p. 6.

—If you can command theſe elements to ſilence, ... we will not handle a rope more.

This is a very early, though not the moſt favourable, ſpe⯑cimen of the integrity and correctneſs of the preſent text Both the folios read—"we will not hand a rope more;" [4]which is evidently right; that being the proper ſea-term in uſe at this day.

p. 10.

To meddle, ſays mr. Steevens, in this inſtance, ſignifies to mingle. Hence, adds he, the ſubſtantive medley. But it ſhould rather mean to interfere, to trouble, to buſy its ſelf, as ſtill uſed in the North: e. g. Don't meddle with me: i. e. Let me alone; Don't moleſt me. Medley can ſcarce be formed of meddle: it is, moſt likely, a corruption of the French word, meſleé.

p. 13.

And could this bald and threadbare phraſe have paſsed the examination of judicial collaters and correctors of Shak⯑ſpeares text? Would not rapt have been a fair and proba⯑ble conjecture, even if it had not been, as it is, the reading of the old editions? And could it, poſſibly, have eſcaped the obſervation of any perſon who had made a conſtant compa⯑riſon with the moſt authentic copies?

p. 28.

Spirits, perhaps, in the ſhape of urchins, or hedge-hogs; which as Caliban elſewhere complains, would ſometimes

[5]In the Merry Wives of Windſor, however, it ſeems to imply a ſpirit or fairy of a peculiar appearance.

p. 30.

More brutiſh than what? The old edition reads—"a thing moſt brutiſh;" and ſo ſhould this; as the quotation to dr. Warburtons note might have led the editors to ſuſpect.

p. 38.

That is: Do not raſhly determine to treat him with ſeve⯑rity: he is mild and harmleſs, and not in the leaſt terrible or dangerous.

p. 47.

You are gentlemen of brave metal.

What metal? Braſs or copper? Read mettle.

p. 59.

—If I can recover him and keep him tame, I will not take too much for him; he ſhall pay for him that hath him, and that ſoundly.

Too much, ſays mr. Steevens, means, any ſum, ever ſo much. But this can hardly be right. Stephano evidently propoſes to ſell his monſter for a good round price; which it would have been rather difficult for him to do, if he were deter⯑mined [6]not to take any ſum, ever ſo much, for it. He means that he could not rate his purchaſe too high:—Let me, ſays he, get ever ſo much for him, it ſhall not be more than enough.

p. 64.

Nor ſcrape trencher.

The old copy, mr. Steevens obſerves, reads trenchering: and one might naturally have expected a reaſon why this did not, as the word is, certainly, not ſo very improper. Houſing is one of the ſame kind. Rightly, trencheren, houſen; trenchers, houſes. The participle beholden is, by a ſimilar mistake, every where, in the old editions, beholding.

p. 74.

Lead monſter; we'll follow.—I would, I could ſee this laborer: he lays it on.

Wilt come? I'll follow, Stephano.

Is it not evident that the words Wilt come ſhould be the laſt of the preceding ſpeech?

p. 139.

Reſembleth, mr. Tyrwhitt ſays, is here uſed as a quadri⯑ſyllable, as if it was written reſembeleth. And in ſupport of this aſſertion he inſtances the two following lines: the one from the Comedy of Errors, the other from As you like it:

"And it ſhould be obſerved," continues he, "that Shake⯑ſpeare takes the ſame liberty with many other words, in [7]which l or r are [is] ſubjoined to another conſonant. See Com. of Errors: ‘"Theſe are the parents to theſe children."’

Mr. Steevens, in a note immediately preceding mr. Tyrwhitts, has obſerved, that when a word was not long enough to complete the meaſure, our early writers occaſio⯑nally extended it. Thus, ſays he, Spenſer in his Faery Queen: ‘"Formerly grounded, and faſt ſetteled."’ Again:

From this practice, he ſuppoſes, the author wrote reſem⯑beleth, which, though it affords no jingle, completes the verſe. "The old ballad of Titus Andronicus," adds he, "is written in this meaſure, where the ſecond and fourth lines only rhime." Whether this be a fact or not "let the foreſt judge." The ballad is printed by Percy, and begins thus: (the ſtanza being the ſame throughout:)

There is much greater and more important matter i [...] theſe obſervations than either of the ingenious commenta⯑tors was aware of. Neither Shakſpeare nor Spenſer ap⯑pears, from the above inſtances, at leaſt, to have taken the ſmalleſt liberty in extending his words: neither has the in⯑cident of l or r being ſubjoined to another conſonant any thing to do in the matter. But that great authors and great critics ſhould not be better acquainted with the orthography and grammatical ſtructure of their native tongue, is a circum⯑ſtance which, if not to be wondered at, is, ſurely, very much [8]to be regretted. The truth is, that every verb in the Engliſh lan⯑guage gains an additional ſyllable by its termination in eſt, eth, ed, ing, or (when formed into a ſubſtantive) in er: and the above words, when rightly printed, are not onely unexception⯑able, but moſt juſt. Thus, reſemble makes reſemble-eth; wrestle, wrestle-er; and ſettle, whistle, tickle, make ſettle-ed, whistle-ed; tickle-ed.

Semblance, indeed, cannot properly be written as three ſyllables; neither, perhaps, is it altogether neceſſary to pronounce it ſo. Childeren, however, would be certainly right.

Another inſtance of this ſort occurs in K. John: ‘That were embatteled and rank'd in Kent:’ which ſhould now be written embattleed; though the verb was, probably enough, in Shakſpeares time, uſually ſpelled embattel.

Again, in Butlers panegyric on ſir John Denham:

Here ſcribbling ſhould be printed ſcribbleing: the metre evidently requiring three ſyllables, which are neceſſaryly articulated in the pronunciation.

Theſe ideas, had they been more germane to the object of the preſent ſheets, or more likely to experience a favora⯑ble reception, might have been much expanded and further purſued; but, indeed, our orthographical ſystem is ſo tho⯑roughly corrupted, and the principles and formation of the language are, even by thoſe who have profeſsedly treated the ſubject ², ſo little investigated or underſtood, that a writer, hardy enough to attempt a reform, will naturally expect to find many of his cleareſt axioms conſidered as the offſpring of ſingularity, affectation, and caprice.

p. 149.

—I am the dog:—no, the dog is himſelf, and I am the dog,—oh, the dog is me, and I am myſelf; ay, ſo, ſo.

This paſſage, dr. Johnſon very gravely remarks, is much confuſed, and of confuſion, ſays he, the preſent reading makes no end. There is not, however, the leaſt room for altera⯑tion; Shakſpeare has evidently intended to make honeſt Launce puzzle and confound hisſelf in the arrangement of his dramatis perſonae; and, it ſhould ſeem, he has tolerably well ſucceeded.

A ſimilar thought, mr. Steevens obſerves, occurs in a play of an elder date than this: A Chriſtian turn'd Turk, 1612. The Two Gentlemen of Verona is mentioned by Meres in 1598; and, in the opinion of mr. Malone, "bears ſtrong internal marks of an early compoſition." He therefor refers it to the year 1593. Surely then the play quoted by mr. Steevens can hardly be ſuppoſed to be of an elder date.

Ibi.

Now come I to my mother;—oh that ſhe could ſpeak now like a wood woman!

Mr. Steevens was not certain that he underſtood this paſ⯑ſage; and, indeed, the contrary does not appear by his expla⯑nation of it. Now, ſays Launce, I come to my mother (i. e. to the old ſhoe with the hole in it, which he has juſt told us was to repreſent her); oh, that ſhe (i. e. the old ſhoe) could now ſpeak like a wood woman! that is, like a woman craz'd, mad, out of her ſenſes, with grief for my departure. And where's the difficulty of this?

p. 159.

Is it mine eye or Valentino's praiſe.

The word eye was ſupplyed by dr. Warburton, who ſays that in ALL the old editions, we find the line printed thus: ‘It is mine, or Valentino's praiſe.’

[10] But this, to uſe his own "warm language ³," is a lye. ‘The line is ſo printed in NO old edition.’

The firſt folio reads: ‘It is mine or Valentines praiſe.’

The ſecond: ‘Is it mine then or Valentineans praiſe?’

There is no quarto.

p. 165.

p. 187.

That is, ſays dr. Johnſon, reverend, worſhipful, ſuch as magiſtrates, &c. Sir John Hawkins propoſes lawful, which mr. Steevens and mr. Tyrwhitt ſeem half-inclined to admit. But awful men is certainly right; and means men well⯑governed, obſervant of law and authority; full of, or ſubject to awe. In the ſame kind of ſenſe as we uſe fearful.

p. 188.

Niece mr. Theobald altered to near: as the poet he thought, "would never have expreſsed himſelf ſo ſtupidly, as to tell us, this lady was the duke's niece and allied to him." And, indeed, if he had done ſo, the remark and alteration might have been juſt: but he does not ſay ſhe was the dukes niece, any more than he does that ſhe was his [11]heir. She was the niece and heir of ſome body elſe, and a distant relation of the duke.

p. 194.

Dr. Johnſon ſays that this is hardly ſenſe. He might have ſaid more. It is nonſenſe. We might, he thinks, read thus: ‘But ſince you're falſe, it ſhall become you well.’

Mr. Tyrwhitt, however, will have no alteration: he ſup⯑poſes the word it to be underſtood: i. e. But, ſince your falſehood, it ſhall become you well, &c. Or, that To worſhip ſhadows, &c. is the nominative caſe to ſhall be⯑come.

How far any of theſe oppoſite conjectures would rectify or elucidate the text, it is not now propoſed to examine, as the omiſſion of a ſingle comma will reſtore ſenſe to the whole paſſage.

I am very loth, ſays Silvia, to be your idol; but, ſince your falſehood to your friend and mistreſs ſhall well be⯑come you to worſhip ſhadows and adore falſe ſhapes (i. e. will be properly employed in ſo doing), ſend to me, and you ſhall have my picture.

Ibi.

p. 199.

It ſeems you lov'd not her to leave her taken.

