it acted. 88 

Third Oent. One of the prettiest touches of 
all, [^and that which angl'd for mine eyes, 
caught the water though not the fish,] wjis 
when, at the relation of the queen's death, 
with the manner how she came to 't bravely 



» Favour, i.e. face. 
366 



oonfess'd and lamented by the king, how 
attentiveness wounded his daughter; till, from 
one sign of dolour to another, she did, with an 
"Alas," I would fain say, blee<i tears, for I 
am sure my heart wept blood. QWho was most 
marble there changed colour; some swooned, 
all sorrowed : if all the world could have seen 't, 
the woe had been universal] loo 

First Gent. Are they returned to the court ? 

Third Oent. No: the princess hearing of hei- 
mother's statue, which is in the keeping of 
Paulina, — a piece many years in doing, and 
now newly perform'd by that i-are Italian 
master, Julio Homano, Qwho, had he himself 
eternity and could put breath into his work, 
would beguile Nature of her custom, so per- 
fectly he is her ape: he so near to Htrmione 
hath done Hermione, that they say one would 
speak to her and stand in hope of answer: — ] 
thither with all greediness of afi*ection are they 
gone; and there they intend to sup. 112 

Sec. OetU. I thought she had some great 
matter there in hand ; for she hath privately 
twice or thrice a day, ever since the death of 
Hermione, visited that removed house. Shall 
we thither, and with our company piece the 
rejoicing? 

First Oent. Who would be thence that \\i\& 
the benefit of access? every wink of an eye, 
some new grace will be bom: our absence 
makes us unthrifty to our knowledge. Let 's 
along. [Exeunt Gentlemen. 

Aut. QNow, had I not the dash of my former 
life in me, would preferment drop on my head. 
I brought the old man and his son aboard 
the prince; told him I heard them talk of a 
fardel and I know not what: but he at that 
time, over-fond of the shepherd's daughter, 
so he then took her to be, who began to be 
much sea-sick, and himself little better, ex- 
tremity of weather continuing, this mystery 
remained undiscover'd. But 'tis all one to 
me; for had I been the finder-out of tliis 
secret, it would not have relish'd among my 
other discredits. ] 133 

Enter Shepherd and Clown. 

Here come those I have done good to against 
my will, and already appearing in the blos- 
soms of their fortune. 



ACT V. Scene 2. 



THE WINTEK'S TALE. 



ACT V. Soeue 8. 



Shep. Come, boy; I am past moe children, 
but thy sons and daughters will be all gentle- 
men bom. 138 

Clo. You are well met, sir. You deni'd to 
fight with me this other day, because I was 
no gentleman bom. See you these clothes? 
say you see them not and think me still no 
gentleman born: you were best say these robes 
are not gentlemen born: give me the lie, do, 
and try whether I am not now a gentleman 
born. 

Aut, I know you are now, sir, a gentleman 
bom. 

Clo. Ay, and have been so any time these 
four hours. 

Shep. And so have I, boy. 149 

Clo, So yott have: but I was a gentleman 
bom before my father; for the king's son took 
me by the hand, and call'd me brother; and 
then the two kings call'd my father brother; 
and then the prince my brother and the prin- 
cess my sister call'd my father father; and so 
we wept, and there was the first gentleman-like 
tears that ever we shed. 

Shejh We may live, son, to shed many more. 

Clo. Ay; or else 't were hard luck, being in 
80 preposterous estate as we are. 159 

Aut. I humbly beseech you, sii*, to pardon 
me all the faults I have committed to your 
worship, and to give me your good report to 
the prince my master. 

Skep, Prithee, son, do; for we must be gentle, 
now we ai-e gentlemen. 

Clo. Thou wilt amend thy life ? 

A ut. Ay, an it like your good worship. 

do. Give me thy hand: I will swear to the 
prince thou art as honest a true fellow as any 
is in Bohemia. 170 

Shep. You may say it, but not swear it. 

Clo. Not swear it, now I am a gentleman? 
Let boors and franklins^ say it, I '11 swear it. 

JShep. How if it be false, son ? 

Clo. If it be ne'er so false, a true gentleman 
may swear it in the behalf of his friend: and 
I '11 swear to the prince thou art a tall fellow 
of thy hands and that thou wilt not be drunk; 
but I know thou art no tall fellow of thy 
bands and that thou wilt be drunk: but I'll 

1 Fratikliiu, yeomen. 



swear it, and I would thou wouldst be a tall 
fellow of thy hands. i8i 

AiU. I will prove so, sir, to my power. 

Clo. Ay, by any means prove a tall fellow: 
if I do not wonder how thou dar'st venture 
to be drunk, not being a tall fellow, trust me 
not. Hark! the kings and the princes, our 
kindred, are going to see the queen's picture. 
Come, follow us: we '11 be thy good masters. 

[Exeunt. 

Scene III. A Chapel in Paulina^ s house. 

To lIe7*mione, liJce a statue^ curtained^ enter 
Leontes, Polixenes, Florizel, Perdita, 
Camillo, Paulina, Lor<h^ and A ttendanU. 

Leon. O grave and good Paulina, the great 
comfort 
That I have had of thee ! 

Paul. What, sovereign sir, 

I did not well, I meant well. All my services 
You have paid home: but that you have 

vouchsaf'd 
With your crown'd brother and these your 

contnicted 
Heirs of your kingdoms, my poor house to visit. 
It is a surplus of your grace, which never 
My life may hist to answer. 

Leon. O Paulina, 

We honour you with trouble: but we came 
To see the statue of our queen : your gallery 
Have we pass'd through, not without much 
content ii 

In many singularities; but we saw not 
That which my daughter came to look upon. 
The statue of her mother. 

Paul. As she liv'd peerless. 

So her dead likeness, I do well believe. 
Excels whatever yet you look'd upon 
Or hand of man hath done; therefore I keep it 
Lonely, apart. But here it is: prepare 
To see the life as lively mock'd as ever 
Still sleep mock'd death: behold, and say 'tis 
well. 20 

[Paulina draws back a curtain, and dis- 
covers Hermione standing like a statue. 
I like your silence, it the more shows off 
Your wonder: but yet speak; first, you, my liege: 
Comes it not something near I 
Leon. Her natural posture! 

367 



ACT V. Scene 3. 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT V. Soene 3. 



Chide me, dear stone, that I may say indeed 
Thou art Hermione; or rather, thou art she 
In thy not chiding, for she was as tender 
As infancy and grace. But yet, Paulina, 
Hermione wait not so much wrinkled, nothing 
So aged as this seems. 

Pol. O, not by much. 

Paul. So much the more our carver's excel- 
lence; 80 
Which lets go by some sixteen years and 

makes her 
As she liv'd now. 

Leon. As now she might have done 

So much to my goo<l comfort, as it is 
Now piercing to my soul. O, thus she stood. 
Even with such life of majesty, warm life. 
As now it coldly stands, when first I woo'd her! 
I am ashamed: does not the stone rebuke me 
For being more stone than it ? O royal piece. 
There 's magic in thy majesty, which has 
My evils conjur'd to remembrance, and 40 
From thy admiring daughter took the spirits. 
Standing like stone with thee ! 

Per. And give me leave. 

And do not say 't is superstition, that 
I kneel and then implore her blessing. Lady, 
Dear queen, that ended when I but began. 
Give me that hand of yours to kiss. 

Paul. (), patience! 

The statue is but newly fix'd, the colour 's 
Not dry. 

Cam. My lord, your sorrow waa too sore laid 



on. 



49 



Which sixteen winters cannot blow away. 
So many summers dry: scarce any joy 
Did ever so long live; no sorrow 
But kill'd itself much sooner. 

Pol. Dear my brother, 

Let him that was the cause of this have power 
To take oflf so much grief from you as he 
Will piece up in himself. 

Paul. Indeed, my lord. 

If I had thought the sight of my poor image 
Would thus have wrought you, for the stone 

is mine, 
I 'd not have show'd it. 

Leon. Do not draw the curtain. 

Paul. No longer shall you gaze on't, lest 
your fancy 60 

May think anon it moves. 

368 



Leon. Let be, let be. 

Would I were dead, but that, methinks, al- 
ready — 
What was he that did make it? See, my lord. 
Would you not deem it breath'd? and that 

those veins 
Did verily bear blood? 

Pol. Masterly done: 

The very life seems warm upon her lip. 

Leon. The fixure of her eye has motion in \ 
As we are mock'd with art. 

Paul. I '11 draw the curtain : 

My lord 's almost so far thinsported, that 
He '11 think anon it lives. 

Leon. O sweet Paulina, 

Make me to think so twenty years together I 
No settled senses of the world can match 
The pleajsui-e of that madness. Let 't alone. 

Paul. I am sorry, sir, I have thus far stirr'd 
you: but I could atflict you furtlier. 

Leon. Do, Paulina; 

For this affliction has a taste as sweet 
As any cordial comfort. Still, methinks. 
There is an air comes from her: what fine chisel 
Could ever yet cut breath ? Let no man mock 
me, 79 

For I will kiss her. 

Paul. Good my lord, forbear: 

The ruddiness upon her lip is wet; 
You '11 mar it if you kiss it, stain your own 
With oily painting. Shall I draw the curtain? 

Leon. No, not these twenty years. 

Per. So long could I 

Stand by, a looker on. 

Paul. Either forbear, 

Quit presently the chapel, or resolve you 
For more amazement If you can behold it, 
I '11 make the statue move indeed, descend 
And take you by the hand: but then you'll 

think — 
Which I protest against — I am assisted flo 
By wicked powers. 

Leon. What you can make her do, 

I am content to look on: what to speak, 
I am content to hear; for 'tis as easy 
To make her s])eak as move. 

Paul. It is requir'd 

You do awake vour faith. Then all stand still; 
On: those that think it is unlawful business 
I am about, let them depart 




1 



THE V;iNTSRS TALE 



I » -^ / 



■* / 



V 



iHy 



V . 



ACT V. SoglM a. 

Leoit. Proceed: 

No foot sLall stir. 

Paid. Music, awake her; atrikel [Mutic 
T istiniu; descend ^beatoiie no more; approach; 
Strike all tliiit look upon with marvel. Come; 
I'll till your grave up: stir; nay, come away; 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



BequeathtodeathyournumbneBS,for/romhitn 
Dear life redeems you. — YouperceiveahestitB: 
\_Henaione tlepi/rom her pedatal. 
Start not; her actions eliall be holy as 
You hear my spell is lanful: do not shun her. 
Until you see her die again; for then 




You kill her double. Nay, present yoiu' hand: 
WheusheWHsyouiigyou woo'dher;uowinage 
la she become the suitor? 

Lfon. 0, she's wanni 

If this be magic, let it be an art lio 

Iiawful as eating. 

Pol. She embraces him. 

Cam. She hangs about hia neck: 
If slie [lertaiii to lite, let lier 8[)eak too. 

Pol. Ay, and make 't manifest where she 
has liv^d. 
Or how stol'n from the dead. 

Paid. That she is living, 

Were it but told you, should be booted at 



Like uu old tale: but it appears alie lives, 
Though yet she speak not Mark a little while. 
Please you to interpose, fair madam: kneel 
And pray your mother's blessing. Turn, good 
lady; ISO 

Our Penlita is found. 

Her. Yon gods, look down, 

And from your sacred vials jiour your graces 
Upon my daughter's head ! Tell me, mine 

Where haat thou l)eeu preserv'd? where liv'd! 

how found 
Thy father's court? for thou slialt hear that I, 
Knowing by Paulina that the oracle 



ACT V. Scene 3. 



THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT V. Scene S. 



Gave hope thou wast in beiDg, have preserved 
Myself to see the issue. 

Paul, There 's time enough for that; 

Lest they desire upon this push^ to trouble 
Your joys with like relation. Gro together, 
You precious winners all; your exultation 
Partake 2 to every one. I, an old turtle, 132 
Will wingme tosome wither'd bough, and there 
My mate, that 's never to be found again. 
Lament till I am lost 

Leon. O, peace, Paulina! 

Thou shouldst a husband take by my consent, 
As I by thine a wife: this is a match, 
And made between 's by vows. Thou hast 

found mine; 
But how, is to be question'd; for I saw her. 



1 Pugh^ impulse, suggestion. 

2 Partake, impart 

370 



As I thought, dead ; and have in vain said many 
A prayer upon her grave. I '11 not seek far, — 
For liim, I partly know his mind, — to find thee 
An honourable husband. Come, Camillo, 
And take her by the hand, whose worth and 

honesty 
Is richly noted and here justified 
By \is, a pair of kings. Let 's from this place. 
What I look upon my brother: both your par- 
dons, 147 
That e'er I put between your holy looks 
My ill suspicion. This is your son-in-law. 
And son unto the king, who, heavens directin«i:. 
Is troth-plight to your daughter. Good Paulina, 
Lead us from hence; where we may leisurely 
Each one demand and answer to his ]>tirt 
Perform'd in this wide gap of time, since first 
We were dissevered: hastily lead away. 

[Exeunt, 




NOTES TO THE WINTER'S T.VLE. 



ACT r. ScE»E 1. 
'KhtinniiiallgaUorntiied.-F.\ptloUllatll Thecg 



' etidt uf ofipoted iciivlx). that 



Sb«k«ip«ara ninr h>Tt> hul la uiliul "■ilcvli'acmiiinnn In 
Ibe lltlt-pnge at cilil IhhiIu. ot twii luiiula citsndcd Imm 
uppoaltti I'liiudi. ami Juiusil ai lii bikcii ut frkiidihl|i iivpr 

1. Line 43: vnr Ikal, iiutifd, tiuaim Uinnhjftl.—Vnm' 
P>N (>mbeUiH>, til. ^ M: 

Knriianll./*...flo.e^ 
and iracbeth. li. 3 K: 

Mrdieint. u a wrii. I> iiwd In Jiwt tlw una unM Lii 
CxmbeLliie, Iv. 1 iU: "IJntnl Krlvr*. ' •mi, mtdiri-u Uiu 
leu;" anil In (Itlirlln. III. ^ XIK, 



ACT I. Scene 2. 



NOTES TO THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT I. Scene 2. 



ACT I. ScKXK -2. 

4. Lines 12, 13: 

THAT inay blow 

Ho BMSAPINO wind* at home. 

That is apparently used for that, as in the passage cited 

by Farmer from The Two Noble Kinsmen, ili. 1. 12: 

In thy rumination 
That I, poor man, might eftsoons come between. 
And chop on some cold thou|;ht I 

Siuaping {i.e. checking or nipping) is used in Lotc's 
Labour's Lost, i. 1. 100: "an envious tueapiiig frost;" 
and in Lucrece, 333 : 

And Krive the sneafed birds more cause to sin^; 

6. Line 41: ^««e.— This word (from O. Yx. giste) means 
a stage or stopping-place in a journey ; commonly used 
of the royal progresses. Steevens quotes Webster, The 
Wliite Devil, 1612 : 

Do, like the ji'esis in the progress. 
You know where you shall find me. 

6. Line 42: good deed, meaning indeed (the good being 
simply an expletive), may be compared with such a plirase 
as " in good sooth " (Tempest, il. 2. 150). 

7. Line 43: a jar o' the clock; i.e. a ticic of the clock. 
Holt White cites from Heywood, TYoia Britannica, 1609, 
c. 4, St. 107: 

He hears no wakiug-clocke nor watch to Jarre. 
Compare Richard II. v. 5. 51, 52: 

My thoughts are minutes; and with siglis they/<tr 
Their watches on unto mine ears. 

a Line 44: What lady SHE her ford.— Schmidt renders 
this curious expression, "i.f. a woman that is a lady." 
Collier and Dyce read should instead of she, taking the 
«^ of the Vf. to be a misprint for the abbreviation ghd. 
But compare " my »he," iv. 4. 360, below. Compare, too, 
Blassinger, The Bondman, i. 3: 

1 '11 kiss him for the honour of my country. 

With any sAf in Corinth 

and Middleton, Women beware Women, ii. 1 : 

Sir, I ciiuliJ give as shrewd a lift to chastity 
As any sMf that wears a tongue in Florence. 

9. Line 62: lording*.— Lordiiuj, the diminutive of lord, 
is found in The Passionate Pilgrim, xvi. : " It was a lord- 
inff» daughter." Lordingn is frequently used in Chaucer, 
often at the lieginniug of a speech, in the sense of "Sirs," 
See Canterbury Talcs, Prologue (ed. Morris, Clarendon 
Press, 1879), 1. 761: 

And sayde thus: " Lo. lordynges, trewely 
Ye ben to me right welcome hertely; " 

and again, 1. 788 below: " ' Lordynges,' quoth he." 

10. Lines 09-71: 

rte knew not 

The doctrine of iU-doing, nor dream'd 

That any did. 
The later Ff. read The doctrine of ill-doing, no, nor 
dream'd, and some editors have accepted this attempt to 
amend the metre. Doctrine ouvht, of course, to l>e pro- 
nounced as a trisyllable, and the stress to be laid (as it 
should be) on ill ratlier than on doing— ti point of metre 
which may be illustrated from Mr. Swinburne's Songs of 
the Springtides, p. U: 

372 



And he that much less loves it than he hates 
All wrong-dotng that is done 
Anywhere, always underneath the sun 
Shall lire a mightier life than time's or fate's. 

11. Lines 95, 96: 

ere 

Wiih gpur tee HEAT an acre. 

Heat seems to be used here in the same sense as " a heat " 
in running. Mr. Hudson in his edition of the play says: 
"Mr. Joseph Crosby, in a letter to me, justly obserres 
that 'the accompanying words, 'to th' goal,' show that 
the metaphor is from the race-course. ' And he adds that 
' heat is not simply the distance run, but the sporting- 
term for the race itself; ' winning the heat.' 'running the 
heat,' <&c." Collier's Corrector verj' unnecessarily alters 
heat into clear. 

12. Line 104: AND CLAP thyself my lope.—T. 1 has A 
claj), a misprint corrected in the later Ff. To dap hands 
over a bargain is still no uncommon expression (though 
strike is now the more usual word); compare Henry V. 
v. 2. 133: "and so clap hands and a bargain." Mak>ne 
says that to dap hands was a common part of the cere- 
mony of troth-plighting, and he gives an instance of the 
phrase from Middleton, No Wit, No Help like a Woman's, 
1657, iv. 1. 155: 

There these young lovers shall c/<i/ hands together. 

13. Line 113: bounty, fertile bosoin.—l fail to see how 
this expression is improved, as many editors think, by 
Hanmer's emendation, bounty's fertile bosoin. There is 
a slight difference in the form of the words, and that is 
all: the original reading being the more poetical. Steevens 
well compares llmun of Athens, iv. 3. 177-179 : 

Common mother, thou. 
Whose womb unmeasurable, and infinite breast. 
Teems, and feeds all. 

14. Line 115: paddling palms.— See the passage in 
Othello, ii. 1. 259-205, where paddlimj "with the palm of 
his hand " is explained by lago, in all iu significance, as 
a patent sign of Desdemona's fondness for Caasio. 

16. Lines 117, 118: 

and then to sigh, as '(were 

The mort o' tub deer. 

This has almost always been explained as a flourish upon 
the horn, blown at the death of the deer, which makes, 
certainly, a curious simile. In a letter to the Academy, of 
October 29. 1887, Prof. Skeat puts forward an explanation 
which harmonizes very much better with the context, and 
is probably the true one. "The fact is," he says. " that 
mort Just seems ' deatli ; ' neither more nor less, * la mort 
sans phrase.' The sigh is that of the exhausted and 
dying deer; and the simile Is natural and easy. The com- 
mentators wanted to air their learning, and Steevens 
quotes from Greene: 'He that bloweth the mort before 
the death of the buck, may very well mlsa of his fees;" 
see this quotation, and another like it, duly entered hi 
Nares. Again, Steevens refers to the oldest copy of ' Chev> 
Chase'— 'The [they] blewe a mort uppone the bent;' and 
so, indeed, the line appears in Percy's Reliques. I regret 
to say I have fallen into the trap myself. I have 8i> 
printed the line in my Specitnens of English, part iii. 
p. 68, I. 16. But I honestly collated the text with the 



ACT I. Scene 2. 



NOTES TO THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACTT I. Scene L>. 



MS., and duly made a note that the M.S. reading ia mot 
Ami mot happens tu he qiiito right. The careful Cotgrave 
duly explain^ the Frenoli mot as * the note winded by a 
huntsman on hi:* home/ and it is the true and usual word. 
We have Chaucer's nuiliority for it in the Book of the 
Ducfi^tfue, 1. 370. In the * Treatise on Venery,' by Twety, 
printed in ReliquUe Antiqxux, i. 153, we read: * And when 
the hert is take, ye shal blowe foure motyg.' It is clear 
tliat the phrase ' to blow a mot ' was turned into ' to blow 
a mart' by that powerful corrupter of language, popular 
etymology." Collier, in his edition of Shakespeare pri- 
vately printed in 1876, explains tlie term correctly: " the 
* mort ' o' tlie deer is the death of the deer, when it heaves 
iU last sigh. " 

16. Line 123: JFe miut be neat; not neat, but cleaiUy, 
captain.— ^'Leoniei," says Johnson, "seeing his son's 
nose smutch'd, cries, ' We must be neat : ' then recollect- 
ing that neat is the ancient term for homed cattle, he 
says, * not neat, but cleanly.'" 

17. Line 125: Still viKaiNALLlNO.— Steevens compares 
Dekker's Satiromastix, 1602: " When we have husbands, 
we play upon them like virgitval jacks, they must rise or 
fall to our humours, else they 11 never get any good strains 
of music out of one of us." Compare in this connection 
Sonnet cxxviii., where the idea in the text is developed. 
The virginal was a sort of rectangular or oblong spinet, 
of the same shape as the clavichord, and with the same 
arrangement of key)K>ard. An ancient inscription on a 
wall of the Manor House of Leckington, Yorkshire, said 
to be as old as the time of Uenry VII., reads: 

A &Uc strynge in a Vii^nali soundithe not arif^ht, 

It doth abide no wrestini^c, it is so loose and litfht ; 

The sound'borde crased«. forsith the in&truniente. 

Throw tnisgoramance. to nteke notes which was not his intent. 

Compare Blount, Olossographia, 1656: " Virginal (virgin- 
alis), maidenly, virginlike, hence the name of that musi- 
cal instrument called Virginals. I>ecau8e maids and virgins 
do must commonly play on them." Another explanation 
of the name is that keyed stringed instruments were used 
to accompany the hymn " Angelus ad Virginem," as similar 
instruments without keys, the psaltery for instance, had 
been before them. From Henry VI I. 's time to nearly 
the close of the 17th century, Virginal in England in- 
cluded all quilled keyl)oard instruments, the harpsichord 
and trapeze-shaped spinet, as well as the rectangular 
spinet I take these particulars from Mr. Barclay S<|uire'8 
article. Virginal, in Grove's Dictionary of Music and 
Musicians, vol. iv. 

la Lines 131, 132: 

falite 
A» o'er-dyed blacks. 

Blacks was a term used for mourning garments. Com- 
pare Massinger and Middlcton, The Old Law, \L 1: 

I would not hear of biacks, I was so U|;ht. 
But chose a colour orient like my mind : 
For blacks are often such disscmblint; mourners. 
There is no credit t(iven to 't ; it has lost 
All reputation by false sons and widows. 
Now I would have men know what I resemble, 
A truth, indued ; 't is joy clad like a joy ; 
Which ii more honest than a cunninf; tfrief. 
That 's only faced with sables for a show. 
Bat gaody-heartcd. 



19. Line 137: wj/ <y>//o/; .'—Compare I. Henry VI. v. 4. 18: 

God knows thou art a coUo/ uf my rtc&h; 

and see the note on that passage (vol. i. p. 343. note 254X 

20. Line 148: LEON. \Vhat cheer I haw %*'t with you. 
best brother f—E.a.nmeT gives this line to Polixeues, and 
the change has been adopted by most editors— even the 
Cambridge. It seems to me unnecessary. Leontes wants 
to say something, because he sees Polixenes and Hermi- 
one are observing his altered looks, and so, in answer to 
the former's ilow, my lord! he replies with a counter- 
question, in whicli one may even see a touch of his un- 
easy suspicion, to which he cannot help giving vent in 
indirect ways. It will be notice<l that Leontes, a little 
below, calls Tolixenes brother, as hi this line; and again, a 
little I>elow that, he speaks to Hermione of '* our brother'is 
welcome." 

21. Line 149 : you look as if you held a brow of muclt 
distraction.— Thii Hue is printed by most editors as two, 
you look being joined, metrically, with the preceding 
line ; an arrangement wliicli does not result in harmony. 
It is evident tliat the printers of the Folio set the line 
in its present form advisedly, for in the original copy the 
catch- word Leo. is moved back so as to get room for tlie 
whole line. 

22. Lines 161, 162 : 

Will you take eggs /or money? 
Mam. Xo, my lord, I'll fight. 

To take eggs for money was a proverbial phrase, meaning 
to put up with an affront, or to act in a cowardly manner. 
Boswell quotes Robert Dallington, A Method for Travell, 
1593: " L'infanterie Francoise escaramouche bravement 
de loin et la Cavallerie a une furiouse brutde a raffront. 
puis apres q'elle s'acconiode." Reed gives a translation of 
this sentence, occuring in Relations of the most famous 
Kingdomes and Commonwealths thorowout the World. 
1630: " The French infantry skirmislieth bravely afarre 
off, and carallery gives a furious onset at the first charge; 
l)Ut after the first heat they will take eggs /or their money " 
(p. 164). 

23. Line 163: happy man be's dole!— A proverbial ex- 
pression. See Taming of the Shrew, note 38. 

24. Line 177: Apparent to my heart; i.e. next to my 
heart Compare the French apparent^, related, or of 
kin: from which our phrase, the heir apparent, is derived. 

25. Line 183: How she holds up the NEB. the bill to him! 
—Xeb, used generally of a bird's bill, is Anglo-Saxon fr>r 
face, mouth, beak. Skeat. in his Etjrmological Dictionary, 
quotes the Ancren Riwle (Camden Society ed.): "Osteiide 
mihi faciem, sheau thi neb to me "(p. 73X Ogilvie, Im- 
perial Dictionary, quotes Scott: " the neb o' them 's never 
out of mischief." Boyer, French Dictionary, has "The 
Nib of a bini. Bee d'oiseau." Steevens quotes from the 
story of Anne of Hungary in Painter's Palace of Pleasure, 
l!t06: "the amorous wormes of love did bitterly gnawe 
and teare his heart wyth the nebs of their forked heads." 

26. Line 209: / am like you. thet sat.— This is Uie 
reading of F. 2. F. 1 has say. 

27. Line 217: rounding. —" To round in the ear" is a 
familiar phrase ; compare King John, ii. L 660, 567: 

373 



ACT I. Soene 2. 



NOTES TO THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT I. Scene 2. 



rvuHtUd in the ear 
With that same purpose-chan|;:er ; 

and Browning, Luria, act ii. : 

Oh, their reward and triumph and the rest 
Tiiey round mc in the ears with, all day long. 

— Works, 1879, vol. V. p. 63. 

The word to rmind is derived from the German ru»«n. 

28. Line 226: »omB ^everat*.— This is the only instance 
of the noun Moera£<, meaning single individuala; the word 
is twice used for that which concerns an Individual per- 
son or thing : Henry V. L 1. 86, 87 : 

The sevtrals and unhidden passaf^cs 

Of his true tide to some certain dukedoms ; 

and lYoilus and Cressida, i. 8. 179, 180 : 

All our abilities, %SXs, natures, shapes, 
Severals and generals of grace exact. 

29. Line 227: lower in«««M.— That is, persons of inferior 
rank, who had their place below the salt, at the lower 
end of the table. See, on the original meaning of vMtn^ 
note 128 to Love's Labour 's Lost (vol. i. p. 62). Collier 
mentions that each four diners at an inn of court is still 
said to constitute a ineM, and has a separate supply of 
food. 

30. Line 244: Which HOXES honesty behind.— To hox, or 
"hough," or "hock," was to hamstring. Xares <iuotes 
Knolles' History of Turks: "recovering his feet, with his 
faulchion hooced the hinder legs of the mare whereon tlie 
sultan rid" (p. 83); and Lyly's Mother Bombie, iii. 4: "I 
thrust my hand into my pocket for a knife, thinking to 
Anehim." 

31. Lines 256, 267 : 

if INDUSTRIOUSLY 

1 play'd the fool. 
This is the only use of the word induttrioualy in Shake- 
speare, and it is here used in somewhat different sense 
from the usual one, as "deliberately" or "on purpose," 
the Latin de induetria. 

32. Lines 271, 272: 

for cogitation 

Besides not in that man ttiat does not think. 
Hanmer reads think't, and Theobald think it Certainly 
one must either understand the line in this way, or else 
(and perhaps that would be better) as Malone takes it, 
connecting think with the next line. My wife is slippery, 
the ol>ject of the verb thought above. 

33. Line 276: My wife's a hobbt-HORSE.— Ff. print 
Holy Horse. The correction is Pope's. 

34. Lines 290, 291 : 

and all eyes 

Blind with the PIN AND WEB. 

The pin and web (sometimes pin only) is the name of a 
disease of the eye, something of the nature of cataract, 
rhe Encyclopwdic Dictionary defines it **an obstruction 
of vision depending upon a speck in the cornea." Florlo, 
World of Words, ed. 1611, has "Cataratta. a dimness of 
sight, occasioned by humours hardened in the eye, called 
a cataract, or a pin and a toeb." Compare Lear, iii. 4. 120- 
123: "This Is the foul fiend Flibbertigibbet: he begins at 
curfew, and walks at first cock; he gives the web atid 
the pin, squints the eye, and makes the hare-lip." 

374 



36. Line 304 : wife's.— Ft. misprint tciues. The correc- 
tion was made by Kowe. 

36. Line 307 : Why, he that wears fier like her nudal; 
i.e. her portrait in a locket Malone well comparei 
Henry VIILil 2.31-33: 

a loss of her 
That, like a jewel, has hung twenty years 
About his neck, yet never lost her lustre ; 

and he quotes another close parallel from Gervais Mirk- 
ham, Honour in Perfection, 1624, p. 18 : " He hath Aun^ 
about the neck of his noble kinsman. Sir Horace Yere, 
like a rich jewel." 

37. Line 316 : BESPICE a cup. — Steevens cites from 
Chapman's translation of the Odyssey, book x., a similar 
use of the word spice in the sense of poison: 

With a festival 
She '11 first receive thee, but will x/thr thy bread 
With flowery poisons. 

38. Line 817 : To give mine enemy A LASTING WIKK.— 
Compare Tempest, ii. 1. 286-287: 

whiles you. doing thus. 
To the/rr/f/Ma/ «rtic> for aye mij^t put 
This ancient morsel. 

39. Line 326: To APPOINT myself in this vexation.^ 
Compare Much Ado, iv. 1. 146. 147: 

For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder, 
I know not what to say; 

and Twelfth Night, iv. 3. 3: 

And though 't is wonder that enwraps me thus. 

40. Line 378: Be INTELLIOENT to inc. —Shakespeare oied 
intelligent in this sense (giving intelligence) ouly'hereand 
in three passages of Lear, iii. 1. 25; iii. 5. 12; and iii.?. 12: 
"Our posts shall be swift and intelligent betwixt us." 

41. Lines 392-394: 

which no less adorns 

Our GENTRY than our parents' noble luimeSt 
In whose SUCCESS toe are GENTLE. 

That is, "which no less adorns our rank as gentlemen 
than the noble names of our parents, in succession (0 
whom we are of gentle birth." Compare gentry in Ia* 
crece, lines 668, 569 : 

She c6njures him by high almighty Jove, 

By knighthood, /irn/r>'« And sweet friendship's oath; 

and for gentle, in this sense, see Henry V. iv. line 45 of 
Chorus, "mean and gentle all." Success, meaning suc- 
cession, is used in one other place, IL Henry IV. Iv. ii. 