Protheus, ſays dr. Johnſon, does not properly leave his ladys token, he gives it away: he, therefor, propoſes a [12]different reading. But what puerile quibbling this is! To leave is to quit, abandon, forſake, part with, &c. To leave her taken, is, properly, to give it away.

p. 230.

Two Edward ſhovel-boards, that coſt me two ſhillings and two-pence a-piece.

"Edward ſhovel-boards," dr. Farmer thinks, "were the broad ſ [...]illings of Edw. VI." But why Edward the Sixths ſhillings for the ſhovel boards of Henry the Fourths time? Can it be imagined, that theſe ſhillings, in Shakſpeares time, not fifty years after their coinage, and when they were in com⯑mon circulation, could be poſſibly ever ſold for two and two-pence? It may likewiſe be doubted, if Edward the Sixths ſhillings ever were, or, indeed, could be, uſed at ſho [...]el board, as they appear much too light for that diverſion. M [...]ster Slenders "Edward ſhovel-boards" have undoubtedly been broad ſhillings of Edward the Third.

Ibi.

I combat challenge of this latten bilbo.

One could well wiſh that the greater part of the long notes on this paſſage had been omitted. Latten is certainly tin. But whether the alluſion be to Slenders ſoftneſs, rather than to his thinneſs, is not quite ſo clear.

p. 244.

Hold, firrah, bear you theſe letters tightly.

This is nonſenſe. The quarto and ſecond folio read rightly, for which tightly, the reading of the firſt folio, is onely a misprint.

p. 248.

No, forſooth: he hath but a little wee face.

Wee, ſays mr. Steevens, in the northern dialect, ſigni⯑fies very little. But, though he is ſo near the true meaning, he hints that on the authority of the quarto, 1619, we might be led to read whey face. Little wee, however, is certainly the right reading; it implies ſomething extremely diminutive; and is a very common vulgar idiom in the North. Wee, alone, has only the ſignification of little. Thus Cleveland: ‘A Yorkſhire wee bit, longer than a mile.’ The proverb is, A mile and a wee bit; i. e. about a league and a half.

p. 250.

We ſhall all be ſhent.

i. e. (according to Mr. Steevens) ſcolded, roughly treated. The word has, indeed, a variety of ſignifications in old au⯑thors, and theſe are two of them; but, in modern lan⯑guage, mrs. Quicklys exclamation would have been:—We ſhall be all murder'd, ruin'd, undone!

p. 261.

Hope is a curtail'd dog in ſome affairs.

The tail, ſays dr. Johnſon, is counted neceſſary to the agility of a grey-hound; and one method, he obſerves, of disqualifying a dog, according to the foreſt-laws, is [was] to cut his tail, and make him a curtail. A curtail-dog, adds mr. Steevens, was the dog of an unqualifyed perſon, whoſe tail, by the laws of the foreſt, was cut off.

But it does not appear that there either is, or could be any ſuch regulation in the Foreſt-laws; as greyhounds, which alone would be disqualifyed by excauditation, could never have been the objects of laws made ſolely for the pre⯑ſervation of the kings deer. By thoſe modern foreſt-laws, however, the acts of parliament for the preſervation (i. e. deſtruction) of the Game, as expounded by that learned and reſpectable body ycleped Juſtices of the Peace; an unqua⯑lifyed perſon is allowed to keep a curtailed greyhound, without incurring the penalties of the aforeſaid ſtatutes, in which it is difficult to ſay whether Juſtice or Humanity be moſt apparent. A curtail dog, ſimply, is one of that inferior ſpecies of thoſe animals, now called curs, from the prevailing uſage of cutting their tails. A piece of wanton barbarity which (though, by no means, ſingular, even in this country) can onely be perpetrated by unfeeling wretches who ſeem to enjoy no more reaſon than is juſt ſufficient to plunge them into a more degraded and brutal ſtate than that of the poor animal they ſo inhumanly mangle.

p. 279.

But Mrs. Page would deſire you to ſend her your little page, of all loves.

This, which, mr. Steevens thinks, ſignifies no more than by all means, is an expreſſion of kindneſs, and an earneſt de⯑ſire [15]that the perſon would comply with the requeſt out of affection and regard.

p. 310.

—I ſee what thou wert, if Fortune thy foe were not.

He alludes to a very old, and formerly very popular ſong, beginning: ‘Fortune, my foe, why doſt thou frown on me?’

It is, more than once, mentioned by Beaumont and Fletcher, and from a paſſage in The Rump or Mirrour of the Times, an old comedy by John Tatham, it ſhould ſeem to have been a common dance tune; which may ſerve to ſhew that the old dances were much more grave and ſolemn than thoſe now in uſe, the tune being a very ſlow movement; as the reader will immediately recollect when he is informed that it is the identical air, now known by the ſong of Death and the Lady, to which the metrical lamentations of extraordinary criminals have been uſually chanted for upwards of theſe two hundred years.

p. 335.

—It is my maids aunt of Brentford

A witch, a quean &c.—ſhe works by charms &c.

Concerning ſome old woman of Brentford, ſays mr. Steevens, there are ſeveral ballads; among the reſt, Julian of Brentfords laſt will and teſtament, 1599. The learned commentator has in this aſſertion, perhaps, been misled by the vague ex⯑preſſion of the ſtationers book. Iyl of breyntfords teſtament, to which he ſeems to allude, was written by Robert, and printed by William Copland, long before 1599. But this, the only publication, it is believed, concerning the above lady at preſent known, is certainly no ballad.

p. 347.

May I be ſo bold to ſay ſo, ſir?

Ay, ſir Tike; like who more bold.

"In the firſt edition the latter ſpeech ſtands: I Tike, who more holde.—And ſhould plainly be read here, Ay ſir Tike, &c. FARMER."

The word recommended by this ingenious critic is indeed inſerted; but, doubtleſs, by the printers overſight, the cor⯑rupt one, which it was intended to ſupplant, has been likewiſe continued.

p. 363.

—But, ſtay; I ſmell a man of middle earth.

Spirits, ſays dr. Johnſon, are ſuppoſed to inhabit the ethe⯑real regions, and fairies to dwell underground, men therefor are in a middle ſtation. Yes; but to make the explanation conſistent, we muſt ſuppoſe ſpirits to inhabit a higher earth, and fairies a lower; otherwiſe the ſtation of man cannot, with reſpect to them, be called middle earth. The truth is, that the phraſe, which is a very common one, ſignifies nei⯑ther more nor leſs than the earth, or world, from its imagi⯑nary ſituation in the midſt or middle of the Ptolemaic ſys⯑tem, and has not the leaſt reference to either ſpirits or fairies.

p. 16.

As this is the firſt clown who makes his appearance in the plays of our author, mr. Steevens thought it not amiſs, from a paſſage in Tarltons News out of Pur⯑gatory, [17]to point out one of the ancient dreſses appro⯑priated to the character. ‘— I ſaw one actired in ruſſet, with a buttoned cap on his head, a great bag by his ſide and a ſtrong bat in his hand; ſo artificially attired for a clowne, as I began to call Tarlton's wonted ſhape to re⯑membrance.’

This may, probably enough, have been the dreſs ap⯑propriated to ſuch a character as the clown or fool in As you like it, All's Well that Ends Well, Twelfth Night, and King Lear; but the clown of this play is a different perſonage, the tapſter to a bawdy-houſe, and reſembles the above cha⯑racter no more than Launce, Speed, Costard, or Launclot Gobbo, the note and quotation, therefor, which might had their uſe elſewhere, are here certainly misplaced.

p. 20.

This ſpeech, as mr. Steevens well obſerves, is too inde⯑licate to be ſpoken concerning Juliet, before her face; for ſhe appears to be brought in with the reſt, though ſhe has nothing to ſay. The clown points her out as they enter; and yet, from Claudios telling Lucio that he knows the lady, &c. one would think, he ſays, ſhe was not meant to have made her perſonal appearance upon the ſtage.

That Julietta enters at the ſame time with Claudio;— that ſhe is not preſent during his converſation with Lucio; —and that ſhe is afterwards in the custody of the pro⯑voſt;—are evident and certain. The little ſeeming impro⯑priety there is will be entirely removed by ſuppoſing, that, when Claudio ſtops to ſpeak to Lucio, the provoſts officers depart with Julietta.

p. 24.

It was fourteen years in all the editions prior to Theobald who made the alteration. The reaſon of which, he, in his note upon the place, ſays, will be obvious to him who recollects what the duke has ſaid in a foregoing ſcene. But the duke had not before uttered a ſyllable about the matter; he muſt therefor mean Claudio, who mentions

Theobald ſays, the author could not ſo disagree with him⯑ſelf; and that it is neceſſary to make the two accounts corre⯑ſpond. But there is no reaſon to charge the author with incon⯑ſistency, neither is it neceſſary that the two ſpeakers ſhould agree in their calculation. If it were, the dukes account ſhould moſt certainly be preferred, as he was doubtleſs much better acquainted with the exact time of the disuſe of thoſe laws than Claudio can be reaſonably ſup⯑poſed to have been. For, though he may not be too young a man to have a perfect recollection of the circumſtance, (and it ſhould rather appear he is) yet it muſt be obſerved that he is about to ſuffer by the revival of theſe very penalties, which, both his intereſt and inclination would naturally lead him to repreſent as much more obſolete than they ac⯑tually were. The old reading ſhould, in all events, be re⯑ſtored.

p. 28.

Sir, make me not your ſtory.

i. e. do not make a jeſt of me. Dr. Johnſon: do not by deceiving me, make me ſubject for a tale. Mr. Steevens: do [19]not divert yourſelf with me as you would with a ſtory, do not make me the ſubject of your drama.

p. 40.

Which is the wiſer here? Justice or iniquity?

Theſe, ſays dr. Johnſon, were, I ſuppoſe, two per⯑ſonages well known to the audience by their frequent ap⯑pearance in the old moralities. The words, therefor, con⯑tinues he, at that time produced a combination of ideas, which they have now loſt.