47-49: 

And so success of mischief shall be bom. 

And heir from heir shall hold this quarrel up 

Whiles England shall have generation. 

42. Lines 415. 416: 

an instrument 

To VICE you to 't. 
Compare Twelfth Night, t. 1. 125, 126: 

And that I partly know /A/ iMstrument 

Tfuit screws me from my true place in your favour. 

43. Lines 418, 419: 

my name 

Be yoked with his that did betray the Best! 
The allusion is of course to Judas Iscariot Best is spelt 
in the Ff. with a capital letter, to point its ligniflcanoe. 



ACT I. Scene 2. 



NOTES TO THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT II. Scene 1. 



Douce mentions that there wu a clause in the sentence 
against excommunicated persons: "let them have part 
\vith Judas that betrayed Christ Amen." 

44. Lines 426, 427: 

you may (u well 

Forbid the sea /or to obey the moon. 
Douce compares The Merchant of Venice, iv. 1. 71, 72: 

You may as well go stand upon the beach, 
And bid the main flood bate his usual hei|;ht 

45. Lines 445. 446: 

Than one condemn'd by the king's oum mouth, thereon 

II ig execution stoom. 
This is Capell's rearrangement of the Lines printed in the 
Ff. in an obviously unmetrical form: the second Une 
beginning with thereon, 

46. Lines 458-460: 

Good expedition be my friend, and comfort 
The gracious queen, part of his theme, but nothing 
Of his iU-ta'en suspicion. 
I fail to see any particular obscurity in this passage, 
though Dyce echoes Warburton and Johnson in declaring 
it " hopelessly corrupted." If any paraphrase is neces- 
sary, Malone's is quite sufficient to the purpose: "Good 
expedition befriend me by removing me from a place of 
danger, and comfort the innocent queen by removing the 
object of her husband's Jealousy; the (lueen, who is the 
subject of his conversation, but without reason the object 
of his suspicion." 

ACT XL Scene 1. 

47. Line 11: Who taught you tAu/— This is Kowe's 
emendation, or rather expansion of F. Is contraction 
Who taught' this f 

4& Lines 39-45: 

There may be in the cup 

A spider steep'd, &rC. 
l*here was formerly a notion that spiders were venomous. 
Malone quotes from a pamphlet of 1632 entitled Hol- 
land's Leaguer: " like the spider, which tumeth all things 
to poison which it tasteth." Henderson mentions that 
one of the witnesses against the Countess of Somerset in 
the famous Overbury case said, " The Countess wished 
me to get the strongest poison I could. . . . Accordingly 
I bought seven great spiders and cantharides." Compare 
the story of Shah Abbas, thus told in Browning's Ferish- 

tah's Fancies, pp. 14, 15 : 

He too lived and died 

— How say they? Why, so strong of arm, of foot 

So swift, he stayed a lion in liis leap 

On a stag's haunch,— with one hand grasped the stag, 

With one struck down the lion : yet, no less. 

Himself, that same day, feasting after sport. 

Perceived a spider drop into his wine, 

Let fall the flagon, died of simple fear. 

48. Line 51 : a pinch d th ing. —Perhaps this means treated 
as a mere puppet, pinched and moved as others please. 
.Several contemporary instances of the use of the word 
pinched are given in the Variorum Shakspeare, voL xiv. 
p. 278. but they may be said to need rather than to give 
explanation. 



60. Lines 73, 74: 

ccUumny will SEAR 

Virtue itself. 

Compare All's Well, ii 1. 175, 176: 

my maiden's name 
Star'd otherwise. 

61. Line 79: The most replenish'd villain in the world. 
—Compare Richard III. iv. 3. 18, 19: 

The most reflenishtd sweet work of nature. 
That from the prime creatioo e'er she fram'd. 

62. Line 90 : A FEDERART with A^.— This is probably 
only another form of the word now usually spelt /eodary, 
which is printed fedarie in the F. 1 text of Measure for 
Measure, ii 4. 122 ; Faedarie in Cymbeline, iiL 2. 21. See 
note 105 on Measure fur Measure. 

63. Lines 104, 105: 

He who shall speak for her is AFAR OFF guilty 

But that he speaks. 
This of course means, in Johnson's words, " guilty in a 
remote degree." Malone compares Henry V. i. 2. 239, 240: 

Or shall we sparingly show you far qff 
The I>auphin's meaning? 

61 Lines 134, 135 : 

I 'II keep MY STABLES where 
I lodge niy v>ife. 
Collier's sensitive Corrector altered my stable* into me 
stable; and Collier observes that Antigonus "means 
merely that he will take care to keep himself constantly 
near his wife,—' I '11 keep me stable where I lodge my 
wife,'— in order that she may not offend in the way un- 
justly charged against Hermione." The change seems 
quite uncalled for, though it certainly renders the pas- 
sage much more elegant. Grant White very well says: 
"The meaning of the passage seems so plainly 'I will 
degrade my wife's chamber into a stable or dog kennel,' 
that had there not been much, quite from the purpose, 
written about it, it would require no special notice, 
llie idea of horses and dogs being once suggested by the 
word 'stable.' the speaker goes on to utter another 
thought connected with it: ' 111 go in couples,' ^." 

66. Line 136 : THAN when I feel and see her no further 
truet her.—Yt. print Then, but the two words were spelt 
interchangeably. Pope made the correction in his 
second edition. 

66. Line 141: some puU^-on.—'tht meaning of pvMer' 
on is here evidently instigator; in Henry VIII. i. 2. 29-26^ 
the same word is used of one who sets measures on foot» 
or causes them: 

they vent reproaches 
Most bitterly on you, tA'^utUr.cn 
Of these exactions. 

67. Line 143 : / would lamd-damn him This strange 

word, land-damn, has given rise to endless conjecturea, 
the most recent and plausible of which— indeed the/rst 
that can be called plausible— is one contained in Notes 
and Queries, iii. 464 (June 12, 1875X in a letter signed 
" Thomcliffe, " and dated from Buxton. The writer states 
that forty years ago an old custom was still in use in these 
parts of punishing detected slanderers or adulterers "by 
the rustics traversing from house to house along the 

375 



ACT II. Soeue 1. 



NOTES TO THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT II. Scene S. 



country side, blowing trumpets and beating drums or 
pans and kettles: ^ when an audience was assembled the 
deliuquents' names were proclaimed;" and they were said 
to be land-damned, or, as it was pronounced, laixdanned. 
It is suggested in a later number of Notes and Queries 
(July 3, 1875), that laivdan, like the Gloucestershire word 
randan (used in a similar sense), is an imitative word, 
intended to represent the confused and continued noise 
of the process. 
Sa Lines 149, 150: 

And I had rather GLIB myself than they 

Should not produce fair isstu. 
Olib, we are told by Steevens, is still used in some parts 
in the sense of castrate, and he quotes Shirley, St. Patrick 
for Ireland, 1640: "If I come back, let me be glib'd." 
The word seems to be akin to the more general word lti>, 
itself a provincialism in the North. Boyer renders it by 
"chAtrer." 

69. Line 153: As you feel doing thus.— Thus is generally 
supposed to be grasping Antigonus' arm; perhaps so, per- 
haps otherwise; the matter is uncertain, and of little 
consetiuence. 

GO. Line 157: the whole dungy earth.— TMa elegant epi- 
thet occurs again in Antony and Cleopatra, 1. 1. 35, 36: 

our dungy earth alike 
Feeds beast as man. 

61. Lines 169, 170: 

The loss, the gain, the ordering on 7, is all 
Properly ours. 

This metrical arrangement is Theobald's. The Ff. begin 
line 170 at "Is." 

62. Line 172: Without more ovkrturk.— Shakespeare 
generally uses overture in the sense of proposal, much as 
we use it nowadays; here, and in Lear, iii. 7. 89, he seems 
to give the word rather the signification of disclosure. 

63. Lines 181. 182: 

'tioere 
Most piteous to he WILD. 
That is, no doubt, to be rash; as in i v. 4. 577. 578, below: 

a VfUJ dedication of yourselves 
To unpath'd waters, &c. 

61 Line 185: Of stuff dsuficieney.—Comi^Kte Much Ado, 
1. 1. 56: **stuff'd with all honourable virtues;" and Romeo 
and Juliet, ill. 5. 183: " Stuff d . . . with honourable 
parts. " Consequently the meaning appears to be. of full 
or complete sufficiency (that is, ability); not, as Johnson 
says, "of abilities more than enough." 

ACrr II. SCKNE 2. 

66. Line 30: These dangerous unsafe LUNES t' the king. 
— Cotgrave has " Lune, folic. Les femroes out des lune* 
dans la tete. Richelet" Steevens compares Cyril Tour- 
neur, The Revenger's Tragedy, ill 1, 1608: 

I know 't was but some poevish tpiooh in htm. 

The French still say, of a man of capricious temper, "fl 
a ses lunes" or "il est bien (on mal) luni" The ex- 
pression given by Theobald-" il y a de la lune"—\% now 



1 Compare Cotgrave, "Charivaris des poelles. The cartini; of an in- 
famous person, (graced with tlie harmony of tinf^in^ii: kettles and fry- 
ing-pan Musicke." 

376 



obsolete. There is an old French proverb that "les 
femmes ont trois qnartiers de la lune dans la t6te," and 
in Pantagruel there is some talk of a voyage to the 
moon to verify the fact. The word is found in modem 
editions of Shakespeare in Merry Wives, iv. 2. 22, and 
Troilus and Cressida, ii. 8. 130, where the Ff. have lines; 
some editors introduce it also in Hamlet, iii 3. 7, in 
place of the Ff. lunacies. 

66. Line 49: Who hut to-day HAMMERED <^f this design. 
—See Two Gent, of Verona, i. 8. 18. and the note on the 
passage (vol i. p. 167, note 28). 

ACrr II. Scene 3. 

67. Line 4: the HARLOT king.— The word harlot was for- 
merly used of men as well as of women. Compare Comedy 
of Errors, v. 1. 204, 205: 

This day. i^reat duke, she shut the doors upon me. 
While she with harlots feasted in my house. 

The word originally meant a youth ; it then came to be 
used of persons of low birth, and then persons of low 
conduct. The French use of the word fiUe (originally 
and literally meaning daughter) may be quoted as a simi- 
lar example of a word's degradation, having come to 
mean now, when used by itself— tiiitf/i/Zt;— precisely what 
the English word in question means to-day. Compare 
Chaucer, Prologue, lines 047. 648 : 

He was a gentil harlot and a kynde ; 

A betre felawe shulde men nof^ht fynde. 

It is said of the Sompnour, who does not seem to have 
been a person of good conduct. 

68. Lines 5, 6: 

out of the BLANK 

And LEVEL of my brain. 

Both these terms of gunnery or archery are often used by 

Shakespeare; as, for example, Othello, iii. 4. 128: "stood 

within the hlank of his displeasure;" All 's Well, iL 1. 158, 

159: 

I am not an impostor, that proclaim 

Myself against the leifl of mine aim : 

and, level being used adverbially, in a passage which com- 
bines and illustrates both words, Hamlet, iv. 1. 42, 43: 

As Irvel as the cannon to his blank. 
Transports hit poison'd shot. 

68. Lines 1&-21: 

The very thought of my m>enges that way 
Recoil upon me: in himself too mighty. 
And in his parties, his alliance. 
Malone quotes from Shakespeare's original. Greene's Dor- 
astus and Fawnia: " For Pandosto although he felt that 
revenge was a spurre to warre, and that envy alwaies prof- 
feretli Steele, yet he saw, that Egisthus was not onely of 
great puissance and prowesse to withstand him, but had ' 
also many Kings of his alliance to ayde him, if neede 
should serve: for he married the Emperours daughter of 
Russia" (Uazlitt's Shakespeare's Library, part I. voL iv 
pp. 32. 33). It will be seen that Shakespeare has caught 
at the hint afforded by the words " Emperours daughter 
of Russia " to give Hermione an added dignity and a shar- 
per contrast at her triaL In Greene it is Polixenes* wife, 
not Leoutes', who is thus referred to. 

70. Line 39: What noise there, ho f— So the later Ft; 
F. 1 has Who. 



ACT II. Scene 3. 



NOTES TO THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT III. Soene 2. 



71. Line 50: in COMFORTING your eviU.—Th&t is, in 
abetting or encouraging your evil pracUcea. Compare 
Lear, iii. 5. 21 :" If I find him comforting the king," where 
the context showg that something more than merely con- 
soling is meant. In Wiclif's version, "be strong in the 
Lord" (Ephesians vi. 10) is rendered "be comforitd in 
the Lord." 

72. Line C7: A mankind witch /—Compare Coriolanos, 

iv. 2. 1(5, where Sicinius says to Volumnia, sneeringly, 

" Are you mankind} " Singer quotes Abraham Fleming, 

Junius' Nomenclator, 1585, where "virago" is defined: 

" A manly woman, or a mankind woman." The word was 

frequently used in this sense; as in Massinger, The City 

Madam, iii. 1: 

you brae he ! 

Are you tum'd maniitu/t 

and in Fletcher, The Woman-hater, iii. 1: "Are women 
grown so mankind, must they be wooing?" 

73. Line G8: intelligeneing. —This word is used by Shake- 
speare only here, where it evidently means one who acts 
the part of a go-between; somewhat similar uses of in- 
teUitjencer will be seen in II. Henry IV. iv. 2. 20. and 
Richard III. iv. 4. 71. 

74. Line 74: thou art W<)MAM-TIR'I>.— To tire was used 
in falconry for "to tear with the beak;" so that the ex- 
pression is closely allied in meaning with the modem heiv- 
yecktd. Compare Venus and Adonis, 55, 56: 

Hven a<> an empty eaijle, sharp by fast. 

Tires with her beak on feathers, llesh, and bone. 

75. Line 75: danu: Partlet. —Vor the story of dame 
Partletsce Chaucer's Nonne PrestesTale, where "damoy- 
sele Pertelote" or "dame Pertelote" is the favourite of 
the "sevene hennes" composing the harem of "a cok. 
hi>;hte ehauntecleer. " 

76. Line 76: crone. — This word originally meant a tooth- 
less old ewe; it came to have its present sense at least in 
Chaucer's time : e.g. Man uf Lawes Tale, line 432 (MS. 

Uarl. 7334): 

This olde sowdones this cursed crone. 

Shakespeare only uses the word in this passage, but it is 
frequently to be met with in the dramatic literature of 
his time. 

77. Line 00: A co^f.— Compare II. Henry VI. i. 3. 86: 

Contemptuous base*bom caiiat as she is ; 

IIL Henry VI. li. 2. 145: 

To make this shameless caliet know herself; 
and Othello, iv. 2. 120, 121: 

He call'd her whore: a l>e);]^ar in his drink 
CuulJ not ha\'e laid such terms upon his callat. 

Compare, too, Bums, The Jolly Beg;;ar8: "Here's our 
ragged brats and calleUt!" The et>Tnology of the word 
is uncertain. The New English Dictionary quotes, 
among other references, Holland's Livy, 1600, i. Iviii. 41: 
"Any unhonest woman or wanton callot [impudica]"; and 
Stanyhurst, Description of Ireland in Holinshed. vi. 52: 
" Let us . . . leave lieing for varlets . . . scolding 
toTcallet«." 

7a Line 106: .Vo yellow in 7.— Compare Nym's figura- 
tive Uuiguage in Merry Wives, i. 3. Ill: "I will possess 
him with yeUowtuM :" Le. jealousy. 



79. Line 100: lozel, or losel, is define<l by Verstegan 
(Restitution of Decayed Intelligence, 1605. p. 335, cited 
by Reed) as " one that hath lost, n^lected, or cast off his 
owne good and welfare, and so is become lewde and care- 
lesse of credit and honesty." See Glossary of Yorkshire 
Words and Phrases, 1S56. Compare Spenser, View of 
the State of Ireland ((luoted in Latham's Johnson). 
"Such loteU and scatterlings cannot easily, by any sheriff, 
be gotten, when they are challenged for any such fact" 
The word is still occasionally met with, as in Browning, 
Sordello, bk. iii. line 789 : 

Keepinf;, each iosel, through a maze of lies. 
His own conceit of truth." 