Justice or iniquity, i. e. the conſtable or the fool. Eſcalus calls the latter iniquity in alluſion to the old Vice, a neceſ⯑ſary character, it is ſaid, in the ancient moralities or dumb ſhews; and the Harlequin of the modern ſtage. Justice may have a ſimilar alluſion to his ſuppoſed antagoniſt, into whoſe hands, after a variety of eluſions, he was always made to fall.

p. 45.

Save your honour!

Stay yet awhile—[To Iſab.] you are welcome: what's your will?

It is not clear, dr. Johnſon thinks, why the provoſt is bidden to ſtay, nor when he goes out.

The entrance of Lucio and Iſabella ſhould not, perhaps, be made till after Angelos ſpeech to the provoſt, who had only announced a lady, and ſeems to be detained as a wit⯑neſs to the purity of the deputys converſation with her. His exit may be fixed with that of Lucio and Iſabella. He cannot remain longer, and there is no reaſon to think he departs before.

Stay yet a while.] The old copies, which dr. Johnſon pretends to have collated, read Stay a little while.

p. 51.

That is, ſays dr. Johnſon, new thoughts are ſtirring in my mind, new conceptions are hatched in my imagination. So, adds he, we ſay to brood over thought. But can this be right? Does not the deputy plainly mean, that her wis⯑dom raiſed his deſires?

p. 66.

Theſe maſks, in mr. Tyrwhitts opinion, mean the maſks of the audience; an indecorum, he thinks, of which Shakſpeare would hardly have been guilty to flatter a com⯑mon audience; he therefor concludes that the play may have been written to be acted at court.

The remark is ingenious, but not deciſive. It is hardly generous or candid to make the author abſurd, when his language or ſentiment will obviously bear a different and rational interpretation. The idea in Angelos ſpeech might be eaſyly communicated by the maſk which Iſabella held in her hand. And theſe black maſks will, in that caſe, onely be ſuch maſks as theſe, or this kind of maſks. Which doubtleſs is Shakſpeares meaning. Enſhield is certainly put by contraction for enſhielded, and not by corruption for in⯑ſhe [...]'d, as mr. Tyrwhitt would ſuppoſe.

p. 88.

—And here, by this, is your brother ſaved,—and the corrupt deputy ſealed.

To ſca [...]e is certainly to reach (as dr. Johnſon explains it), as well as to diſperſe or ſpread abroad, and hence its appli⯑cation [21]to a routed army, which is ſcattered over the field: further than this it ſeems nothing to the purpoſe of mr. Steevenses note. The dukes meaning appears to be, either, that Angelo would be over-reached, as a town is by the ſcalade; or, that his true character would be ſpread or lay'd open, ſo that his vileneſs would become evident. Dr. Warburtion thinks it is weighed; a meaning which dr. John⯑ſon affixes to the word in another place: ‘Scaling his preſent bearing with his paſt. Coriolanus.’

p. 89.

I will preſently go to St. Lukes; there at the moated grange reſides this Mariana.

A grange does not properly mean any ſolitary farm houſe, as mr. Steevens explains it. It implies ſome one particular houſe, immediately inferior in rank to a hall, ſituated at a ſmall distance from the town or village from which it takes its name; as Hornby-grange, Blackwell-grange; and is, in the neighbourhood, ſimply called the Grange. Originally, perhaps, theſe buildings were the lords granary or ſtore⯑houſe, and the reſidence of his chief bailiff. (Grange, Fr. Granagium, Lat.) This note may likewiſe ſerve to correct mr. Wartons misinterpretation of the word in vol. x. p. 436.

p. 100.

Double and treble admonition, and ſtill forfeit in the ſame kind? this would make Mercy ſwear, and play the tyrant.

Certainly right. We ſtill ſay to ſwear like an em⯑peror; and, from ſome old book, of which the writer unfortunately neglected to copy the title, he has noted, to ſwear like a tyrant. To ſwear like a termagant is quoted [22]elſewhere. Dr. Warburton would read mercy ſwerve, and dr. Farmer ſevere. A ſimilar paſſage occurs in As you like it.

p. 101.

The folio, as dr. Johnſon obſerves, reads, from the ſea. And this ſeems the more probable reading. For, without it could be proved, that the ſee was uſed by way of emi⯑nence and distinction for the papal court, one may be ſatis⯑fyed that Shakſpeare intended to repreſent the friar as having come from his Holyneſs to Vienna by ſea; and ſo, no doubt, Shakſpeare might imagine he did. If it were not from the mention, which occurs, of Poland and Ruſſia, one might ſuppoſe the Vienna of this play to be not the ca⯑pital of Auſtria, but rather Vienna (now Vienne) in Dau⯑phiné: which was anciently a city of great fame, go⯑verned by a duke.

p. 108.

That is, ſays dr. Johnſon, reports running counter to each other. But falſe and contrarious queſts, in this place, rather mean lying and contradictory meſſengers, with whom run volumes of report. An explanation which the line quoted by mr. Steevens will ſerve to confirm.

p. 111.

A bawd, Sir? fie upon him, he will discredit our mi [...]tery.

[23] "I think it juſt worth while to obſerve," ſays dr. Warburton, "that the word mystery, when uſed to ſignify a trade or manual profeſſion, ſhould be ſpelt [ſpelled] with an i, and not a y, becauſe it comes not from the Greek [...], but from the French mestier."

If it were worth the learned prelates while to make this obſervation, it may be worth the while of an inferior per⯑ſon to contradict it. For, ingenious as the distinction may ſeem, and implicitly as it has been adopted, there is not the ſmalleſt authority for it, unleſs the great critics dogma⯑tical aſſertion may be termed ſo. He doubtleſs thought that the word mystery was too ſublime and ſacred to be mixed with the profane and vulgar ideas of baſe mechanicals; and that ſuch vile objects as trades and manual profeſſions ought not to participate in the uſe of a name ſet apart for the inexpli⯑cable ſolemnities of Christianity. But the truth is, that the word, in its higheſt or loweſt acceptation, means no more or leſs than the ſecret or arcana of any CRAFT, civil or religious; in faith or in works; and whether we are talking of the mystery of the Bleſsed Trinity, or the mystery of the Barber-Surgeons, we mean one and the ſame word, from mystere, Fr. (of which mestier is only a corruption) myste⯑rium, Lat. [...], Gr. Mystery ſhould, therefor, be re⯑ſtored to the text; whence it was the more unwarrantably ejected, even according to the right reverend fathers hypo⯑theſis, as it there ſignifies neither trade nor manual profeſ⯑ſion.

p. 122.

—Maſter Forthright the tilter.

The old copy, ſays dr. Johnſon, reads Forthlight, but this he conjectured ſhould be Forthright, alluding to the line in which the thruſt is made. And, as he had it in [24]his power to alter the text,—ſo the text was altered. Forth⯑light may, nevertheleſs, be the true reading; certainly, it ſhould not have been ſo haſtyly displaced. It, probably enough, contains an alluſion to the fencers threat of making the light ſhine through his antagoniſt.

p. 123.

—What are you?

Your friends, fir; the hangman.

This ſhould be, either—your friend, ſir; the hangman; or —your friends, ſir; the hangmen.

p. 124.

The duke is wonderfully conſistent: not three lines be⯑low he calls the priſoner; ‘A creature unprepar'd, unmeet for death;’ and ſays, that

p. 130.

Though all the editors and commentators differ about the meaning of this paſſage, and even dr. Johnſon is not aſhamed to ſay that he has nothing to offer worth inſertion, yet, ſurely, there is no ſuch amazing difficulty in it. [25]mr. Upton, and mr. Upton onely, has given the true and apparent ſenſe. The following are his own words, which dr. Johnſon, as he did not underſtand the paſſage, and, conſequently, their value, has been pleaſed to muti⯑late: Were it not for her maiden modeſty, how might the lady proclaim my guilt? Yet (you'll ſay) ſhe has reaſon on her ſide, and that will make her dare to do it. I think not; for my au⯑thority is of ſuch weight, &c.

p. 170.

Thus, indeed, the old editions; but we ſhould certainly read life.

p. 199.

On conſulting the firſt folio, ſays mr. Steevens, I found the ſecond line had been lengthened out by the modern edi⯑tors, who read: ‘For ever hous'd where it once gets poſſeſſion.’ I have therefore, adds he, referred it to its former meaſure.

If this ingenious gentleman had conſulted the ſecond folio he might have perceived that the line had not been length⯑ened, nor, indeed, touched, by the modern editors.

p. 203.

Let love, being light be drowned if he ſink.

The old editions read ſhe. But "I know not," ſays mr. Steevens, "to whom the pronoun ſhe can be referred. I have made no ſcruple to remove a letter from it." It would not, however, have been amiſs, if the in⯑genious critic had been ſomewhat more ſcrupulous on the [26]occaſion: as there need be little doubt to whom the pronoun ſhe can be referred. i. e. to Love (Venus). Thus, in the old ballad of The Spaniſh Lady:

p. 218.

Band is here rightly preſerved, but it is pleaſant enough to mark the conſistency of the editors, who make a merit of reſtoring it from bond, which, they obſerve, is in the old editions, and was formerly ſpelled band. The word porpentine appears throughout all the old copies, and in many contemporary writers; but this they have moder⯑niſed to porcupine. The affirmative I, always uſed by Shak⯑ſpeare and others, has been likewiſe changed to ay, and fre⯑quently to the injury of both ſenſe and rime. A number of words in every play are in the ſame predicament. And even this identical word band is elſewhere turned into band. Happy Shakſpeare!

A band, Mr. Steevens obſerves, is likewiſe a neckcloth; and on this circumſtance, he believes, the humour of the paſſage turns. But the ingenious gentleman is un⯑der a double mistake. A band is not, nor ever was, a neck⯑cloth, though, certainly, an appendage to the neck. Nei⯑ther does the humour of the paſſage turn upon any ſuch al⯑luſion; for there would be very little humour in it, if it [27]did. Adriana means a written band, and Dromio quibbles upon a hempen one.

p. 223.

—Will you go with me? we'll mend our dinner here.