80. Line 148: heteeeh .yoti.— Tliis is Rowe's expansion of 
the reading of F. 1, beseech', llie later Ff., as usual, dis- 
regard altogether the mark of contraction. 

81. Line 162: So sure a« THIS freard'^^ray.— Some edi- 
tors have emended this into thy; vrithout need, I think, 
for though Leontes certainly means the l>eard of Antlgo- 
nus and not his own, he may, as Malone suggested, I^y 
hold of Antigonus' beard (just above he has said "Come 
you hither," so that it would probably be within reach); 
or if he merely pointed to it, at close (luarters, he might 
have said this. But Leontes had shown himself capable 
of acts quite as unkiugly as pulling an old man's beard. 

82. Line 168: Swear by this sword.— In the knightly days 
oaths were frequently taken on the cross-shaped hilt of a 
sword. The practice is often alluded to by Shakespeare. 
Compare Hamlet, i. 5. 154, 160, where Hamlet makes his 
friends swear upon his sword. 

83. Line 192: Poor thing, coiulemn'd to LOSS !— Compare 

iii. a 49-51, below: 

I>oor wretch, 

That, for thy mother's fault art thus ezpos'd 

To i0ss and what may follow ! 

Halliwell cites Baret, Alvearie, 1580: " Losse, hurt, pro- 
perly things cast out of a shippe in time of a tempest" 

ACT IIL SOKNK 1. 

84.— The stage-direction to' this scene is given in the 
Cambridge Shakespeare "A seaport in Sicilia" (after 
Theobald's " A part of Sicily near the seaside "). But, as 
the Old-Spelling editors point out, "line 21 [ 'fresh horsesi'] 
implies that the riders had brought in tired horses, and 
had not just landed." 

86. Line 2: the isle. — Shakespeare follows Greene in 
speaking of Delphi as an island: "they [t.^. the messen- 
gers selected by Pandosto] willing to fulfill the Kinges 
command, and desirous to see the situation and custom 
of the Iland, dispatched their affaires with as much 
speede as might be, and embarked themselves to this 
voyage." Warburton suggests, with some probability, 
that the original cause of the mistake was a mental con- 
fusion between "Delphos " and "Deloa" 

ACrr III. Scene 2. 

86.— There are in this scene several specially close paral- 
lels between the language of Greene's narrative and thut 
of Shakespeare's play. Compare, for instance, with this 

377 



xVCT III. Scene 2. 

paauge from the tale: " and as for her, it was her parte 
to deny such a monstrous crime, and to be impadent in 
forswearing the fact, since shee had past all shame in 
committing the fault,"— lines 6&-68: 

I ne'er heard yet 
That any of these bolder vices wanted 
Less impudence to {gainsay what they did 
Than to perform it first. 

There Is again considerable similarity between Hermione's 
protestations of the innocence of her love for Polizenes 
and Bellaria's declaratious of her blameless affection for 
£gistus. For example: "What hath past betwixt him 
and me, the Gods only know, and I hope will presently 
reveale: that I loved Egistus I can not denie: that I hon- 
ored liim I shame not to confess: to the one I was forced 
by his vertues, to tlie other for his dignities. But as 
touching lascivious lust, I say Egistus is honest, and hope 
my selfe to be found without spot: for Franion, I can 
neither accuse him nor excuse him. for I was not privie 
to his departure, and that this is true which I have heere 
rehearsed, I referre niyselfe to the devine Oracle " (Haz- 
litt, p. 42). Compare specially lines 02-78. And in lines 
112-116: 

if I shall be condemn'd 
Upon surmises, all proofs sleeping else 
But what your Jealousies awake, I tell you, 
'T is rigour, and not law — 

we have an absolute quotation: "therefore if she were 
condemned without any further proofe, it was rigour, and 
not Law" (p. 38). Polixenes' remorseful and penitent 
words after his folly has been at last brought home to 
him (154 et geq.) are closely modelled upon Greene. The 
text of the oracle (133-137) is copied with but a few vari- 
ations from Greene: "Suspition is no proofe: Jealousy is 
an unequall judge: Bellaria is chast; Egistus blamelesse: 
Franion a true subject; Pandosto treacherous: his babe 
an innocent, and the Idng shall live without an heire: if 
that which Is lost be not f ounde " (p. 40, where it is printed 
in sm. caps.). 

87. Line 10: Silence!— F. 1 prints Silence in italics, as 
if it were a stage-direction. Capell assigned it to a crier, 
and he is followed by Dyce. It seems the simplest plan 
to do as Rowe has done, and allow the officer to command 
Hilence. 

83. Line 34: Who.— Ft. print Whom. The correction 
was made by Rowe. 

88. Lines 60, 51: 

With what BNOOUNTBR SO UNCURRENT 1 

Have STRAIN'D, to appear thus. 

Encounter may here be used in the general sense of be- 
haviour (e.g. Taming of Shrew, iv. 5. 54), or in the more 
tierogatory sense in which it occurs in Much Ado, iv. 1. 
M ("the vile encounters they have had"). Uncurrent 
means, evidently enough, "unwarrantable." Strain'd 
seems to have the signification of "swerved," as the 
IMurticiple is used in Romeo and Juliet, ii. 3. 10: 

Nor aut;lit so (;ood. but, strain'd Uom that fair use. 
Revolt!*, &c. 

Thus Dyce's paraphrase gives the simplest and most 
natural explanation of tlie passage: "With what unwar- 
rantable familiarity of intercourse I have so far exceeded 

378 



NOTES TO THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT III. SoeiM 2. 



bounds, or gone astray, that I should be forced to appear 
thus in a public court as a criminal." 

80. Line 82: My life stands in the LEVEL qf your dreams. 
—See note 08 above, on level; Hermione means here that 
her life is within the range of his idle suspicions. 

81. Line 86: Those qf your FACT are so; i.e. those who 
have done as you have done. Compare the use of the 
same word in precisely the same sense, in note 86 above, 
in the quotation from Greene. Fact seems to be always 
used in Shakespeare in this unfavourable sense, meaning 
not merely a deed (the lAtin factum), but an evil deed. 

82. Line 03: The BUG tchich you woidd fright me with I 
seek.— Bug was used in Shakespeare's time for what we 
now (to avoid misunderstandings) call mure lengthily 
" bugbear." Compare Taming of the Slirew, i. 2. 211: 

Tush, tush! fear boys with ^«^x; 

and Hamlet, v. 2. 22: 

With, ho ! such /n/jrs and goblins in my life. 

In Scot's Discoverieof Witchcraft, p. 117, "Thessal bugs" 
is given by Abr. Fleming as the translation of Horace'a 
"portentaque Thessala;" and in the same book, p. 153, 
the word is used as the generic name of a congeries of 
portents, the list of which is interesting enough to quote 
here: "They [our mothers' maids] have so fraied us with 
bull beggers, spirits, witches, urchens, elves, hags, fairies, 
satyrs, pans, faimes, sylens, kit with the cansticke, tri- 
tons, centaurs, dwarfes, giants, imps, calcars. conjurors, 
nymphes, changelings, Incttbus, Robin good-fellowe, the 
spoome, the mare, the man in the oke, the hell waine, 
the flerdrake, the puckle, Tom thoml>e, hob gobblin, 
Tom tumbler, boneles, and such other bugs, that we are 
afraid of our owne shadowes." 

83. Line 04: Toine can life be no commodity— .Schmidt 
enters commodity as used in this line under the head of 
" convenience ; " surely it belongs rather with liis second 
division, "profit, advantage," as in King John, \L 1. 573, 
574: 

That smooth-fac'd gentleman, tickling amtmodity^ 
Commodity, the bias of the world. 

Grant White quotes The Haven of Health, 1584 : " And 
therefore seeing all my trauaile tendeth to common cwn- 
moditie, I trust euerie man will interpret all for the 
best"(sig. t*|I4b.X 

84. Line 100: Starred most utUuckily.— There are several 
astrological allusions in this play, i. 2. 201, 363 (" Happy 
star reign now ! ") ; and one might perhaps add the refer- 
ence to the "influences" of the stars in lines 424-426 of 
the same scene. 

85. Line 146: Of the queen's SPEED.— Compare Taming 
of the Shrew, ii. 1. 130 : " happy be thy speed!'* In Cym- 
bellue, ill. 5. 167, 168, there is a quibl)Ie upon this and the 
more customary meaning of the word : 

This fool's 4/t€d 
Be cross'd with slowness ! 

86. Lines 160, 170: 

Which you knew great, and to the hazard 

Of all incertainties, &c. 
The editor of F. 2 inserted the word certain before hamrd. 
a very plausible emendation. I can quite fancy that it 
may have been what Shakespeare wrote, but in the absence 



ACT III. Scene 2. 



NOTES TO THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT III. Scene 3. 



of anything more than a doubtful probability (for the 
authority of F. 2 is to my mind of the smallest) I hesitate 
to admit the word into the text. 

97. Line 187: That did but $hotc thee, qf a fool, incon- 
«^a/it.— Several absurd emendations of this line have been 
proposed, where none was needed. The obvious meaning 
is, OS Coleridge well put it, "show thee, being a fool 
naturally, to have improved thy folly by inconstancy." 
Compare Phaer's Aeneid : 

When this the yont; men heard me speak, ^wild they waxed wood. 

98. Line 188: And damnable i/i^/ro/cr/uZ.— Adjectival 
forms of adverbs are frequently met with in Shakespeare. 
Compare, for this very word, All's Well, iv. iii. 31, 32: 
" Is it not meaut damnable in us, to be trumpeters of our 
unlawful intents?" 

99. Line 180: Thou wouldst have poison'dgood CamUlo'a 
honour.— "Row sliould Paulina know this?" as Maloue 
acutely remarks. " Xo one had charged the king with 
this crime except himself, while Paulina was absent, at- 
tending on Hermioue. The poet seems to have foigotten 
this circumstance." A precisely similar oversight (for so 
it seems) occurs in iii. 3. 111. where the shepherd speaks 
of Antigonus as "the old man," though he has never seen 
him, and his son has not said that he was old. 

100. Line 199: his gracioxu DAU.—Dam is several times 
used by Shakespeare for mother, but always, save here, 
as a term of contempt. Paulina, as we know, was not a 
squeamish person; and it is quite characteristic of her to 
use a word of this sort affectionately. 

101. Line 206: Tincture or lustre in her 2»p.— Shake- 
speare only uses tincture in the sense of colour, as in Two 
Gent, of Verona, iv, 4. 160: " the lily-twicture of her face." 

102. Line 232: take your patietice to you.— Compare 

Henry VIIL v. 1. 105-107: 

you must tttJte 

Your patietice to you, and be wcU contented 

To make your house our Tower. 

103. Line 244: To these sorrows.— Th\% is the reading 
of the Ff. S. Walker proposes Unto, which is plausible. 
The Cambridge editors adopt this reading in the Qlobe 
Edition. Collier is wrathful with those who adopt this 
reading, "against every authority, and to the ruin of the 
beauty of the close of this grand and pathetic scene." 

ACT in. Scene 3. 

101 Lines 1, 2: 

Thou art PERFECT, then, our ship hath toueh'd upon 

The deserts qf Bohemiai 
Perfect is used two or three times by Shakespeare for 
"certain," "fully aware," as in Cymbeline. iii. 1. 73-75: 

I am fer/tct 
That the Pannonians and Dalmatians for 
Their liberties are now in arms ; 

and Cymb. iv. 2. 118: "I am iterfect what" The idea 
of a. maritime Bohemia, that stumbling-block to preci- 
sians, is taken from Oreene. "Egistus, King of Sycilia, 
who in his youth had bene brought up with Pandosto, 
desirous to show that neither tracte of time, nor dis- 
tance of place could diminish their former friendship, 



provided a navle of ships, and sayled into Bohemia to 
visit his old friend and companion ' (Hazlitt, p. 24^ It 
will be remembered that Shakespeare has transposed the 
two kingshiiM. 

106. Lines 21, 22: 

I never sate a vessd qf like sorrow 

SoflWd and so becoming. 
Certain commentators (such as the too ingenious Mr. W. 
N. Lettsom, from whose persistent passion of emendation 
no Shakespearian idiom was safe) have objected to the 
idea of a vessel, or even of a woman, being becoming. The 
suggested substitution of o'errunnifig would, as Singer 
Justly says, " spoil an image of rare beauty. Antigonus 
describes an expre.'tsiou which only the greatest masters 
have realized in art: grief the most poignant rather en- 
hancing the beauty of a countenance than deforming it** 

106. Lines 54. 55: 

t/iou 'rt like to have 

A lullaby too rough. 

Compare in Oreene: "shalt thou have the whistling 
windes for thy luUabie?" (p. 30). 

107. Lines 59. 60: / UH)uld there were no age between TEM 
and three-and-tiventy.—Q9t.pe\\ suggested that ten might 
be a mistake for thirteen; and the Cambridge editors very 
justly add that if written in Arabic numerals 16 would 
be more likely to be mistaken for 10 than 13, and would 
suit the context better. 

106. Line 63: the ancientry.— IM^ word occurs in only 
one other passage. Much Ado, il. 1. 80, where it means 
*' pertaining to age." 

109. Lines 66-69: They have scard away two qf my best 
sheep, which I fear the WOLF will sooner find than th4 
master: if any where 1 have them, 'tis by the sea-sids, 
BROWSING OF IVY.— This is taken from Oreene: "It for- 
tuned a poore mercenary Sheepheard, that dwelled in 
Sycilia, who got his living by other mens flocket, missed 
one of his sheepe, and thinking it had strayed Into the cov- 
ert, that was hard by, sought diligently to find that which 
he could not see, fouing either the Wolves or Eagles had 
undone him (for hee was so poore, as a sheepe was halfe 
his substaunce), wandered downe toward the sea cUffes, 
to see If perchaunce the sheepe was browsing on the sea 
Ivy, whereon they greatly doe feede. but not finding her 
there, as he was ready to retume to his fiocke, hee heard 
achildcrie "(p. 45). 

110. Line 71: A boy or a child.— It is evident that child 
Is used here for a girl: and Steevens says that he is told 
the word is still In use In the midland counties. Most of 
the editors have simply copied this statement; In La- 
tham's Johnson It Is said that child as girl is "common as 
a provindalism ; especially in Warwickshire, where It has 
probably been most carefully noticed." Halllwell, In his 
Archaic Dictionary, quotes from Hole's MS. Olossary of 
Devonshire Words, collected about 1780: "A child, a 
female infant." In Notes and Queries, 5th series, voL t. 
May 6, 1876, Mr. Charles Thlriold sends the very apt 
parallel from Beaumont and Fletcher, Phllaster, IL 4: 

A|;es to come shall know no male of him 
Left to inherit, and his name shall be 
Blotted from earth; if he have any cMU, 

379 



ACT III. Scene 3. 



NOTES TO THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT IV. Scene 3. 



It shall be crossly matched ; the gocU themselves 
Shall sow wild strife betwixt her lord and her. 

One correspondent states that in some parts of Lanca- 
shire the inquiry, apropos of a baby, "Is it a lad or a 
child f" is still common ; another assigns the same usage 
to Gloucestershire ; Mr. W. Rendle, in the same volume, 
and in vol. vL, states that his elder relatives in Cornwall 
were familiar with the expression, "Is it a boy or a 
cheeld?" Qrimm, in his Deutsches Worterbiich, Band 5 
(Leipsic, 1873), p. 713, s. v. Kind, mentions a similar use 
of bub^n and kindern (in the sense of boys and girls) in 
Switzerland. 

111. Line 100: how the gea FLAP-DRAOON'D t7; i.e. swal- 
lowed it like a jlap-drcigon (now known as gnap-dmgon). 
See Love's Labour's Lost, note 152 (vol. i. p. 64). 

112. Line 124: You're a XADE old »uin.— This is Theo- 
bald's emendation (after a conjecture of "L. H.") of the 
Ff. reading ituid. The word is countenanced, not only by 
the sense of the context, but by a passage in Dorastus 
and Fawnia: "The goodman . . . desired her to be quiet 
... if she could holde her peace, they were made for 
ever" (Ha*litt, p. 47). 

ACrr IV. Scene 1. 

113. Line 2: make and u7\fold. — Ff. print makes, and 
vnfolda, which some editors retain. I'he correction, 
which seems to be required, was made by Rowe. 

114. Lines 4-6: 

Impute it not a crime 

To me or my ttivi/t parage, that I glide 

O'er sixteen years. 
Sir Philip Sidney, in his Apologie for Foetrie, 1595, com- 
plains that the dramatic authors of his time are "faulty 
both in place and time, the two necessary companions of 
corporall actions. . . . For ordinary it is that two young 
Princes fall in love. After many trauerces, she is got 
with childe, deliuered of a faire boy, he is lost, groweth a 
man, falls in loue, and is ready to get another child, and 
all this in two hours space: which how absurd it is in 
sence, even sence may imagine, and Arte hath taught, 
and all auncient Examples iustifled" (Arber's Reprint, 
pp. 63, 64). A similar lamentation is raised by Whetstone 
Ia the preface to his Promos and Cassanilra. 

ACT IV. Scene 2. 

115. Line 4: It is fifteen years since I saw my country. 
—This is probably a slip of Shakespeare's, and as such I 
refrain from altering it; that he intended the number of 
years to be sixteen is evident not merely from Time's 
speech in the prologue to this act, but from v. iii. 31, 50. 

116. Lines 5, 6: though I have for the most part been AIRED 
abroad. -I think Rolfe is right hi explaining the word 
aired as "lived, breathed the air. or been in the air— in 
distinction from being in the grave, which, as Polonius 
says (Hamlet, ii. 2. 211), 'is out o' the air."' 

117. Line 22 : heapiiuj friendships. — Friendship is 
several times used by Shakespeare in the sense of ' ' friendly 
service." Compare Merchant of Venice, i. 3. 160: 

To buy his favour, I extend thisyrienJshi/; 

where Shylock is referring to " the bond." 

380 



lia Line 35: / have missingly noted.— Schmidt takes 
mistingly to mean with regret (" so as to feel and regret 
the absence"). Steevens thinks it means at intenrali; 
and Richanlson, in his dictionary, explains the phrase, 
"observing him to be missing, to be absent, [I have] 
noted"— which seems the most probable hypothesis. 

119. Line 52: but, I fear, the angle that plucks our son 
thUher.—So the Ff., which print "I fear" in brackets 
The Old-Spelling Shakespeare reads, "But I feare the 
Angle." The use of but rather than "and" in such n 
clause seems rather singular. 

120. Line 56: / think it NOT UNEASY.— Shakespeare osei 
the word uneasy in the sense of " not easy," i.e. difficult, 
in one other passage (Tempest, i. 2. 450-452): 

but this swift business 
I must uneasy make, lest too lig^ht winning 
Make the prize litfht. 

In the modern sense of uncomfortable the word is used in 
two, and only two, other places: II. Henry IV. iii. 1. 10, 31. 

ACT IV. Scene 3. 

121. Line 2: the DOXY.— A cant word for strumpet, 
given by fioyer, in his French Dictionary, as equivalent 
to ' * trull. ' Compare Middleton, I'he Roaring Girl, L 1 : 

Atoil. Sirrah, where 's your doxyt halt not with me. 
Omues. Doxy! Moll, what's that? 
.!/(>//. His wench. 

Compare Bums, The Jolly Beggars : 

And at n^ht. in bam or stable. 
Hug our doxies on the hay. 

Aunts, line 11 below, has the same meaning, as is very dis- 
tinctly set forth in a passage quoted by Steevens from 
Dekker's Honest Whore, i. 2: "to call you one o' mint> 
aunts, sister, were as good as call you arrant whore." 
Compare Middleton, Michaelmas Term. iii. 1: "She de- 
manded of me wliether I was your worship's aunt or no. 
Out, out, out I ■■ (Works, x. 470); and Parson's Weddintr, 
ill 1: " Yes, and follow her, like one of my aunts" (Haz- 
litt's Dodsley, xiv. 448). 

122. Line 4: For the red blood reigns in the winter* 

PALE.— This probably means paleness, as in Venus and 

Adonis, 589-501 : 

a sudden faU . . . 

l^surps her cheek. 

It may allude to pale, an inclosure— probably enough 
combines both meanings. 

123. Line 7 : Doth set my PUOGING tooth ON edge.- 
Ff. print an, which was modernized by Theobald. Stee- 
vens quotes from Middleton and Dekker's Roaring Girl, 
v. 1, a passage in which the word puggards occurs in 
list of various classes and conditions of thieves: 

and know more laws 
Of cheators, lifters, nips, foi&ts. fuggardt, curbers. 
With nil the Devil's black-tj^uard. 

—Work!,, ed. Dycc. IL 546. 

Steevens also tells us that pugging is " used by Greene 
in one of his pieces," but he gives no reference. 

124. Line 10: With, heigh! tpith, height the thrueh and 
the jay.— This is the reading of F. 2 ; F. 1 reada : 

tritM heigh, tht Thrush and thtJety. 



ACT IV. Botm 3. 

lU. tinea): bw^.— It liu well touy.rorlhecndlt 

of Hhskupean'i rhfmai. ttwt Imdgrt In thg Ft. it gpelt 
Bouyet. uid ii thiu ■ Terr ttli rhyme for awtuA it. 
Biulgtl, wlilch the principlei of moJeruiutlDD oblige ooe 
tu lubatltate. is ol count no rhyme it mil. Probalilf 
HbikBipeare ilelllranlely mlHpelt (he vord for Lh« uk« 



NOTES TO THE WINTER'S TALE. 



I. Une 



; My/athir nawi'd »u -lu(oJj«uj.— Autolj- 
DD of the light-IlDgered god Mercuiy, uid 
nil to Lkve reBacted grest credit on the 



and odd ihiUiHs-yttioi. 
!rb by dealen ii 






fuie, of llieClowD'gwonleit: ' Every eleveo wether lodi; 

KltKQ note*. □□ Ihe tulhorlty of fltaOord'e Breele Con- 
alpte of Euglltli Follie/e. IMil. p IS. thit the price ot ■ 
tod of wuul wu It Uiit period twenty or two^ad-tweaty 
•bllllngi: K the medluoi price wu euKtly "pound and 
odd ■hilling.' 






in. Lioe 3U : our $httf-tluaTia3 feat 
at Somenetihirc and Dor»et— perhapt i 
■hearing time ii itlll kept with feitlrltlei. Sleeieu 
qiiotee, ■■ su llliulnitlon of the fre([uent complaint* aa 
h> the elpente o( thete faait^ Uueilloni ot proBUbl* 
ud pleaaaiit Ci)n<:eniliig>, Sx.. li>U: "It It be a thtep- 
thtariugftatl. Maiiler Bally cui eolertalne yua with hl> 



of reckoning! I, 



lao. Line ii: thrte-iaaa long 
catchei in tliree parti. lu tlie 
Sboeiuaker'i Holiday, ISW). two ' 



il three ■heplieirdi 
:■ tpUa and taffrvt 



Ogllvle. Imperial Dli:t 
chiefly uied for roast 



irdiiv^net.— A large cooking pear 
mrrten The word la In Walker-a 
n later editions I do not llnd It. 
muy. deflnea it ai" a kind of pear 
g or baking: w> called became It 



rs.— Grant White la 



a paper; bat in that c«*e the clown waa a profeaalonal 
Jeiter attendant on a lady of rank, not a ilmple ruitlc. 

ISS. Line M: /' lAs nami of int.'-Thla 1* uaually 
prtuteil with Rowe'i puuctuatloii : f Ikt name vf mt—i 
the FT. have a full itop after inc. A writer In the Oen- 
tleman'a llagailDe, cited by the Cambridge edlton, lug- 
getta tliat Ihe cIdwq waa going to lay i ' the nanv it! 
iniroK .' when be waa Interrupted by Autolycua ateeveni 
cominret the form ot Interjection Btfoit »i> (aa In Twelfth 
Mghl, 11. t. IH), and aayi that /' U< tuiiu ^tnnWi, 
vulgar eii:laiiiation which hs baa often heard. It doei 
not aeem to me entirely unfamiliar ; to I hare replaoed 
the mark of lutetniptioo by a note of eiclamallon. 

lU. Line 88 : Ual liiUi my Ararl.— Compare Henry V. 
ILl. es: "The king baa tiil'd Ail A«r(." 

lU Line 9°: (reU-intr^fainai. -Thl> li an old game. 
called in French (rou-riiadaini, and aometimea known aa 
pigeon .holes, a description ot whl>:h la quoted by Farmer 
from Dr. Jonea' Beneflt of the Ancient Bathei of Buck- 
atone: ■' The ladyei, gentle w.wmen, wyvei, and maydea, 
may Inuneof thegalleriowalke: and If Ihe weather be* 
Dot agreeable to their eipectaclon, lliey may have In the 
•hiche to 



epunu 



<f lea. 



alio ot topper, tynne, woode, eytber vyoleut or 
•ofte. after their owne dlacretlon; the paityrae Irsult-iu- 
maddjjie la termed." Boyer. French Dictionary, has: 



lis. Line 101: 


Ac 


llalA bmi 


lina an > 


PB-BIA« 


Thonpe-6««f» 








rot the 








n to Barth 


Diomew 


"He hai ne'er H 


w 


rd-and-bu 


kler man In 


hit fair 



for the King of Engtnnd, and Inck again for the prioc*." 
Compare, too, Maatiutp^r'B Bondman, ill. S, where "Enter 
Ontculo. leading Aaotua in an ape'a habit, with a chain 
about hla neck.'' The early part ot Ihe acene may be 
consulted for ladicatlona ot the profeaalonal dutiea of 



1ST. Lioea l(tt, IDS: Men ht ampatfd a HOI 
Prodigal Son,— Vuliou waa uled in Shakaapeai 
the sense ot pupfietahow. Conpare Jam 



I In fataillar uie ai a lUng verb- 

' rial Dlcllouary, ttuutei De Qu 

ivrta of villains, knaves, prigt. i 



A .Mueveb and the 

n fur a thlaf la stUl 
rig. Ogilvie, Impc- 



<w like the worthy "clowi 
olfe bias u> gee Twelttll 
" clown " l> tu be fouud 



part of a taCch printed la An Autidote against : 
chuly, made up In Pills ™rapouiideil of Wltly E 
Jovial Soiigi, and llerry Calthea, 1681. p. 69. The i 



.ve Intended 

Xight, r. 1. " Jog on, my hone) 
reading from rial Shakespeare. 



£nlght gives the air In hli Picto- 



ACT IV. Scene 3. 



NOTES TO THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT IV. Scene 4. 



140. Line 133: And merrily HENT the »tile-a.—Hent, 
meaning to take hold of, and so here, no doubt, to clear, 
occurs again in another sense still, in Measure for Mea- 
sure, iv. 6. 14, and, as a noun, in Hamlet, ill 3. 88 : 

Up, sword, and know thou a more horrid Ment. 

The word is from the Anglo-Saxon hentan. Compare 

Chaucer, Prologue, 096-608 : 

He seide, he hadde a gobet of the seyl 
That seynt Peter hadde. whan that he wente 
Uppon the see, till Jhesu Crist him Mtnte. 

Steevens quotes Spenser, Faerie Queene, bk. iii canto vii. 

Great labour fondly hast thou ht»t in hand. 

In the 1729 edition of Boyer's French Dictionary the par- 
ticiple hent (meaning " caught") is given, but marked as 
obsolete. 

141. Lines 134, 135: 

A inerry heart yoe« ali the day, 
Your sad tires in a mile-a. 
Compare what seems like a remiuisceuce of this in Beau- 
mont and Fletcher's Knight of the Burning Pestle, i. 4 : 
" I may curse the time that e'er 1 Imew my father; he 
hath spent all his own and mine too; and when I tell him 
of it, he laughs, and dances, and sings, and cries, *A 
merry heart lives long-a.' " 

ACT IV. Scene 4. 

142. Line 9: a stpain's WEARlNa.— Compare Othello, iv. 
8. 16: "my nightly xeearing" the only other instance of 
the word. 

143. Line 12 : Digest IT. — This word, which seems 
equally necessary for sense and for rhythm, was added 
in F. 2. 

144. Lines 13. 14: 

Sicorn, I think, 

To show myself a glass. 
This evidently means, as Malone took it, that the prince 
seems, by his rustic disguise, as if he had sworn to show 
her, as in a glass, how she herself ought to have been 
attired. Compare Julius Ceesar, i. 2. 67-70: 

And, since you know you cannot see yourself 
So well us by reflection, I, your glms. 
Will modesdy discover to yourself 
That of yourself which you yet know not of. 

Hanmer changed sworn to swoon (after a conjecture of 
Theobald's), a reading which, like many of Hanmer's, 
produces an easy text at the cost of all its pith and char- 
acter. 

146. Lines 25, 26: 

The gods themselves, 

Uunibling their deities to love, &c. 
Compare Dorastus and Fawnia: "The Gods above disdain 
not to love women beneath. Phcsbus liked Sibilla, Ju- 
piter lo, and why not I Fawnia? one something inferiour 
to these in birth, but fanre superiour to them in beautie. 
. . . And yet Dorastus shame not at thy shepheards 
weede: Uie heavenly ^odes have sometimes earthly 
thoughtes: Neptune became a ram, Jupiter a Bui, Ap- 
ollo a shepheard, Ac" (Hazlitt. pp. 55, 02). 

146. Line 46 : Be inerry, (JKNTLE.— Compare Antony and 

382 



Cleopatra, iv. 15. 47: " Gentle, hear me ; " and Measure for 
Measure, i. 4. 24: 

Crntie and fair, your brother kindly frreets you. 

147. Lines 60-62: 

her face & fire 

With labour, and the thing she took to quench it 
She would to each one sip. 

This is the punctuation of the Ft The Cambridge editors 
take away the poor woman's character by the simple 
transposition of a comma, thus : 

her face o' fire 
With labour and the thing she took to quench it. 
She would to each one sip. 

The Ff. are far from saying that her face was inflamed 
with drink; it is a trait of politeness that they emphaaize. 
Where the character of a lady depends on a single comma, 
no gentleman can hesitate which reading to adopt. 

148. Lines 74-76: For you there's rosemary and rue. 
&c. — Compare Hamlet, iv. 5. 175, 176; and see the note 
on that passage. 

149. Line 82: gillyvors.—Thhi is, the flower commonly 
known as "gillyflower." the carnation. The word is from 
" caryophyllum," through the French "girofle." Steevens 
supposes "gill-flirt," a wanton, to be derived from giUy- 
vor, "which, though beautiful in its appearance, is apt, in 
the gardener's phrase, to run from its colours, and change 
as often as a licentious female." Douce reasonably in- 
fers that the bad character of gilly-flovrers comes from 
their resemblance to a "painted woman." "The gilly- 
flower or carnation," he reminds us, "is streaked with 
white and red. lu this respect it is a proper emblem of 
a painted or immodest woman, and therefore Perdita 
declines to meddle with it. She connects the gardener's 
art of varying the colours of the nbore flowers with 
the art of painting the face, a fashion very prevalent 
in Shakespeare's time. This conclusion is justified by 
what she says below" (lines 101-103: "were I painted" 
&C.X 

160. Lines 105. 106: 

The marigold, that goes to bed wC the sun 
And with him rises weeping. 
This, says Ellacombe, Plant-Lore of Shakespeare (cited 
by Rolfe), is probably the " garden marigold " {Calendula 
ojleinalis), which was formerly much used in gardena 
"It was the 'heliotrope' or 'solsequium' or 'tumesol* 
of our forefathers, and is often alluded to under these 
names. " Grant Wliite cites Coghan, The Hauen of Health, 
1584, p. 68: "marigoldes are hoate and drye, an herbe 
well knowen and as usual in the kitchln as in the hall : 
the nature of [Mhem] is t«) open at the Sunne rising, and 
to close up at the Sunne setting." 