Maſter, if you do expect ſpoon-meat, or beſpeak a longer ſpoon.

Or, ſays Mr. Steevens, which modern editors have thrown out of the text, ſignifies before. But the paſſage is wrong pointed. And the or is a mistake for and. We ſhould read thus:

—We'll mend our dinner here

Maſter, if you do, expect ſpoon-meat, and beſpeak a long ſpoon.

Mr. Steevenses remark does not ſeem much to the purpoſe.

p. 233.

Shakſpeare, ſays dr. Warburton, could never make me⯑lancholy a male in one line, and a female in the next, he therefor boldly pronounces the line the fooliſh inſertion of the firſt editors; as if ſuch fools could write as well as Shak⯑ſpeare.

Mr. Heath, in his fancyful way, propoſes a different reading, while mr. Steevens is contented with ridiculing the preciſeneſs and affectation of master Capell.

But, after all, the text is very clear and intelligible, and certainly right. Kinsman means no more than near relation. Many words are uſed by Shakſpeare with much greater latitude.

p. 238.

Dr. Warburton would read ſcotch. But mr. Steevens defends the preſent reading (which is certainly the true one), and ſays that Antipholis would have puniſhed her as he had puniſhed the conjurer before. He had ſinged the con⯑jurers beard off: Mr. Steevens ſhould have informed us how he it was to puniſh his wife in the ſame manner.

p. 242.

Defeature, ſays dr. Johnſon, is the privation of feature. The meaning, adds he, is, time hath cancelled my features. It is no uncommon thing to find the author and his com⯑mentator of different opinions; What ſays Aegeon? Why that Time had written defeatures in his face, i. e. given them to him. As to the commentators theirſelves, it is ſo very rarely we meet them agreeing, that it is no wonder to find mr. Steevens explaining defeatures by un⯑doings, miscarriages, misfortunes, from defaire, Fr. So that the meaning, according to this ingenious gentleman, will be, Time hath written in my face ſtrange undoings. But defeatures are certainly neither more nor leſs than features; as demerits are neither more nor leſs than merits. Time, ſays Aegeon, hath placed new and ſtrange features in my face;—i. e. given it quite a different appearance; [...]no wonder therefor thou do'ſt not know me.

Ibi.

In the two old folios the paſſage ſtands, and rightly, thus:

I is here—not the adverb, but—the perſonal pronoun.

One great excellence of modern commentators con⯑ſiſts in the art of discovering neglected puns. It is ſome wonder therefor that this of Dromio ſhould eſcape them. The reader will remember that Aegeon is actually in bonds.

p. 244.

Beſides her urging of her wreck at ſea.

This, mr. Steevens obſerves, is one of Shakſpeares over⯑ſights. The abbeſs has not ſo much as hinted at the ſhip⯑wreck. Perhaps, indeed, adds he, this and the next ſpeech ſhould change places.

That however would ſcarcely remove the difficulty: the next ſpeech is Aegeons. Both it and the following one ſhould precede the dukes; or there is, poſſibly, a line loſt.

p. 266.

—Let him him be clap'd on the ſhoulder, and call'd Adam.

"Adam Bell," ſays dr. Johnſon, "was a companion of Robin Hood, as may be ſeen in Robin Hoods garland; in which, if I do not mistake," adds he, "are theſe lines:

In anſwer to this it may be obſerved, 1. That Adam Bell was not a companion of Robin Hood; 2. That it can⯑not be ſeen in Robin Hoods garland; 3. That the lines quoted prove neither the one nor the other, as they do not relate to Robin Hood. It is peculiarly unfortunate that the leraned critic ſhould be moſt mistaken where he is moſt confident.

p. 271.

I had rather be a canker in a hedge; than a roſe in his grace.

A canker, dr. Johnſon tells, is the canker-roſe, dog-roſe, cyn [...]b [...]ſius, or hip. But the word canker ſhould rather ſeem to be uſed here, as it is in various other places, for the worm which preys upon flowers; a metamorphoſis ſuited to the ma [...]ignancy of the ſpeakers dispoſition.

Thus in the Two Gentlemen of Verona:

Again, in the ſame play:

"Mallet alias Malloch," in his beautyful ballad of Wil⯑liam and Margaret, has made a fine uſe of this idea.

It occurs likewiſe in the Midſummer Nights Dream: ‘Some to kill cankers in the muſk-roſe buds.’

Again, in the ſame play: ‘O me! you jugler! oh! you canker-bloſſom!’

Upon which mr. Steevens obſerves, that canker bloſſom is not, in this place, the bloſſom of the canker or wild-roſe, which our author alludes to in Much ado about Nothing, act I. ſc. vi. [the preſent text] but a worm that preys on the leaves or buds of flowers, always beginning in the middle." And the ingenious critic is certainly right in his expoſition of the words canker-bloſſom; but it may be ſafely affirmed that if they mean not the wild-roſe, canker, neither in the text, nor any where elſe, does.

We meet with it again in the Firſt Part of Hen. IV.

In this laſt paſſage it undoubtedy means what mr. Stee⯑vens explains it to be; the wild-roſe; which it does not in the following:

Hath not thy roſe a canker, Somerſet? 1 Hen. 6.

p. 293.

i. e. ſays dr. Grey, we'll be even with the fox now discovered.

So, adds he, the word kid, or kidde, ſignifies in Chaucer. [32]To which mr. Steevens does not diſſent; except by hinting that if any future editor ſhould chooſe to read hid ſox, he may obſerve that Hamlet has ſaid—"Hide fox and all after."

A kid fox ſeems to be no more than a young fox, or cub.

p. 329.

Go, good partner, get you to Francis Seacoal, bid him bring his pen and inkhorn, &c.—here's that ſhall drive ſome of them to a non-com.

Master Seacoals name, in act III. ſc. iii. is George. By non-com Dogberry means to ſay non-plus.

p. 345.

Maſters, it is proved already that you are little better than falſe knaves, and it will go near to be thought ſo ſhortly; how anſwer you for yourſelves?

Marry, ſir, we ſay, we are none.

A marvellous witty fellow, I aſſure you; but I will go about with him. Come hither, ſirrah; a word in your ear, ſir; I ſay to you, it is thought you are ſalſe knaves.

Sir, I ſay to you, we are none.

Well, ſtand aſide.—'Fore God they are both in a tale; —have you writ down they are none?

"This is an admirable ſtroke of humour: Dogberry ſays of the priſoners that they are falſe knaves, and from that denial of the charge, which one in his wits could not but be ſuppoſed to make, he infers a communication of counſels, and records it in his examination as an evidence of their guilt." SIR J. HAWKINS.

It is with infinite reluctance that the writer finds hisſelf obliged to differ in opinion from the learned magistrate, who, from his having ſo long and ſo ably preſided upon [33]ſimilar occaſions, muſt, no doubt, be perfectly acquainted with the nature of a judicial proceſs.

That there is infinite humour in the paſſage is very true; and that the ingenious commentator has not discovered it is equally ſo; the ſentiments and conduct of master Dogberry being the direct reverſe of what he ſuppoſes them to be. We clearly perceive that in this examination Dog⯑berry takes all the precaution poſſible to come at the truth; he charges them ſeverally with being falſe knaves; he takes the utmoſt care that they ſhall have no communication of counſels, in order to concert a joint defence, by onely whiſpering to one, what he had before aſked in the hearing of both; he is, therefore, aſtoniſhed to find them both in a tale, and directs it to be recorded, as a proof of their innocence,—that they are no knaves:—becauſe they had both told him ſo.

This is the more evident from the behaviour of the ſex⯑ton; who, in mr. Steevenses opinion, and he ſeems per⯑fectly right, ſhews as much good ſenſe on the occaſion as any judge upon the bench could do, and who immediately tells Dogberry, that he goes not the way to examine, and that he muſt call the watch, &c.

If the learned annotator will amend his comment, by omitting the word guilt, and inſerting the word innocence, it will (except as to the ſuppoſed inference of a communica⯑tion of counſels which ſhould be likewiſe omitted or cor⯑rected) be a juſt and pertinent remark.

p. 349.

By the two full pages of note-work upon this paſſage there ſhould ſeem to be ſome difficulty in it. Be it what it will, however, it is left juſt as it was found. Every [34]editor and commentator has offered his proper lection, and therefor here's a new one to increaſe the number. ‘And, ſorrow waggery, hem when he ſhould groan.’ i. e. ſorrow becoming waggery; or, converting ſorrow into waggery, hem, &c.

Surely this is at leaſt as good as—hallow wag, ſorrow wage, ſorrow gagge, ſorrowing, ſorry wag, &c. or even as the preſent text. The old editions uniſormly read, ‘And ſorrow, wagge, crie hem, &c. when he ſhould groan.’

p. 366.

—why, an hour in clamour, &c.

i. e. ſays biſhop Warburton, "what a queſtion's there, or what a fooliſh queſtion you aſk." The learned prelate, one may eaſyly ſuppoſe, would not have heſitated to call a fine lady fool to her face: Benedick, it is to be hoped, had rather more politeneſs. The phraſe occurs fre⯑quently in Shakſpeare, and means no more than—you aſk a queſtion, or that is the queſtion.

p. 367.

Knight does not mean either follower or pupil, as dr. Johnſon ſays it does. The lady being a virgin, and her name Hero, ſhe is metonymically called one of Dianas knights; and what occaſion was there for a note upon this?

p. 387.

The manner of it is, he was taken with the manner.

In what manner.

In manner and form following.

Dr. Warburtons note certainly proves the neceſſity of reading in the manner. With the manner, though undoubtedly the law phraſe and often made uſe of, is mere nonſenſe.

p. 391.

Why, ſadneſs is one and the ſelf-ſame thing, dear imp.

This is ſpoken to his boy or page. Dr. Johnſon ob⯑ſerves that Imp was anciently a term of dignity. Lord Crom⯑well, he ſays, in his laſt letter to Hen. VIII. prays for the imp his ſon. And what does that prove? The word literally means a graff, ſlip, ſcion or ſucker: and, by metonymy, comes to be uſed for a boy or child. The imp his ſon is no more than his infant ſon. It is now ſet apart to ſignify young fiends; as, "the devil and his imps."

p. 397.