151. Lines 110-118: 

O Proterpina, 

For the flowers now, that frighted thou letVstfall 

From Du('h wagon! 
It is evident from Venus and Adonis that Shakespeare 
had read Ovid, probably both in the original when at 
school and afterwards in Arthur Golding's translation 
(1567). The lines here are an evident reminiscence of the 
passage in the 5th book of the Metamorphoses: 



ACT IV. Scene 4. 



NOTES TO THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT IV. Scene 4. 



ut summa vestem laxavit ab ora 
Collecti flores tunids ceciderc remissis; 

which Qolding renders: 

And as she from the upper part hir garment would have rent. 
By chance she let her lap slip downe, and out her flowers went. 

Halliwell quotes from Barnes, Divils Charter, 1607, the 
expression " the wagon of black Dis." Wagon is used for 
carriage in All s Well, iv. 4. 34: " Our wagon is prepar'd." 

152. Line 122: pale primroM^.— Compare Cymbeline, ir. 
2. 221: "The flower that's like thy face, pale primrose." 
Milton's " rathe primrose that forsaken dies " (Lycidas, 
142) is a less evident echo of Sh^espeare's diviner verse 
than the passage as it originally stood: 

Bring the rathe primrose that unwe<lded dies. 
Colouring the pale cheek of unenjoy'd love. 

163. Line 126: The croicn imperial.— This flower (the 
Fritillaria iinperialis) was originally a native of the East. 

154. Line 127: The JUnoer-de-luee.—ComptLTe Henry V. 
v. 2. 223, 224: " what sayestthou, my iairjloicer-de-lueet" 
Ellacombe quotes a number of passages bearing on Uie 
question whether Shakespeare was thinking of a lily or 
an iris. It is not of much consequence, but it seems 
probable that he was botanically wrong. 

155. Line 142: Ifothitig but that; move gtUl, $tiU so.— 
Rolfe quotes an ingenious defence of the rhythm of this 
line from Cowden Clarke: "The iteration of stUl in the 
peculiar way that Shakespeare has used it conjoinedly 
with the two monosyllables move and so, gives the musical 
cadence, the alternate rise and fall, the to-and-fro undu- 
lation of the water— the swing of the wave— with an effect 
upon the ear that only a poet gifted with a flne perception 
would have thought of." I suppose no one will deny that 
Shakespeare was a poet gifted with a flne perception. 

156. Lines 147. 14S: 

but that your youth. 

And the true blood lehich peeps fairly through'L 

Is this a reminiscence of Hero and Leander, third sestiad, 

lineH 39. 40: 

Through whose white skin, softer than soundest sleep. 
With damask eyes /Mt ruby blood doth f«ef I 

Shakespeare quotes directly from the poem in As Yon 

Like It, iU. 5. 82. 83: 

Dead shepherd, now I find thy saw of might, — 
" Who ever lov'd that lov'd not at first sight?" 

The "dead shepherd's" immortal "saw" is in sestiad 1, 
line 17G. It should be noticed that in order to get the 
proper rhythm in line 148 it must be read with a strong 
accent on the word tme, a lesser accent having been laid 
on the first word of the line. Perhaps there is some cor- 
ruption in the text. 

157. Line ICO: That makes her blood look OUT.— Ff. read 
on 7, which is an evident misprint for the word substituted 
by Theobald, out. 

158. Line 169: a xcorthy FEGDiMa.— Steevens quotes 
Drayton, Polyolbion, vi. : " iXieiT feedings, flocks, and their 
fertility." Compare As You Like It, ii. 4. 99, vrhere feeder 
is used for shepherd, one v\io feeds the flocks. 

169. Line 192: mi^2tiu>r.— Shakespeare uses this word 
only here and in I. Henry IV. i. 3. 36: "perfumed like a 



miUiner." Schmidt defines milliner "a man who deals 
in fancy articles," and this, rather than the purely modem 
meaning, is the sense in both passages. MiUiner is gen- 
erally supposed to have originally meant one who deals 
in Milan wares, but, says Wedgwood, Dictionary of 
English Etymology, no positive evidence has been pro- 
duced in favour of the derivation. 

IGO. Line 195: burdens of DILDOS and FADTSQS.—Dildo 
and fading are both burdens frequently met with in old 
ballads, as in songs cited by ]^Ialone, the burden of one 
(from The Choice Drollery, 1656, p. 31) being: 

With a di/do, dUdo, diido. 
With a dildo, dUde, dee ; 

and of another (fron Sportive Wit, 1656. p. 58): "with a 
fading^ with a fading." A fading is said to be an old 
Irish dance, and as such is referred to by Ben Jonson and 
Beaumont and Fletcher. There is a lengthy note on the 
name and character of the dance in the Variorum Shak- 
speare, xiv. 429. 430, part of which, a description of the 
Irish dance, still (or at least in 1803) to ))e met with "on 
rejoicing occasions in many parts of Ireland.' "The 
dance is called Jiinca Fada, and means literally 'the 
long dance. ' . . . A king and queen are chosen from 
amongst the young persons who are the best dancers, Uie 
queen carries a garland composed of two hoops placed 
at right angles, and fastened to a handle; the hoops are 
covered with flowers and ribbands; you have seen it, I 
daresay (writes Malone's Irish correspondent), with the 
May-maids. Frequently in the course of the dance the 
king and queen lift up their Joined hands as high as they 
can, she still holding the garland in the other. The most 
remote couple from the king and queen flrst pass under; 
all the rest of the line linked together follow in succea- 
sion: when the last has passed the king and queen sud- 
denly face about and front their companions; this is 
often repeated during the dance, and the various undula- 
tions are pretty enough, resembling the movements of a 
serpent." 

161 . Lines 200, 201 : " Whoop, do me no harm, good man. ' '— 
In The Famous History of Friar Bacon, says Farmer, there 
is a ballad to the tune of " Oh I do me no harme, good 
man." The tune is preserved in a collection of Ayres, to 
sing and play to the Lvte and Basse Violl, with Pauins, 
Oalliards, Almaines, and Corantos. for the Lyra Violl, by 
William Corbine, 1610. 

162. Line 204: Has he any UNBRAIDED learesI—Un- 
braided wares may mean, as Steevens suggests, anything 
besides laces which are braided— the principal commodity 
of pedlars ; it has been tliought, from a passage in All 's 
Well, iv. ii. 73, where braid is used for deceitful (A. S. 
bragd, deceit), that unbraided may more probably mean 
not counterfeit, genuine, as in Steevens' quotation from 
Anything for a Quiet Life: "She says that you sent ware 
which is not warrantable, braided ware, and that yoa 
give not London measure. " Schmidt sm^gests that un- 
braided may be the clown's blunder for "embroidered." 

163. Line 208: tnir^.— See Love's Labour's Lost, note 60. 

164. Line 208: caddises. —Compare I. Henry IV. iL i. 
79: " oa(/(i w-garter." Caddises were "worsted tapes or 
bindings, used for garters, <S:c." (New English Dictionary^ 

383 



NOTES TO THE WINTER'S TALE. 



Comiiare Lyly, EuphuM («l. 1888, p. 210) : " The coDDtry 
dung girdsth heneUs u atmlght in ihs wuM wll' 
cDurw eadiii, u th« MkdMnfl «t tha court with ■ lUk 



IBS Line 312: r 



II, OoASnj ut Bullolgne. il 



quotelTiinlngo[lllsShrcw,]T.2 &g: "To tune 
inil ^ann her chAtt«ring tuugup," ^. Colllfr. 
uotlDg the conJecUin ud Olflord'i ipprovnl of It, Uibib 
^r be douliled DCTerthelao. " Hunt«rqUD(?Bl'ijUir 



ilnloD Uint then J> h 



Trnno BBjv ifniply ia tttta. 
ler LlDe 3ilt Cypnij.-Ses Twelfth Night, a 

cypren woiid; here It li obyiuuil]' uied loraiorto 
The wgrd it rendered ^jfoiu criipaia by Mlnah 
dvKribet tt u "allDe curled lUieu." N*ret c[uo 



Bd, flgurttlvely, tu fttop. ] 
iDtetpretatlon of a umewh 



I believe, printed hliownpoemf, uhdiBch 
could hardly hare eacaped hia eye; and 1 
th he and Shaksipeare ueed a rerb pro- 



The word, in the kdh oI luoamlr«, oucun in the Oiat 
•tage-dlrectluB tf the Puritan: "Euterthe Lady Widow 
tlua, Fraacei and Mull, Hlr Oodlrey with Kdmond. all in 
mourning; the latter la a ci/prtu hat " 
IfiS. liiKlSi: iKikiiy-ttitlaqf tueL—Pokiag-4lida''ien 

heated, for adjuiting the plalu uf mfla Compare Uld- 
dleton. Ulurt Uutcr CoiuUblo. 111. 3 (cited by Steereiu): 
•■Voiirniltinu: 



with fair long hand 
Illy neatlng hauda." Kor a de: 
HM Stubbet, The Second Fart of 
(no date): "They be mule of yi 
of braBK, kept ai bright as Biluf 
It aelle. an.] It li well. If In pn 
not to be gold. The faahlon wl 



a. leat they 

rriptlon 












wlthalt. and when they come &> atarchlng, and aetting o( , 
their ruDei. than muat thii initniment be heated la the I 
Are. the better to lUIIen the ruffe. For you know heate 
will drle. aud itiffeu any tbli«. And il you woulde 
know the name of Uila goodly loole. forwothe the deulll ' 
liath given it to name a putter, or elu a putting atlcke, 
aa heare aay" (ilg. Vi. back). Htubbea In^elghi igalDat 
mffi and all their appnrtenancei at great leugtb, and 
with awlul aoUwnlty. 

laa. Line UT, ItUn-hiAt-Rvn. and hi Uerry Wlvea, I 
Iv. i. Sfl, where the word alao occun. kUa ii epelt kiU, In j 
the ViMo. luUowlng. nodoubl, the cummon pronDnclatioo. 
It la not certain whether It meane the mouth of an oven 
ur the opening under a Bture. Htrriitaygthat -'JMn-AuI< 
la pronounued Hit-holt In the midland countlei, and gen- ! 
enlly nienna the flre-place need In nuking inalt. and li ' 
•till a nuteil Kuanlpliig place," i 

iro. LluemO: CLiHlX'R ifoiir (oitfuH.—Orey auggeated 
that rfnni'mr la a miaprlut for " charm "<>.e. alienee), and I 



with faa 



where Coialer and M. iinoa nmA eiarnrncd, aa It ia li 
the paaaage from Antonio aud Jlelllde, qtioted In Ur. 
Wilghl'a Dlcllonary. a.v. Clam" In .\otea and guerlei, 
eth Seriei, vol. rl. July 8, 11182. Dt. Brinaley Nlcholaai 

quolea fmni Halyoke Rldvt't En gllah. Latin IHctlonaiy: 
"the apparently then aenil-abaolete verb 'toelanux. i. 
atoppe'" "AgBln. In W.DIckluion-a Dialect of Cumber- 
land (E. D. S., lerS) I found (aaya Dr. NIcholMDX 'Claat. 
tair; » W., a yoke lor the neck of a inw to pnienl bar 
leaping hedgea'li.e. a conllivuice to atop or reitralnhet. 
« atopper). The bucoUi^ clown, thereture, uaing a liucolic 
Bgure. udd: ■CCaiiiintr li t. put the ^inmtri on] jroar 
tonguea, and let them not be unruly: not e wonl more.' 
8haheapeare, had he but once heard tl 



tmm. lU a: 






with II 



noat oppoalUon to, the ordinary dauuHir, and 
ibered 11 the more nadlly." It will thuabe 
e have In evidence two verba to elaminer. both 
ctlcilly the aanie algnlll cation. It Menu nn- 
> alter the apelUng. >□ ratiible a thing fD thoae 



« derired from SL 
i could be bought It 
1 becauae the Mint 
:h abe reganlcd u a 



. Soene 4. 



NOTES TO THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT IV. Soene 4. 



Not the smaflest b«ck. 
with white pebbles makes her tawdries for her neck. 

B too Spenser, The Faithful Shepherdess: 

The primrose chaplet. tawdry laet and rin^. 

line 263: a 'pair of stoeet glovet.—See Much Ado, 

ine 271: Bless me from marrying a umrer!— 
B Much Ado, T. 1. 145 : " God blest me from a 

rer 

Jne 279: Here's another ballad of a fish, &c.— 
quotes from the Stationers' Register, 1604, the 
g entry: "A straunge reporte of a monstrous 
appeared in the form of a tpoman, from her waist 
seene in the sea." In Sir Richard Baker's Chron- 
ler date ad. 1180. it is said: "This year also 
to Oxford in Suffolk, certain fishers took in their 
ih, having the shape of a man in all points, which 
kept by Bartholomew de Olandeville in the castle 
'd six months and more." Halliwell refers to a 
of "ballads, broadsides, and fugitive pieces on 
s of wonders." The present dialogue, he says, 
to be a general, not a particular, satire; but it 
curiously illustrated by an early ballad of a fish, 
rom the unique exemplar preserved in the Miller 
)n, entitled,—' The discription of a rare or rather 
>nstrous flshe, taken on the east side of Holland 
of November, anno 1666.' ... In Sir Henry 
's office-book, which contains a register of all the 
' London from 1623 to 1642. is 'a license to Francis 
to shew a strange jlsh for a yeare, from the 10th 
H, 1636." 

ine 816: SAD faflr.— For <ad = serious, see Twelfth 
iote202. 

ine 330: That doth utter all men's vfare-a.— 
used two or three times in Shakespeare in the 
sell, or more strictly, " cause to pass from one 

another " (Schmidt). See Romeo and Juliet, note 
I p. 262). 

inet 333, 384: men qf hair, they eall themselves 
—A dance of satyrs was a frequent part of medi- 
tertainments. Hudson quotes Bacon, Essay 87, 
8 of antimasques: " They have been commonly of 
ityrs, baboons, wildmen, antics, beasts, sprites, 
Ethiopes, pigmies, turquets, nymphs, rustics, 
itatues moving, and the like." One of the most 
for the consequences it was like to have brought, 
t in which Charles VI. nearly lost his life. See 
t, book iv. ch. 63 (Johnes' translation, ed. 1889, 
p. 560-662X There is a print of the masque, from 
th-century MS., on p. 661. The Variorum Shak- 
Ives another print, voL xiv. p. 372. 

Jne 886: a gallimaufry.— This word is used again 
1 in Merry Wives, ii. 1. 119. Steevens cites Cock- 
ictionary of Hard Words, 1622: "GaUimat^fry, a 
1 heape of things together." Boyer gives it as the 
mt of "hotch-potch." The word is from the 
fcUimafrie, a hash. Ogilvie. Imperial DicUnoary, 
(penser: " They have made our English tongue a 
Hfry or hodge-podge of all other speeches.** 
VOL. VII. 



179. Line 848: by the squtre.—Squire or sqttier, from the 
O.'Fr. ssquierrSj means Uie square, or foot-rule; as in 
Stanyhnrst's Preface to his translation of the first four 
books of the Mneid, 1682: " hauing no English writer bee- 
fore me in this kind of poetrye with whose squire I should 
leauel my syllables." The word is used in Love's Labour 's 
Lost, V. 2. 474; see note 196 (voL i. p. 67) 

180. Line 868: tmirted. —Compare Julius Cnsar, iv. 8. 11: 

To sell and mart your offices for gold ; 

and Cymbeline, i. 6. 161. 

181. Line 872: ir^.— Ff. read whom, as in 434 below. 

182. Lines 375, 876: 

the FANN'D SNOW that '« bolted 
By the rwrthem blasts twice o'er. 
Compare Midsummer Night's Dream, iii. 2. 141, 142: 

That pure conf^ealed white, high Taurus' snow, 
Fann'd with the eastern wind. 