Fair weather after you.

Come, Jaquenetta away.

"Maid. Fair weather after you. Come Jaquenetta away.] Thus all the printed copies: but the editors have been guilty of much inadvertence. They make Jaquenetta and a maid enter; whereas Jaquenetta is the onely maid intended by the poet, and is committed to....Dull, to be conveyed....to the lodge in the park. This being the caſe, it is evi⯑dent to demonſtration, that—Fair weather after you—muſt be ſpoken by Jaquenetta; and then that Dull ſays to her, [36] Come, Jaquenetta, away, as I have regulated the text. THEOBALD."

Mr. Theobald has endeavoured here to dignify his own industry by a very ſlight performance. The folios ALL read as he reads, except that inſtead of naming the per⯑ſons they give their characters, enter Clown, Conſtable, and Wench. JOHNSON."

There was no great occaſion for this evidence to prove the laſt learned commentator very little acquainted with the editions of which he ſpeaks with ſo much fami⯑liarity and confidence. The aſſertion in the note is un⯑true: NONE of the folios read as Theobald does: in the firſt of them the paſſage ſtands thus:

Fair weather after you!

[i. e Clown, Costard, not Conſtable.] Come Jaque⯑e tta away.

In the ſecond and ſubſequent folios, thus:

Mr. Theobald does not appear to have inſpected the firſt folio: dr. Johnſon has, evidently, looked neither into that nor into any of the reſt.

p. 417.

My ſweet ounce of man's fleſh! my incony Jew!

Incony or kony, as dr. Warbarton ſays, in the North, ſignifies fine, delicate, as a kony thing, a fine thing. He would therefor read my incony jewel. But the truth is, that there is no ſuch expreſſion in the North as either kony. or incony. The word canny, which the people there uſe, and from which dr. Warburtons mistake may have ariſen, bears a variety of ſignifications, none of which is fine, de⯑licate, [37]or applicable to a thing of value. Dr. Johnſons quotation by no means proves Jew to have been a word of endearment.

p. 444.

—Trip and go, my ſweet.

Theſe words are certainly part of an old popular ſong. There is an ancient muſical medley beginning Trip and go, hey!

p. 457.

The paſſage is certainly worth quoting, but one may venture to doubt whether the poetical reader will eaſyly pardon the inſertion of it in the inaccurate and corrupted ſtate in which the learned critic has been pleaſed to give it. For let us read what ſir Henry hisſelf ſays?

p. 503.

Pageant of the Nine Worthies.] This ſort of proceſſion was the uſual recreation of our ancestors at Chriſtmas, and other festive ſeaſons. Such things, being chiefly plotted and compoſed by ignorant people, were ſeldom com⯑mitted to writing, at leaſt with the view of preſervation, and are, of courſe, rarely discovered in the reſearches of even the moſt industrious antiquaries. And it is cer⯑tain that nothing of the kind (except the ſpeeches in this ſcene, which were intended to burleſque them) ever ap⯑peared in print. The curious reader will not, therefor, be displeaſed to ſee a genuine ſpecimen of the poetry and manner of this rude and ancient drama from an original manuſcript of Edward the Fourths time. (MSS. Tanner. 407.)

In another part of the ſame MS. are preſerved different ſpeeches, for three of theſe worthies, which have moſt pro⯑bably, belonged to a distinct pageant.

Sometimes, it ſhould ſeem, that theſe things were in a more dramatic form (i. e. dialogue-wiſe); and, indeed, it is here that we muſt look for the true Origin of the Engliſh ſtage. Behold a champion, who gives a univerſal defiance: (MSS. Harl. 1197. very old.)

[40]The challenge is inſtantly accepted:

Here would neceſſaryly enſue a combat with the back⯑ſword or cudgel, to the great entertainment, as well as in⯑ſtruction of the applauding croud. Poſſibly it ſerved to conclude the pageant inſtead of an epilogue, and not impro⯑perly. Such exhibitions, however rude and ſimple they may appear to the more refined taſte of the preſent age, were admirably adapted to that warlike and manly ſpirit in our uncultivated ancestors, which procured them the glories of conqueſt abroad, and the bleſsings of ſieedom at home.

p. 480.

"The ſettling commerce in Ruſſia was, at that time, a matter that much ingroſsed the concern and converſation of the publick. There had been ſeveral embaſſies employed thither on that occaſion; and ſeveral tracts of the manners and ſtate of that nation written: ſo that a maſk of Mus⯑covites was as good an entertainment to the audience of that time, as a coronation has been ſince. WARBURTON."

All this may be very true, but the learned commentator might have discovered that a maſk of Muscovites was no un⯑common recreation at court long before our authors time. In the firſt year of king Henry the eighth, at a banquet made for the foreign ambaſſadors in the parliament chamber at Weſtminſter, "came the lorde Henry, Erle of W [...]ltſhire, [41]and the lorde Fitzwater, in twoo long gounes of yelowe ſatin, trauarſed with white ſatin, and in euery ben of white, was a bend of crimoſen ſatin after the ſaſhiō of Ruſſia or Ruſlande, with furred hattes of grey on their hedes, either of them hauyng an hatchet in their handes, and bootes with pykes turned vp." Hall. Hen. VIII. fo. 6, b. This extract may ſerve to convey an idea of the dreſs uſed, upon the preſent occaſion, by the king and his lords, at the per⯑formance of the play.

p. 523.

Dr. Warburtons note upon the old Romances.] The learned prelate has received ſuch a complete dreſsing, from the hand of a master, in the Supplement, that there is neither occaſion nor opportunity for any further remark. At the foot of this page, however, there is a note, by the celebrated dr. Percy, which ſeems to deſerve ſome little attention; and the more ſo, as it is countenanced by the very ingenious gentleman alluded to, who has either not been aware of its fallacy, or, from private motives, forborn to expoſe it.

Dr. Warburton," ſays this redoubted critic, "is quite mis⯑taken in deriving Oliver from (Palmerin de) Oliva, which is utterly incompatible with the genius of the Spaniſh lan⯑guage." So that, from his thus recurring to etymology, he clearly appears to be not a whit better acquainted with the history than dr. Warburton was. "The old ro⯑mance," continues he, "of which Oliver was the hero, is entitled in Spaniſh, "Historias de los nobles Cavalleros Oliveros de Caſtilla, y Artus de Algarbe, in fol. en Va⯑lladolid, 1501, in fol. en Sevilla, 1507;" and in French thus, "Hiſtoire d'Olivier de Castille, & Aitus d'Algarbe ſon loyal compagnon, & de Heleine, Fille au Roy d'An⯑gleterre, [42]&c. tranſlatée du Latin, par Phil. Camus, in fol. Gothique."

From ſo much ſeeming knowlege, from the annotators great credit, and from his very confident aſſertions, who would be foreward to ſuſpect his ignorance, or doubt his veracity? But it is even ſo; he knows no more of the history which he quotes with ſo much parade, than biſhop Warburton knew of Amadis or Palmerin; with either of which the ſtory of Oliver the Paladin has juſt as much con⯑nection as it has with the history of Oliver of Castile and Arthur of Algarbe. With reſpect to the above French and Spaniſh titles, they are literally tranſcribed from Freſnoy. And ſo much for dr. Percys acquaintance with old ro⯑mances.

p. 26.

Change [...]ing, ſays dr. Johnſon, is commonly uſed for the child ſuppoſed to be left by the fairies, but here for the child taken away.

And it is here properly uſed, and in its common accepta⯑tion; that is, for the child got in exchange. Dr. Johnſon will recollect that a Fairy is now ſpeaking.

p. 30.

[43] Aunt, mr. Steevens ſays, is a procureſs, and the wiſeſt aunt, adds he, may mean the moſt ſentimental bawd.

But this conjecture is much too wanton, and injurious to the word aunt, which, in this place at leaſt, certainly means no other than an innocent old woman.

p. 35.

The human mortals want their winter here.

Shakſpeare, ſays mr. Steevens, might have employed this epithet (human mortals), which, at firſt, appears re⯑dundant, to mark the difference between men and ſairies. Fairies, adds he, were not human, but they were yet ſub⯑ject to mortality. This however does not by any means appear to have been the caſe. Oberon, Titania, and Puck never dye; the inferior agents muſt neceſſaryly be ſuppoſed to enjoy the ſame privilege; and the ingenious commentator may rely upon it, that the oldeſt woman in England never heard of the death of a Fairy. Human mor⯑tals is, notwithſtanding, evidently put in oppoſition to Fairies, who partook of a middle nature between men and ſpirits. Puck in a ſubſequent ſcene ſays, ‘Lord, what fools theſe mortals be.’

p. 68.

Minnock, dr. Johnſon ſays, is the reading of the old quarto, and, he believes, right. Minnekin, adds he, now [44] minx, is a nice trifling girl! The folio, according to mr. Steevens, reads mimmick; perhaps for mimick, a word more familiar than that exhibited by one of the 4tos, for the other reads minnick. After all minnock, mimmick, and minnick, are onely, perhaps, misprints for mommock, which comes nearly to the ſame letters, and ſignifies a huge misſhapen thing; and is very properly applyed by a Fairy to a clumſy over-grown clown. Minnekin is evidently a cor⯑ruption of mannekin or manikin, properly mankin ⁴, a little man. Dr. Johnſon is ſo very imperfectly acquainted with the nature and derivation of the Engliſh language (and, in that reſpect, his dictionary, how valuable ſoever it may be on account of the explanation and uſe of Eng⯑liſh words, is beneath contempt; there being ſcarcely⯑ten words properly deduced in the whole work), that it is no wonder to find him making minnekin and minx the ſame word. But minnekin does not mean a nice trifling girl: and, though a ſubſtantive, is oftener uſed adjectively, than otherwiſe: ſo in Midas (not John Lylies): "My mi⯑nikin miſs ⁵." The ſmalleſt ſized pins are likewiſe called minnekin or minikin pins. So Jerry Sneak, citizen and pin-maker, in the Mayor of Garrat:—"as if I had been ſeeking for one of my own minikins ⁶." As mankin got changed into minnekin, a little man, ſo they formed minne⯑kineſs a little woman, a girl; which has ſince, by corrup⯑tion, become minx. Thus Laddeſs (Ladeſs), from Lad, has, by a ſimilar progreſs, become Laſs.

p. 69.

And at our ſtamp here o'er and o'er one falls.

Dr. Johnſon labours hard to prove this to be a vicious reading: "Fairies, ſays he, are never repreſented ſtamp⯑ing, [45]or of a ſize that ſhould give force to a ſtamp, nor could they have distinguiſhed the ſtamps of ſuch from thoſe of their own companions." He, therefor, reads: ‘And at a ſtump here o'er and o'er one falls.’

To prove, however, that Fairies could ſtamp, mr. Stee⯑vens produces a paſſage from Olaus Wormius. He need not have gone ſo much out of his way: honeſt Reginald Scot could have informed him, that our "grandams maides were woont to ſet a boll of milke before 'Incubus' and his couſine Robin good-fellow, for grinding of malt or muſtard, and ſweeping the houſe at midnight: and....that he would chaſe exceedingly, if the maid or good-wife of the houſe, hauing compaſſion of his nakednes, laid anie clothes for him, beeſides his meſſe of white bread and milke, which was his ſtanding ſee. For in that caſe he faith; What haue we here? Hemton hamten, here will I neuer more tread nor ſtampen." Discouerie of witchcraſt. 1584. p. 85.

p. 70.

"An alluſion to the proverb, over ſhoes, over boots. JOHN⯑SON."

"Excellent i'faith! Why this is the beſt fooling after all!"

p. 78.

All the old editions, it ſeems, read needles. But mr. Steevens has altered it to neelds, as, he ſays, "it was proba⯑bly written by Shakſpeare."

[46] The learned critic has made the ſame innovation in another place, and quoted this very paſſage, as genuine, to justify the change: and yet, where the word candleſticks was a ſyllable too much, and the old editions read canſticks, which rendered the meaſure perfect, and was ſupported by the authority of many ancient authors, he has continued candleſticks in the text!

It may be remarked that this exclamation is peculiar to Puck. In the old ſong, printed by Peck, in which he re⯑lates all his gambols, he concludes every verſe with Ho, ho, ho! He here forgets his aſſumed character.

p. 100.

Inſtead of jewel, dr. Warburton would read gemel, a twin; which dr. Johnſon calls an ingenious emendation that de⯑ſerves to be true. But dr. Warburton is in evident confu⯑ſion about the paſſage. He makes Helena compare her lover to ſomething which had the property of appearing one thing when it was another: not the property ſure, he cries, of a jewel! In reality, however, Helena makes no ſuch compari⯑ſon, and the learned critic wilfully misſtates her words to, found his ingenious emendation (as every fooliſh and im⯑pertinent propoſal is, by the courteſy of editors, intitled): She ſays that ſhe has found Demetrius, as a perſon finds a jewel, or thing of great value, in which his property is ſo precarious as to make it uncertain whether it belongs to him or not.

p. 101.

—I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream: —and I will ſing it in the latter end of a play, before the duke: Peradventure, to make it the more gracious, I ſhall ſing it at her death.

Inſtead of a play, we ſhould certainly read the play (i. e. that which they were about to perform). At her death is very judiciously corrected by mr. Theobald to after death; and ſo ſhould have been here printed.

p. 105.

— Call Philoſtrate.

In the folio, 1623, ſays mr. Steevens, it is—Call Egeus, and all the ſpeeches ſpoken by Philoſtrate, are there given to that character. If the ingenious commentator will take the trouble to look into either folio, at the ſpeech be⯑ginning,

he will find that all the ſpeeches here ſpoken by Philoſtrate are not there given to Egeus.

p. 107. n.

Mr. Steevens is, certainly, mistaken in aſſigning Spen⯑ſers death to Dublin. He dyed in King-ſtreet, Weſtminſter, and was buryed in Weſtminſter-abbey.

p. 110.

Enter Pyramus and Thisbe, &c. There is an old pam⯑phlet, containing the history of this amourous pair, in lamentable verſe, by one Dunſtan Gale, which appears to have been printed in 1596; and may, not improbably, befound the but of Shakſpeares ridicule in ſome parts of this interlude.

p. 116.

The folio reads:

This (i. e. A lion fell), ſays mr. Steevens, not agree⯑ing with the remainder of the ſpeech, the modern editors have altered it into—no lion fell. Had they, continues he, conſulted the quarto, 1600, it would have ſet them right.

A reading which this ingenious gentleman has accord⯑ingly adopted. It is, nevertheleſs, certainly wrong, and that of the folio is certainly right.

At the rehearſal of the play, leſt "the ladies ſhould be afear'd of the lion," being, as Bottom obſerves, "the moſt fearful wild fowl living," it was ſettled, that there ſhould be a prologue to tell, that Snug, who was to perform this terrible part, was not a lion; his name was, likewiſe, to be named, and half his face ſeen through the lions neck; through which he was, moreover, to ſpeak, "ſaying thus, or to this defect,—Ladies, &c. If you think I come hither as a lion, it were pity of my life: no, I am no ſuch thing; I am a man as other men are:"—and there, indeed, he was "to name his name; and tell them plainly he 'was' Snug the joiner." This prologue he is now delivering; but the paſſage muſt be read and pointed thus; the ſenſe and mean⯑ing being ſtrangely misconceived and misrepreſented by the preſent editors:

[49] That is, I am neither lion nor lioneſs, I am Snug the joiner. The text makes him declare that he is a lion, or comes as a lion, which is utterly inconſiſtent with the reſt of his ſpeech; defeats the very end and deſign of his prologue; and would have been enough ("God ſhield us!") to ſcare the ladies out of their wits. The uſe of the ſing [...]e negative with a double aſpect is common with our author and other ancient writers. Thus Fletcher, in his animated apoſtrophe to the memory of Spenſer:

The concluſion is, that "the modern editors," who read no, were perfectly right, in point of conſtruction, though the alteration was unneceſſary and improper.

Ibi.

He dares not go there [i. e. into the lantern] for you ſee it is already in ſnuff.

Snuff, ſays dr. Johnſon, ſignifies both the cinder of a Gandle, and haſty anger.

So, in a Voyage to the Weſtern Islands:

"The hedges near Montroſe are of ſtone.

So, likewiſe, in a note upon the Firſt part of Hen. IV.

"The cuckows chickeu."

p. 149.

Uſe and uſance, mr. Steevens ſays, are both words anci⯑ently employed for uſury. And, to justify the explanation, he quotes the two following paſſages from an old play:

But, after all, is he not mistaken? Uſe and uſance mean nothing more than intereſt. And the former word is ſtill uſed by country people in the ſame ſenſe. His own authorities prove this to be the ancient meaning. Give me my intereſt, give me my principal. The main (i. e. the principal) five hundred pounds, and the uſe fifty; i. e. intereſt at ten per cent, the legal rate in Shakſpeares time: when, perhaps, the word uſury itsſelf had a much more innocent meaning than has been ſince annexed to it. In the old ſong of Neptunes raging fury, or the gallant ſeamans ſufferings, it ſignifies onely a ſcrivener:

p. 150.

[51] The quartos (mr. Steevens ſays) read—a breed of—the folio—a breed for,—The ingenious commentator has not, it ſeems, paid his uſual attention to the folios,—both which aſſuredly read of.

p. 159.

I am Launcelot, your boy that was, your ſon that is, and your child that ſhall be.

The distinction between boy and ſon, dr. Johnſon ſagaciously remarks, is obvious, but child, adds he, ſeems to have had ſome meaning which is now loſt. Mr. Stee⯑vens ſuppoſes that, by your child that ſhall be, he means that his duty to his father ſhould in future ſhew him to be his child. There is not the leaſt difficulty in the paſſage. Launcelot is talking nonſenſe, or, as the vulgar have it, putting the cart before the horſe; but whether deſignedly or not is left to the contemplation of the critics. He means, however, to ſay, I was your child, I am your boy, and ſhall ever be your ſon.

p. 167.

"The word [gormandize] is very ancient, and took its riſe from a Daniſh king. The Danes, towards the latter end of the ninth century, were defeated by king Alfred at Edendon in Wiltſhire; and as an article of peace, Guth⯑rum their king, commonly called Gurmond, ſubmitted to be baptized, king Alfred being his godfather, who gave him the name of Athelſtan, and took him for his adopted [52]ſon. During the ſtay of the Danes in Wiltſhire, "they conſumed their time in profuſeneſs, and belly-cheer, in idleneſs and ſloth. Inſomuch, that as from their lazineſs in general, we, e [...]en to this day, call them Lur-Danes; ſo from the licentiousneſs of Gurmond, and his army in par⯑ticular, we brand all luxuricus and profuſe people, by the name of Gurmondizers." And this luxury, and this lazi⯑neſs, are the ſole monuments, the only memorials by which the Danes have made themſelves notorious to pos⯑terity, by being encamped in Wiltſhire. Vide, A Vindi⯑cation of Stone-Heng reſtored, by John Webb, eſq. p. 227. [...]n Jonſon in his Sejanus, act. I.

After ſuch a pompous display of learning, ſo ſtrangely in⯑troduced into the margin of Shakſpeare, how will this mr. G. (who has certainly ſhewed, if not judgement, at leaſt prudence, in concealing his name) be ſurpriſed to hear that there is not a ſingle j [...]t either of ſenſe or of truth from the beginning to the end of his laborious diſſertation! Gour⯑mand, a glutton, and Gourmandiſe, glutro [...]y, whence Jon⯑ [...]ons Gourmond, and our gormandize are immediately taken, are common French words to be found in every dictio⯑nary; a [...]d Lurdane, properly l [...]urden, is derived from lourdin, or fal [...]urdin, a word of the ſame ſignification, in the ſame language, equally common. Either Gourmond or Lurdane, therefor, has no more (poſſibly, much leſs) connection with the ancient Danes, than it has with this ſame mr. G. the ſtructor of the above ingenious, but, alas! too eaſyly demoliſhed fabric,

p. 183.