183. Line 411: dispute his oion estate.— Thhi is, as 
Steevens paraphrases it, "reason upon his own affairs." 
Compare Romeo and Juliet, iii & 63: 

Let me dispute with thee of thy estate. 

184. Line 489: That thou no more thalt see this knack 
as never, dto. — Ff. have: 

That thou no more shalt neuer see this knacke, (as neuer). &c. 

The reading in the text is Rowe's, now universally adopted. 
The Cambridge editors very Justly defend the emendation 
as follows: "1 The misprint is of a very common sort 
The printer's eye caught the word at the end of the line. 
2. The metre is improved by the change. The line was 
made doubly inharmonious by the repetition of ' never.' 
8. The sense is improved. Polixenes would rather make 
light of his son's sighs than dwell so emphatically upon 
their cause." 

186. Line 442: Far than Deucalion of.— Far is printed 
in the Ff. farre, i.e. the old form of the comparative, 
/«rre = farther. Compare Chaucer, Canterbury Tales, 
Prologue, 48 (ed. Morris, Clarendon Press): 

And there to hadde he riden, nomanyVrrr. 

Deucalion, the Xoah of the Oreek l>eluge. is alluded to 
again, much as here, in Coriolanus, Ii. 1. 102: "worth all 
your predecessors since l>eucalion." 

188. Line 460: hoop his body. —This is Pope's correction 
of the Ff.'s misprint or variation of spelling, hope. 

187. Line 467: Looto on atilre.— Rolf e well observes that 
this mode of expression "does not differ essentially from 
look on she a looker-on, which is still good English. We 
say now ' I stood looking on' (Taming of Shrew, i. 1. 166) 
though we have ceased to use look upon in the same 
way; as in Troilus and Cressida, v. 6. 10: ' He is my prise; 
I will not look upon.' . . . See also v. & 100 below. 
Dyce says that these passages are 'not akin to the present' 
But look upon as there used implies an object as it does 
here; the only difference being that in the one case Uie 
omission of the object is the rule, while in the other it is 
the exception." 

186. Line 460: Wher*no priest shovels in dust.— TUl the 
reign of Edward VI. it was customary in burial senrieet 

885 m 



ACT IV. Scene 4. 



NOTES TO THE WINTER'S TALK 



ACT IV. Soene 4* 



for the prieftt» in laying " earth to earth," to cast the first 
earth upon the coffin. 

188. Lines 472. 478: 

If I might die within this hour, I have Ziv'd 

To die when I desire. 

Compare Macbeth, iL 8. 96, 97: 

Had I but died an hour before thb chance. 
I bad Uv'd a blessed time. 

180. Line 478: Fow know JOVK father's temper.— V. 1 
has my, which is obviously wrong. The correction is 
made in ¥. 2. 

181. Line 511: And most oppdrtune to HER need.—ThiB 
is the reading of F. 1, which has been all but universally 
abandoned (even by the Cambridge editors) in favour of 
Theobald's very plausible emendation our. Boswell de- 
fends the original reading on the ground that *'her neetl 
= the need we have of her, i.^. the vessel— which does not 
seem to me at all reasonable. I think, though for a very 
different reason, that her is not improbably right. Flori- 
sel's main thought is of Perdita, and by saying "Aer need" 
he shows how completely she has absorbed his thoughts 
to the exclusion even of himself. 

192. Line 524.— Now, good Camilla ;'—l have adopted 
here the punctuation of the Cambridge editors— a semi- 
colon instead of the usual comma after Camitfo. Malone 
inserted a stage-direction, "going," at the close of Flori- 
zel's present speech. The Cambridge editors remark: 
** We think Malone's stage-direction 'going' was inserted 
under a mistaken view of l-lorizers meaning. He apolo> 
fi^es to Camillo for talking apart with Perdita in his pre- 
sence. At the commencement of this whispered conver> 
sation he said to Camillo, ' 1 11 hear you by and by,' and 
at the close of it he turns again to him with ' Now, good 
Camillo;' Ac." 

193. Line 526: cvrioii«.— Compare Troilus and Cressida, 
iii. 2. 70, the only other passage in which the word is used 
in this particular sense. 

184. Lines 549. 550: 

But as the unthought-on accident is GUILTT 
To what we wildly do. 
Compare Comedy of Errors, iii. 2. 168: 

But, lest myself be guilty to self-wrong. 

185. Line 560: asks thee THE son forgivouss.— The first 
two Ff. have there instead of the, which is the reading 
of the later Ff. and probably right. The Old -Spelling 
editors contrive to preserve the words of F. 1 by a very 
ingenious change of punctuation, thus: 

Asks thee there, "Sonne! fon^uenesse l" 

I do not think, however, that Shakespeare could have 
written so jerky a line as this makes, or used so curious 
a construction as asks with an exclamatory sentence de- 
pending on it 

186. Line 588: But not TAKE IN the mind.— Take in is 
used seversl times in Shakespeare for subdue, conquer. 
Compare Coriolanus. i. 3. 28-25: 

our <iiiu ; which was. 
To taJte in many towns ere almost Rome 
Should know we were afoot. 

See also Massinger. A New Way to Pay Old Debts, v. I. 
286: 

386 



Ai) annjr of whole famtlie*. who yet alive. 
And but enroU'd for soldiers, were able 
To taJkt in Dunkirk. 

187. Lines 584, 506: 

Tour pardon, sir; for this 

I'U NiiM you thanks. 
F. 1 reads thus : 

Your pardon Sir, for this. 
He blush you Thanks. 

The later Ff. have a full-stop after this. The readfang in 
the text (Hanmer's) seems to give better sense than if we 
take it. as some editors do, with " 1 11 blush you thanks" 
in a separate clause. F. 1 favours either reading, so that 
an editor is free to follow his own preference. 

188. Line 600: pomander. —A pomander was a bail com- 
posed of perfumes, worn to sweeten the breath and pr»> 
serve from infection. Steevens gives a recipe for making 
it from Lingua, 1607. iv. 3: "Your only way to make a 
good pomander is this: Take an ounce of the purest gar- 
den mould, cleansed and steeped seven days in change of 
motherless rose-water. Then take the best labdanom. 
both storaxes, amber-gris and civet and musk. Incor- 
porate them together, and work them into what form you 
please. This, if your breath be not too valiant, will make 
you smell as sweet as my lady's dog." Halliwell. in his 
Folio ed. (vol 8) covers pp. 228-284 wiUi accounts and 
illustrations of pomanders. Another recipe may be 
quoted which he gives from Markham's English House- 
wife, ed. 1675, p. 109 : "To make Pomatuiers.—Take two 
penny-worth of labdanum. two penny-worth of storsx 
liquid, one penny-worth of calamus aromaticus. as much 
balm, half a quarter of a pound of fine wax, of cloves 
and mace two penny-worth, of liquid aloes three penny- 
worth, of nutmegs eight penny-worth, and of musk four 
grains : beat all these exceedingly together till they come 
to a perfect substance, then mould In any fashion yon 
please, and dry it" 

"In Lord Londesborough's museum," says Halliwell, 
p. 220. " is preserved a fine and very curious specimmi 
. . . which includes an original perfume ball . . . that 
still retains a faint scent. It consists of a small case of 
copper gilt, which opens on a hinge in the centre. It 
has a ring above for suspension, the surface being covered 
with geometric tracery which is perforated for the escape 
of the scent inside. This takes the form of a compact 
ball, moulded in lines across it, through which a wire 
passes forming a loop above to secure it inside the metal 
case, and to the lower part of the wire a small silver 
knob is attached." 

188. Line 624 : / would have fil*!) keys OFT.— So F. 
8 and F. 4. F. 1 haa/Urd Keyes of. 

200. Lines 654, 655: the gentleman is half ¥LXJ*T> already. 
— Ff. print the word Jled. In Boyer^s French Dictionary 
we find "To Flea, Verb Act. (or pull the skin off) SscvT' 
Cher," and "Flead, Adj. Bscorchir 

201. Line 668: For I do fear eyes ocer.—^ Ft, Rows 
added you, and Dyce reads over's. It is probably an ellip- 
tical expression for overseeing eyea. 

202. Line 680: / shall REVIEW 5icaia. - Shakespeare 
only uses review in one other place. Sonnet Ixxiv. b, 6: 



ACT IV. Soene 4. 



NOTES TO THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT V. Scene 1. 



Mrlien thou rtvitwett this, thou doct nev$ew 
The verjr pan was consecrate to thee. 

In both places it is used in its primary meaning, to see 
sgain. 

203. Line 728:/ardeZ.— Cotgravehas " Fardeau: a/antie, 
burthen, tmsse, packe, bundle." Compare More's Utopia 
(Ralph Robinson's translation, 1651): "I caste into the 
shippe in the steade of marchandise a prety fardel of 
bookes" (p. 119, ed. Arber). Fardel, though used six 
times in this play, occurs nowhere else in Shakespeare 
but in Hamlet. ilL i. 76. 

204. Line 731: Pray heartily he be jlt palace.— In F. 1 
the reading is at ' PaUaee, the later Ff. omitting the 
apostrophe. Rowe prints at the palace, which is of course 
what the Clown should have said, but not so certainly 
what he did say. The Cambridge edd. suggest that " per- 
haps the Clown speaks of the King being ' at palace ' as 
he would have spoken of an ordinary man being *at 
home;'" but it seems to me more probable that the apos- 
trophe is Used to indicate a very rapid pronunciation of 
the word the, such as is common now in the North, where 
a countryman would certainly speak of being at t palace. 

206. Line 734 : my pedler'e EXCREMENT.— .See Love's 
Labour's Lost, v. 1. 110, note 169 (vol. L p. 05), and com- 
pare Dekker. The Gull's Hornbook, 1609, ch. iii.: "But, 
alas, why should the chins and lips of old men lick up 
that exereineiit which they violently clip away from the 
heads of young men?" 

206. Line 741: of what ha vixa. —Compare Merry 
Wives, iiL 2. 73: "The gentleman is of no havitig," &c, 

207. Lines 743-746: Let me have tio lying: it becomes none 
but tradesmen, and they (iften give us soldiers the lie, &c. 
— Rolfe very well explains this passage, in defending it 
against a suggested emendation of Mr. Daniel's: " When 
[Autolycus] said that tradesmen 'often give us soldiers 
the lie,' he probably meant that they did it by lying about 
their wares (a trick that he was sufficiently familiar 
with) ; but. he adds, ' we pay them for it with stamped 
coin, not with stabbing steel'— as they deserve, or as you 
wx>uld suppose." 

206. Line 751: toith the manner.— See Love's Labour 'a 
Lost. L 1. 204, note 15 (vol. i. p. 64). 

209. Lines 759, 760: Think'H thou,/orthatIinsinuaU,on 
TOAZE/rom thee thy bttsineu, lam ther^ore no eourtiert 
— F. 1 reads at toaze, which the later Ff. render or toaze. 
Both form and meaning of the word are uncertain. The 
Cambridge edd. even suggest that Autolycus may have 
" coined a word to puzzle the clowns, which afterwards 
puzzled the printers." It seems probable that toa«e is a 
variant, perhaps intentional, upon touu, for which, per- 
haps, it may be merely a misprint Toiue or tease means to 
pull or draw, and is thus, as Henley remarks In an excel- 
lent note, the precise opposite to insinuate. '* The [latter] 
signifies to introduce itself obliquely into a thing, and the 
former to get something out that was knotted up in it 
Milton has used each word in its proper sense: 

—dose the serpent sly 

lustHHotiMg, wore with Gordian twine 

His braided train, and of his fatal i^e 

Gave proof unheeded. 

—Paradise Lost, bk. hr. L 347. 



—coarse complexions, 
And cheeks of sorry grain, will serve to ply 
The sampler, and to teate the housewife's wool 

— Comus, 1. 749." 

210. Lines 768, 709: Advocate's the court-word for a 
PHEASANT. — Kenrick unnecessarily suggests VisXpheasant 
should be present As Steevens very sensibly says: " As 
he was a suitor from the country, the Clown supposes his 
father should have brought a present of game, and there- 
fore imagines, when Autolycus asks him what advocate 
he has, that by the word advocate he means 9iphea*arU." 
Halliwell quotes from the Journal of the Rev. Giles 
Moore, 1665: ** I gave to Mr. Cripps, Solicitor, for acting 
for me in obtaining my qualifications, and effecting it, 
£1. 10».; and I allowed my brother Luxford forgoing to 
London thereupon, and presenting my lord with two brace 
of pheasants, lOt." 

211. Line 780: by the picking on 's teeth.— Comptae King 
John, L I. 190: 

He and his taoth^ck at my worship's mess ; 
where the Bastard is describing, and satirizing, the habits 
of a man of elegance, one who "moved in the best society." 

212. Line 813: *nainied over with honey, <&«.— Beed 
quotes a description of a similar mode of torture from a 
contemporary work. The Stage of Popish Toyes, 1581, p. 
83: "he caused a cage of yron to be made, and set it in 
the sunne: and, after annointing the pore Prince over witii 
hony, forced him naked to enter in it, where hee long 
time endured the greatest languor and torment in the 
worlde, with swarmes of flies that dayly fed on him; and 
in this sorte, with paine and famine, ended his miserable 
life." 

213. Line 825: being something gently CONSIDER'D.— 
Steevens quotes The lie of Gulls, 1633, iiL 1. [p. 65, Bui- 
len's reprint]: "Thou shalt be well considered; there's 
twentie Crownes in earnest." Scott, in The Fortunes of 
Nigel, represents the old miser Trapbois as having the 
word consideration (in precisely its present sense) con- 
stantly upon his lips. Grant White quotes Shirley, School 
of Complement, iii.: " Roundelaye's very good; here is 
moneyes and eonsidertUions, looke ye " (ed. 1637, p. 35). 

ACT V. Scene 1. 

214. Line 12: Paul TRUE, too true, my lord —The first 
True in the Ff. is added to the foregoing speech. Theo- 
bald was the first to correct an erident transposition of 
the printer's. 

216. Line 80: the former queen is WELL.— Compare An> 
tony and Cleopatra, ii 5. 31-33: 

Mtss. First, madam, he is ««//. 

CUo. Why. there's more gold. 

But, sirrah, mark, we use 
To say the dead are «v//. 

Henley suggests that the expression is derived from 2 
Kings iv. 26. 

216. Lines 57-60: 

would make her sainted spirit 
Again possess her corpse, and on this stage. 
Where we *re ofenders now, appear mnU-ve^d, 
And begin, " Why to mef" 

387 



ACT V. Scene 1. 



NOTES TO THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT V. Soene S. 



The Ff. read: 

would make her Sainted Spirit 
AKaine posiesse her Corps, and on this Stage 
(Where we OflTendora now appeare) Soule>irezt, 
And begin, why to ue? 

The anonymous conjecture adopted in the text has been 
finally receired by the Cambridge editors, and appears in 
the Globe Shakespeare. The passage is perhaps corrupt: 
nothing, at all events, can be said quite certainly about 
it But the emendation we hare accepted seems to do 
less riolence to the original text than any other of the 
numerous attempts that have been made to patch up a 
confessedly doubtful text Malone suggests that Why 
to msf may be supposed to mean " Why to me did you 
TpmftT one leu worthy t" Boswell conjectures: *'Why 
such treatment to me? when a worse wife is better used." 
If the text here is correct, Leontes is probably meant to 
break off his sentence, whatever it may have been, ab- 
ruptly, which he is much in the habit of doing. 

217. Lines 60, 61: 

Had she imch power. 

She had jtut cause. 

The first two Ff. read " She had lust tuch cause," which 
the Old-Spelling editors, who adopt this reading, explain 
by taking jtut mteh as = " even such. " The later Ff. omit 
tueh, and I think rightly. WhUe it is barely possible that 
F. 1 is right, there are such strong reasons for thinking it 
is wrong that one need not hesitate to prefer the later 
reading. As for the metre, that is not better one way 
than the other, but the sense is vastly improved by the 
omission of aueh, and nothing could be more probable 
than the supposition that the word tuch in the previous 
line caught the compositoi's eye and was inserted here by 
mistake. 