Where is my lady?

Here; what would my lord?

[53] "Would not this ſpeech to the ſervant be more proper in the mouth of Neriſſa? TYRWHITT."

No; very impertinent, in the preſence of her lady.

p. 293.

I would it might prove the end of his loſſes!

Let me ſay amen betimes, leſt the devil croſs thy prayer.

All the old copies read my prayer; but, ſays Warburton, the prayer was Salanios. The other onely, as clerk, ſays amen to it; he therefor changed it to thy prayer. The old reading, however, may be very right: Is not amen a prayer?

p. 207.

I could not do with all.

"For the ſenſe of the word do in this place, ſee a note on Meaſure for Meaſure, act I. COLLINS."

The converſation of even the higheſt ranks, was not, perhaps, in Shakſpeares time, over and above remarkable for its delicacy. But does the (real) commentator believe that a lady of Portias good ſenſe, high ſtation, and elegant manners, could ſpeak (or even think) ſo groſsly? It is im⯑poſſible!

This obſervation, and others of the like nature, from the ſame hand, are, however, as the reader will perceive, ſtrictly within the canon.

"He (i. e. the profeſsed critic) may find out a bawdy, or immoral meaning in his author, where there does not appear to be any hint that way." Canon XII.

p. 214.

The reading of all the old editions is;

Which is, ſurely, defenſible, though our candid editors have not been pleaſed to notice it. The meaning is that ſome men when they hear the ſound of a bagpipe are ſo affected therewith that they cannot retain their urine. For thoſe things which are masters over paſſion, make it like or loath whatever they will.

If ſways be objected to, it may be eaſyly altered to ſway. But there are above fifty inſtances in Shakſpeare, where a verb of the ſingular number is made to agree with a noun of the plural.

p. 216.

Why he a woollen bagpipe.

It is not unuſual to ſee the large ſkin or bladder of a bagpipe covered with flannel; and, it is poſſible that Shak⯑ſpeare onely uſed the word as a deſcriptive epithet.

Dr. Johnſon ſuppoſes he wrote wooden;—ſir John Haw⯑kins ſwelling or ſwollen. But any meaning is preferable to ſuch arbitrary violations of the text.

p. 228.

Shylock, there's thrice thy money offer'd thee.

Where, or by whom, is any ſuch offer made? Baſ⯑ſanio, indeed, in anſwer to Portias question, if Anthonio were not able to discharge the money, ſays, [55]

But nobody offers thrice the money. Either Portia mistook Baſſanios propoſal, or this is one of thoſe inaccuracies of the text which are now irremediable.

p. 228.

The terms propoſed, ſays dr. Johnſon, have been misun⯑derſtood. Anthonio declares, that as the duke quits one half of the forfeiture, he is likewiſe content to abate his claim, and deſires not the property but the uſe or pro⯑duce only of the half, and that only for the Jews life, un⯑leſs we read, as perhaps is right, upon my death.

How others have misunderſtood Anthonios terms, does not by this edition appear, and it might be policy in dr. Johnſon to ſuppreſs the account, for it is very clear that they are not underſtood by HIM. Anthonio tells the duke, that, if he will abate the fine for the ſtates half, he (An⯑thonio) will be contented to take the other, in truſt, after Shylocks death, to render it to his daughters husband. That is, it was, during Shylocks life, to remain at intereſt in An⯑thonios hands, and Shylock was to enjoy the produce of it. The preſent reading is perfectly right, clear, and intelligible. [56]And theſe trifling mistakes might teach even the greateſt critic ſome little diffidence upon ſimilar occaſions.

p. 234.

Tell him there's a poſt come from my maſter, with his horn full of good news; my master will be here ere morning, ſweet ſoul.

Let's in, and there expect his coming.

Theſe two words, mr. Tyrwhitt obſerves, ſhould cer⯑tainly be taken from the end of Launcelots ſpeech, and placed at the begining of the following ſpeech of Lorenzo. An excellent and happy remark. No alteration was ever more neceſſary, or more obvious. The two ſyllables thus misplaced, and which are utterly abſurd and inſenſible as they ſtand, are juſt wanting to make up the metre of the firſt line of Lorenzos ſpeech. The emendation is therefor unpardonably neglected.

p. 256.

P. 111. The Merchant of Venice.]—"A ballad is ſtill re⯑maining on the ſubject of Romeo and Juliet, which by the date appears to be much older than Shakſpeares time. It is remarkable that all the particulars in which that play dif⯑fers from the ſtory in Bandello, are found in this ballad."

Where is this ſame ballad to be found? Or who ever ſaw it? The information is—MR. WARTONS!

p. 263.

Orlando. As I remember, Adam, it was on this faſhion be⯑queathed me: by will, but a poor thouſand ducats; and as thou fa [...]'ſt, charged my brother, on his bleſsing, to breed me well.

[57] Dr. Warburton would ſubſtitute my fath [...]r in the place of faſhion. Dr. Johnſon allows that the nominative my father is left out, but ſays it is ſo left out that the auditor inſerts it in ſpite of himſelf. An auditors underſtanding the intent of a ſpeech will not, however, ſupply the defects of its grammatical conſtruction. There is no neceſſity for omitt⯑ing the word faſhion, but either my father, or (which is perhaps much better) the pronoun he ſhould be inſerted be⯑tween faſhion and bequeathed. The paſſage ought, therefor, to be read and pointed thus: As I remember, Adam, it was on this faſhion he bequeathed me, by will, but a poor thouſand ducats, &c. The reader will perceive that it is onely the ſequel of a converſation which has commenced before the play.

p. 274.

What colour, madam? how ſhall I anſwer you?

As wit and fortune will.

Or as the destinies decree.

Well ſaid, that was laid on with a trowel.

Laid on with a trowel, dr. Johnſon ſuppoſes to mean, "too heavy a maſs of big words, laid upon a ſlight ſub⯑ject." But mr. Steevens will have it to be a "proverbial expreſſion, generally uſed to ſignify a glaring falſhood." The doctor is not right, and the gentleman palpably wrong. It means a good round hit, thrown in without judgement or deſign. So, in Tony Lumpkin in Town, 1780.

p. 270.

Yet he's gentle;—of all ſorts enchantingly beloved.

Sorts, in this place, means ranks and degrees of men.

p. 336.

Well, I am not fair; and therefore I pray the gods make me honeſt.

Truly, and to caſt honesty away upon a foul ſlut, were to put meat into an unclean diſh.

I am not a ſlut, though I thank the gods for my foulneſs.

Well, praiſed be the gods for thy foulneſs, ſluttiſhneſs may come hereafter.

By foul, ſays Hanmer, is meant coy or frowning. Mr. Tyrwhitt rather believes it to be the rustic pronunciation of full, as if ſhe thanked the gods for a belly-full.

Audrey ſays ſhe is not fair (i. e. handſome), and therefor prays the gods to make her honeſt. The clown tells her that to caſt honesty away upon a foul ſlut (i. e. an ill favoured, dirty crecture) is to put meat in an unclean diſh. She replies, ſhe is no ſlut (no dirty drab), though, in her great ſimplicity, ſhe thanks the gods for her ſoulneſs (homely⯑neſs); i. e. for being as ſhe is. Well, adds he, praiſed be the gods for thy foulneſs, ſluttiſhneſs may come hereafter. Where can be the difficulty?

p. 361.

How ſay you now? Is it not paſt two o'clock, and here's much Orlando.

Thus, ſays mr. Steevens, the old copy. The modern editors, adds he, read, but without the leaſt authority: ‘I wonder much, Orlando is not here.’

This is ſenſe, however, which the old and preſent read⯑ing is not, though there was no neceſſity for ſo great an [...]teration to make it ſo. One might propoſe the follow⯑ing: ‘Is it not paſt two o'clock? and here's no Orlando.’

p. 378.

We found our quarrel was upon the ſeventh cauſe.

So, ſays dr. Johnſon, all the copies; but it is apparent, adds he, from the ſequel, that we muſt read, the quarrel was not upon the ſeventh cauſe.

The propriety of this remark is very doubtfull. Jaques, a few ſpeeches after, aſks the clown, How he and his anta⯑goniſt found the quarrel was upon the ſeventh cauſe. The clown ſays, upon a lye ſeven times remov'd; and thus ex⯑plains it: 1. His dislike of the courtiers beard. 2. The courtiers retort courteous. 3. The quip modeſt. 4. The re⯑ply churliſh. 5. The reproof valiant. 6. The countercheek quarrelſome. 7. The lye circumſtantial. This may indeed be called the ſeventh cauſe, but it certainly is not a lye, ſe⯑ven times removed. Touchſtone is rather inaccurate in his calculations, but dr. Johnſons propoſal ſeems inadmiſſible. After all, it is not eaſy to conceive, how either the lye cir⯑cumſtantial, or the lye direct could be a greater affront than the countercheck quarrelſome, which was ſimply thus:— YOU LYE!

p. 409.

Am not I Christopher Sly, old Slys ſon of Burton-heath; Aſk Marian Hacket the fat ale-wife of Wincot, if ſhe know me not, &c.

Mr. Steevens ſuſpects that we ſhould read Barton-heath. Barton and Woodmancot, vulgarly Woncot, being both in Glousterſhire, near the reſidence of Justice Shallow. (The ingenious obſerver might have recollected William Viſor [60]of Wonc [...]t.) But the matter is fully cleared up by the cele⯑brated mr. Warton, who poſitively aſſures us, that Wilne⯑cotte is a village in Warwickſhire, with which Shakſpeare was well acquainted, near Stratford. That the houſe kept by our genial ho [...]ieſs, ſtill remains, but is at preſent a mill. A ſtranger to the chronology of mr. Wartons life would be apt to conclude, from this ſatisfactory information, that Shakſpeare and he had had many a merry meeting over a cup of our genial hoſteſses Warwickſhire ale; or how ſhould he ſuppoſe him to have come by ſuch a perfect knowlege of the houſe, our authors intimate acquaintance with it, and the character of its mistreſs? Burton Dorſet is a village in Warwickſhire.

p. 421.