218. Line 66: Should RIFT to hear me.— Rift is used as 
a verb only here and in Tempest, v. 1. 46. Rive is used 
several times. Skeat, Etymological Dictionary, states 
that the word r\ft (spelt ryft) occurs in Palsgrave's 
Lesclaircissement de la Langue Francoyse, 16S0. 

219. Line 75: 

Cleo. Qood madam,— 

Paul. / have done. 

I have adopted Capell's emendation. The Ff. give the 
whole line to Cleomenes: "Good Madame, I haue done;" 
a reading which seems, if intelligible, self-contradictory. 

220. Line 142: worn (itnes. —Compare Taming of Shrew, 

ilL 2. 120: 

Could I repair what she will near in me. 

Worn times is of course a synonym for wasting years, i.e. 
old age. 

221. Lines 159, 100: 

from him whose daughter 
Hit tears proclaim'd his, parting with her. 

The comma after his, necessary to the sense, was first 
introduced by Hanmer. 

ACT V. Scene 2. 

222. Line 6: amaxednen.— This word occurs only here 
and in Merry Wives, iv. 4. 55. 

388 



223. Line 00: like a wiathse-bittbm conduit.— Henley 
compares Romeo and Juliet, iiL 6. laO: 

How now! a eanduit, girlt what, still In tearat 
and states that a conduit in the figure of a woman still 
exists (that is, existed in his time) at Hoddesdon, Herts. 
F. 8 changes weatherAniten to the more familiar weather- 
beaten; but Kitson quotes an instance of such an expres- 
sion {^'weathsrAriUen epitaph") from the preface to the 
2nd part of Antony Mundy's Oerileon of Bngland. 1592. 
Skeat, in his Etymological Dictionary, says that there 
" can be little doubt that, at least in some cases, the right 
word is weatherAritten, i,e. bitten by the weather [as here]. 
The latter is a true Scandinavian idiom. We find Swed. 
vdderbiUn. lit weather-bitten, but explained in Widegren 
as 'weather-beaten.'" 

224. Line 106: that rare Italian master, Juuo BOMABO. 
—The anachronism of this reference to Giulio Pippl, 
known as Giulio Romano (1492-1546X lerves to emphasise 
the emphatic praise of the allusion— one of the very few 
contemporary allusions made by Shakespeare. " Ape of 
Nature" is a title accorded to more than one painter by 
his fiatterers; it was given, among others, to Giotto's dis- 
ciple Stefano. 

226. Line 182: relish'd.—Schmidt explains relish'd ss 
' ' having a pleashig taste. " Rolf e very well suggests thst 
the meaning may be, " it would have counted as nothing 
in comparison with my discredits, would not have served 
to give them even a * relish of salvation ' (Hamlet iii. 8. 02> " 

228. Lines 177, 178: a tall fellow qf thy Aamft.— This ex- 
pression is still, in a measure, used, though the word taU 
has quittf lost the meaning it had in Shakespeare's time, 
and which gave point to the phrase (see Twelfth Night L 8- 
20, and the foot-note on foU)- Cotgrave has: *' Haut d la 
main, Homme d la main, Homme de main: a man of his 
hands; a man of execution or valour; a striker, like 
enough to lay about him;" and Halliwell quotes Pals- 
grave, Lesclaircissement &c., 1530 : " He is a tall man <4 
his hands, Cest ung httbille homme de ses mains." 

ACT V. Scene 3. 

227. Line 14: The statue qf her mother.— This is, ss we 
see later, a painted statue. They were sometimes met 
with in Shakespeare's time. Rolf e compares Ben Jonsoo, 
The Msgnetic Lady, v. 6: 

Jtuf. I 'd have her statue cut now in white auurble. 
Sir Moth. And have it painted in moet orient coloota. 
R%U. That 's right t all dty lUtues must be painted; 

Else thejr 11 be worth nought in their subtle Judf^nents. 

I remember a painted image of St Francis in a Catholie 
church, which, with a little art in the arrangement of 
light and curtains, might well have passed for a living 
man. One hears too of persons speaking to some of 
Madame Tussaud's more casual celebritiesL It would, 
one would think, be quite as easy for lifto to simulate 
stone, as for stone to mimic life. 

228. Line 18: Londy.—T. 1 has Louely, le. Lonely with 
a turned n, one of the commonest printing errora The 
later Ff. mistakenly print Loveiy. 

229. Lines 62, 68 : 

Would I were dead, but that, methinka, already— 
What was he that did make itf 



i 



ACT V. Scene 3. 



NOTES TO THE WINTER'S TALE. 



ACT V. Scene 3. 



Some editon hare rerj needloMly imagined that a line 
has been lott between these two lines, and Mr. Collier 
was kind enough to inrent a line for the purpose. The 
sentence suddenly broken short, and the abrupt swenre 
of thought, is entirely characteristic of Leontes, and 
would indeed be natural enough in any one under similar 
circumstances. 

230. Lines 07,68: 

The FIXUBK qfhereyehoM motion in % 
At toe are mock'd with art. 

Fixture is use<l only here and in Troilus and Cressida, L 
S. 101 (F. IX Clarke explains the passage : " The immobi* 
lity of eye proper to a statue seems to hare the motion of a 
living eye, as we are thus beguiled by art." Malone and 
Steerens take at to mean <u \f. 

231. Line 100: look ujMm.— See note 187. 

232. Line 132: Partakk to every one; i.e. impart; as in 
Pericles, L 1. 152, 153: 



our tolad/artaies 
Her private acUoM to your secrecy. 

283. Lines 149-161: 

This 18 your »on-in4aw. 

And eon unto the Kn^, who, heavent directing, 

le troth-plight to your daughter. 

Ft print: 

This your Soa^in-tew, 

And Sonne vnto the King, whom heauens directing 

Is trochopUght to your daughter. 

BCalone defends this reading on the assumption that 
**whom hearens directing" is in the absolute case, and 
has the same signification as if the poet had written 
"him hearens directing." But if taken in this sense, the 
main sentence becomes "This your son-in-law is troth* 
plight to your daughter"— surely a very tautological 
statement It is quite possible that Shakespeare may 
have written whom for irAo, but it seems better to make 
the correction with CapelL The insertion of it was made 
by Dyce, upon the suggestion of Sidney Walker. Proba- 
bly what Shakespeare wrote was Thit^= Thie it. 



WORDS OCCURRING ONLY IN THE WINTER'S TALE. 

NOTi.—The addition of sub., adj., verb, adv. in brackets immediately after a word indicates that the word is 

used as a substantive, adjective, verb, or adverb only in the paMage or passages cited. 

The compound words marked with an asterisk (* ) are printed as two separate words in F. 1. 



Across (prep.). 
Allay (sub.)... 
Ape-bearer — 
Attentivenesa. 



Act 8c. Line 
iv. 4 15 
iv. 2 9 
iv. 3 101 
V. 2 M 



Bailiff iv. 3 102 

Bed-swer\-er... ii. 1 93 
Behind-door worki iU. 3 76 
Behindhand ... v. 
Benched (vb. tr.) i. 

Bespice L 

Between (sub.) iii. 

Beverage L 

Bitterest (sub.) ill. 
Blister (vb. intr.) ii. 
Borrow (sub.X . L 
Branch (verb)., i. 

Break-neck i. 

Budgets (lub.) iv. 

»''"»~ I ill: 

Carnations >.... iv. 

Carver* v. 

Chamber-councils L 

Cheat (sub.). ... iv. 3 

Childness i. 

Chisel V. 

Clerk-Uke i. 

Climate (verb), v. 

1 hekimU-ilnort w>rk« in F. 1. 

S — leathrm bay. 

* Flower*. * -■ sculptor. 



1 


151 


2 


314 


2 


316 


3 


62 


2 


346 


2 


217 


2 


33 


2 


39 


1 


27 


2 


363 


8 


20 


2 


82 


2 


185 


4 


82 


3 


30 


2 


237 


29,120 


2 


170 


3 


78 


2 


892 


1 


170 



Coactive 

Co-heirs 

Co-join 

Connive 

Couples^ (sub.) 
Court-contempt 
Court-odour . . . 
(^urt-word.... 

Credulity 

Crone 

Crown imperial 

Cupbearer 

Currants 



Act 8c. Line 

i. 2 141 

ii. 1 148 

L 2 143 

iv. 4 692 

U. 1 135 

iv. 4 759 

iv. 4 768 

iv. 4 709 

iL 1 192 

a 3 76 

iv. 4 126 

L 2 313.345 

iv. 3 40 



Daffodils. 



(iv. 8 1 

" ' "J iv. 4 118 

Dedication*... iv. 4 577 

Derivative iii. 2 4ft 

Dibble iv. 4 100 

DildoB iv. 4 195 

Dimples' ii. 8 101 

Discontenting., iv. 4 543 

DiscrediU(sub.) v. 2 138 

Dished ill. 2 73 

Disjunction.... iv. 4 540 

Disliken. iv. 4 600 

Distinguishment U. 1 86 

Doxy iv. 8 2 

Ear-deafening, iii. 1 9 

* » ties for holdinit dogs, 
f -• committing, glring op. 
7 Venus and Adonis. Ml 



Elevated v. 

Enfoldings iv. 

Escape* (sub.). I ^*- 

Exultation 
Eye-gl 



Act 8c. Line 

2 81 

4 756 

1 95 

4 677 

V. 3 131 

i. 2 268 



Fadings iv. 4 195 

Fecksl i. 2 120 

Federary* iL 1 90 

FeUowest (verb) i. 2 142 

Findings (sub.) liL 8 182 

Fire-robed iv. 4 29 

*First-friiito... liL 2 98 

Fixure v. 8 67 

Flap-dragoned. liL 8 100 

FUtness llL 2 128 

Flaunts Iv. 4 23 

Flax- wench. .. . L 2 277 

Footman 10 iv. 8 67,68,09 

Forbiddenly... L 2 417 

Forceful iL 1 163 

Frequent 11 (adj.) iv. 2 86 

Frisk L 2 67 

Front" (sub.)., iv. 4 3 



• » flight; rami in other 
elMwhere. 

• — confederate; /ed/eny occurs 
in Measure, ii. 4. ISt; Cymb. liL 
S. 21. 10 . a pedflrtrian. 

u . addicted; - intimate, Bon. 
czviLS. 
11 ■■ beginning; 800. di. 7. 

389 



Gestit 

Oillyvors 

Glib (verb).... 
Goads (sub.)... 
Good deedi^. .. 
*Good-faced... 
Green-sward. . . 

Ground 1* 

Gust (verb). . . . 



AetScLine 

L 2 41 

iv. 4 82.96 



ii. 
L 
L 

iv. 

iv. 

iL 
L 



Hand-fasti*.... iv. 

Harden 17 i *• 

(liL 

Heartiness .... L 

Heati«(vert>).. L 

Heavings(sub.) iL 

Hefto IL 

Heiriess v. 

Honey-mouthed IL 

Honour-flawed ii. 

Hoop 1* (verb)., iv. 

Hornpipes. iv. 

Horn-ring iv. 

Hostess-ship. . . iv. 

Hoxes (verb) . . L 



1 
2 

2 
8 

4 
1 
2 



2 
2 

3 
1 
1 
2 

1 

4 
3 
4 
4 
2 



140 

829 

42 

128 
167 
16Q 
210 



4 706 
2 146 
2 58 

lis 

06 
86 
4ft 
10 
38 

148 

450 
47 

611 
72 

244 



It . stopping-place, limit. 

H M in rery deed. 

1* — Question, matter. 

1* » oooatraint, confinement 

IT Lucrsoe, 660, tn. 

Ii . to nin over (as at a raoeK 

19 » to clasp. 



WORDS PECULIAR TO THE WINTER'S TALK 



ltio«rt4lDUat. 111. 



Kaoe-ioep . . . 



Mort L 

Nar-wd U- 

Stb L 

Kvckbiee (v. 

Negatlvs (IdJ.) i. 
Non-pertommice 1. 




0«r-fonJ V. 2 

Over.kliid L 1 

, 0>rD*(veiH.. Ill i 

P»lr(Krt.)....{'; J 

ruhdub.).... L 1 

I flieuaaC It. t Tt 

irinlDeH tr. 4 

, Plut-pnwl U. 3 

FoUoMT L S 

Foklng.itlclu. . It. 4 

Pumuder II. 4 

Pre-employed.. il. l 

Pntif •(tub.).. III. S 

Fil«t-lil»i«(atlT.)L S 

Prte It. S 

FrtiKl[«lii(rab.}a 1 

ProcHa-HTTcr. iv. S 

FivTueiMB... IIL i 

Pragti»tlcitUun»iT. 4 

I'ruHlytei t. 1 

I'ugging It. 3 

B»cei> It. S 

RaiilDi It. 3 

Keii-loolied.... il. £ 

RellcnU. L t 

RemoTsdotu, . It. 1 

Rw]uli[[« (kd],) Iv 4 

UeTiewu |v t 

RlcB Iv. S. 

RlRllfvllllllI.) T. 1 

Kuddlueu T. 3 

Riutlci(iub.).. It. 4 

Sdtlen. It. t 



*d u ui adj. In Corloluw 



ut of IUka*Lii« tlH tutor 



licuiTiloai It. 

SeoDndi«(ulJ,) a. 

Semicircle. — li. 

Sba-angel ir. 

Bbcucn. iv. ; 

ftbfartng (tub.) It. 

Sheep-buok.... It. 
RhMp-vblitllDg It. 

•Sblp-ildc lU. 

Sboe-tie Iv. 

SiMwtiirdiili.). L 

SllOM(l*l1)).,, iv. 

sboulder-liUJe Iv. 
Sbauldei-boue. UL 
SbOTeli(Tcrb). It. 

Sighted L 

SkulUiig 1, 

aniutched L 

anippet-up..,, Iv. 

So-forth 1, 

Softeii (vb. InlT.) U. 

Suuthirir<l(>ilJ.)lT. 
SoDth'Trlnd.... t. 

Sovanlgoly I, 

Saw-ifciD iv. 

8l»lr.work . . . , Hi 
aUodlngK (lub.) L 
stirred ilL 

Stone !• (verb). Iv. 4 

Stislted ., Iv. 

Htretch-mDutheJ It, 

Stupid It. 

Svlne-henlt . .. Iv. 

Teleportcr iv. 

T'pe 1».4 

Imrdied (verb). III. 
Tairdrr.lici: ... iv. 



TemporiicT.... 1 £ SOI 

Tbi<^ (verb). . . I. s m 

•rhrefr-plle".. Ii. S 14 

Tbni>er-out . . ill S » 

Thnuh It. 3 IS 

'TliTS-llrra..,, It, S t 

TItUe-Mttling . It. 4 SIS 

Toiieti Iv. 4 7«l 

Tod(eul>.) tv. S 34 

Toditverb).... It. S t> 

TongtwleMf.. I i lit 

TnJIortjf Ir. 4 as 

TmU-my-tUiuet It. S St 

Troth-pllgfatdub.XL t ne 
TroUi-pUght»<itdJ.) T. 3 Ibl 

Vnuuwend... v. 1 fss 

I'nbrilded.... Iv. 4 £04 

I'bbteecheil... 1. 2 Ki 

l'nde«;iled.... tv. 4 OBS 

Uadreuued.... It. 4 C>7& 

Vneerthly UL 1 T 

VuBllal Iv. 4 m 

Unlntelllgetlt.. I. 1 IS 

I'DDurrled.,.. Iv. 4 IZS 

I'nroUed" . . . . Iv. 3 130 

UnrooeteJ-... 11. S 7* 

VniphcR t. t le 

I'ntTied iv. I « 

Uuveunble . . il. 3 TT 

Vlrgtnilllng... I 2 las 

•Wirden-plm , It 3 M 

IVeek-hlBgcd. , U, 3 111 

Weatber-bltten v. I « 

Whoo.bab... . Iv. 4 CM 

WUlnl-Degllgeiit I. : !W 

WithouMuor. IL 1 « 

Womu-tired.. IL 3 it 

WomlM (verb).. It. 4 Ml 



f 



JO circ 
om the B' 




Jl*