Sweet Bianca!—Happy man be his dole!

A proverbial expreſſion, mr. Steevens tells us, Dole being any thing dealt out or distributed. But what ſort of an explanation is this? The meaning is, let his portion or lot in life be that of a happy man.

p. 426.

Surely the editors are ſufficiently acquainted with Italian to know that this name ſhould have been here printed Pe⯑tru [...]is. Or do they intend it to be pronounced Petroukio?

p. 436.

"This [laſt] ſpeech, in the old copy, is given to Tranio. STEEVENS."

[61] A mistake: both folios give it to Biondello; and make Tranio anſwer him thus:—Even he Biondello. The text, however, ſeems properly corrected.

p. 438.

O excellent motion! fellows let's be gone.

Gru. (Grumio) is here, perhaps by a misprint, put for Gre. (Gremio.)

p. 469.

The firſt folio, as mr. Tyrwhitt obſerves, reads; ‘But, ſir, love, &c.’

Which he thinks ſhould be thus corrected: ‘But, ſir, to her love, &c.’

This, however, is ſcarce grammar or even common ſenſe. The word her is alone ſufficient, and is, moſt likely, Shakſpeares own.

p. 483.

Pet. Where is the life that late I led —

A ſcrap of ſome old ballad. Ancient Pistol elſewhere quotes the ſame line. In an old black letter book intitled A gorgious Gallery of gallant Inuentions. Lon. 1578. 4to. is a ſong To the Tune of Where is the life that late I led.

p. 507.

And what of all this?

I cannot tell; expect they are buſied about a counterfeit aſſurance, &c.

[62] "I can make no ſenſe of expect. I rather believe this paſſage ſhould be read thus:—I cannot tell; except thus much; they are buſied, &c. TYRWHITT."

The ſecond folio confirms the propriety of this judicious emendation. The editors are perfectly inexcuſable for their negligence in not conſulting the old copies.

p. 50.

As fit as Tibs ruſh for Toms forefinger.

It behoveth me here to remark that this abridged nomi⯑native, Tib, is, not as the great muſical knight opineth, a contraction of Tabitha, but is the diminutive of Iſabel. Moreover, the forefinger is not, as master Tollet conceiveth, the thumb, but that finger which is uſually placed next or neareſt thereunto. Meſeemeth, likewiſe, that our author hath here one of thoſe covert alluſions, divers of which my ſingular good friend M. Collins and myſelf have hereto⯑fore noted, and ſhall, Deo juvante, perſever to remark in our future lucubrations. AMNER.

p. 102.

If I ſhould ſwear by Joves great attributes.

"In the print of the old folio, it is doubtful whether it be Jove's or Love's, the characters being not distinguiſh⯑able. JOHNSON."

It is no wonder that the learned critic ſhould not have been able to distinguiſh between an 1 and an l, where he could not perceive the variation of whole words, and even [63]lines and ſpeeches. No one beſide hisſelf, however, could poſſibly have had a doubt about the matter, the two cha⯑racters being as clearly different in the old editions as they are any where elſe.

But this is not the onely inſtance in which the ingenious commentator could not determine whether the word were love or Jove. He is at the ſame loſs in Troilus and Creſſida, (x. 87.) where the l is equally conſpicuous.

p. 127.

O madam, yonder's my lord your ſon with a patch of velvet on's face; whether there be a ſcar under it, or no, the velvet knows, &c.

A fear nobly got,—is a good livery of honour.

The old editions give the latter ſpeech to Lafeu; from whom it has been taken without either acknowlegement or neceſſity.

p. 160.

My lady takes great exceptions to your ill hours.

Why, let her except before excepted.

This, ſays dr. Farmer, ſhould probably be, as before ex⯑cepted: a ludicrous uſe of the formal law-phraſe. But the ingenious critic mìght have ſpared his remark, the formal law-phraſe being more uſually as in the text.

p. 185.

[64] "Sure, ſays mr. Steevens, has been added to complete the verſe." It is very true: it was added by Shakſpeare.

p. 188.

— a ſtoop of wine.

i. e. a cup. So in Othello.

"Come lieutenant, I have a ſtoop of wine. STEEVENS.

Compare the following paſſage, and note (Hamlet, x. 4.)

King. Set me the ſtoups of wine upon the table.

"A ſtoup is a flaggon or bowl. STEEVENS."

This explanation may be right: Cup is certainly wrong.

p. 210.

My purpoſe is, indeed, a horſe of that colour.

And your horſe now would make him an aſs.

I doubt not.

Mr. Tyrwh [...]tt thinks that the conceit given to ſir Andrew, ſhews too quick an apprehenſion for him. He would there⯑for transfer it to ſir Toby. But does the ingenious critic imagine it probable that Maria would call ſir Toby an aſs?

p. 216.

Marry hang thee, brock.

A brock is certainly a badger; but Malvolio is not ſo called becauſe he is likely to be hunted and perſecuted like that animal (which, by the way, is never hunted). Neither is to badger a man, a phraſe for making a fool of him. Sir Toby uſes the word as a term of contempt, as if he had ſaid, hang thee, cur!—Out filth! to ſtink like a brock, be⯑ing proverbial. To badger a man is to be perpetually plague⯑ing him: the badger, from that ſpirit of humanity ſo pre⯑valent in the Engliſh vulgar, being always baited to death.

p. 211.

—How now my nettle of India.

The old copy, mr. Steevens ſays, reads—mettle of India, which, he thinks, is probably the true reading. The change, he tells us, was made by mr. Rowe.

Nettle, however, as the learned commentator ought to have known, is the reading of the ſecond folio, and is indisputably right.

p. 231.

Challenge me the counts youth to fight with him.

This, mr. Tyrwhitt pronounces to be nonſenſe: he would have us read,—challenge me the counts youth; go, fight with him. But if any alteration be neceſſary, it ſhould be thus:—Challenge me the counts youth to fight with you. The text, however, is neither nonſenſical, nor difficult.

p. 247.

Why man he's a very devil; I have not ſeen ſuch a virago.

The word virago is certainly inapplicable to a man, a blustering hectoring fellow, as Sir Toby means to repre⯑ſent Viola; for he cannot poſſibly entertain any ſuſpicion of her ſex: but it is no otherwiſe ſo, than Rounceval is to a woman, meaning a terrible fighting blade; from Ronceval, or Roncesvalles, the famous ſcene of that fabulous combat with the Saracens,

p. 249.

Nay if you be an undertaker, I am for you.

This, mr. Tyrwhitt believes a touch upon the times, in al⯑luſion to certain perſons who in the reign of king James [66]the firſt, undertook to carry all the government meaſures ſmoothly through parliament. But what has Antonio ſaid or done that Sir Toby ſhould take him for a buſy member of the houſe of commons? He onely means to tell him that if he be an undertaker of, or intermeddler in other peoples quar⯑rels, he (Sir Toby) is ready to take him up.

p. 261.

What ſay you, ſir? I am ſhent for ſpeaking to you.

Shent, i. e. rated, ſcolded, abuſed. The two inſtances adduced by mr. Steevens give it a meaning quite foreign to the text.

p. 240.

Ay, biddy, come with me.

This ſeems to be a ſcrap of ſome old ſong, and ſhould be printed as ſuch. Did the editors underſtand it, that they have given us no annotation upon it? Biddy is the dimi⯑nutive of Bridget.

p. 241.

— we will.....crown thee for a finder of madmen.

Dr. Johnſon thinks this phraſe an alluſion to witch-finders. But mr. Steevens pronounces it, a ſatire on thoſe coroners who ſo often bring in ſelf-murder, lunacy, to which title, he ſays, many other offences have to the full as juſt pre⯑tenſions. The obſervation is, however, ſcarcely pertinent, as it is not the officer, but the inqueſt that makes the return. And, perhaps, while ſuch inhuman, ſuch diabolical laws as the brutality of the moſt barbarous ages has annexed to the commiſſion of the above act, continue to disgrace the judicial ſystem of this country, even perjury itsſelf becomes a [67]virtue. Finders of madmen are thoſe who formerly acted under the writ De Lunatico inquirendo.

p. 246.

— meddle you muſt, that's certain.

Meddle, mr. Steevens explains, mix; but it means to interfere, have to do with, concern ones ſelf, &c. as before explained.

p. 267.

The bells of St. Bennet.

What neceſſity is there for accuſing Shakſpeare of any impropriety in this place. There muſt have been churches in Illyria, and how does dr. Johnſon know that none of them was dedicated to St. Bennet?

p. 278.

i. e. ſays dr. Warburton, a frenzy that drew me away from every thing but its own object. But mr. Malone, ever ſtudious to preſerve his authors text, till ſome example is produced of the word being uſed in the above ſenſe, ſhould wiſh to read distracting, which he very mo⯑deſtly conjectures to have been the original word. If dr. Warburton had conſidered his explanation a ſingle moment, he would undoubtedly have given it right, i. e. a frenzy that drew every object but one out of my memory.

Ibid.

An your ladyſhip will have it [i. e. Malvolios letter] as it ought to be, you muſt allow vox.

[68] "I am by no means certain," ſays mr. Steevens, "that I underſtand this paſſage." The learned editors diffidence muſt, therefor, apologiſe for his having mistaken it: the meaning is, nevertheleſs, very ſimple.

If your ladyſhip, ſays the Clown, will have this letter read as it ſhould be, you muſt allow me the full and proper uſe of my voice. She had juſt checked him for bawling too loud, which he tells her is the right method of reading a madmans letter.

p. 305.

Meſs, ſays dr. Johnſon, is a contraction of master, as Meſs John, master John; an appellation uſed by the Scots, to thoſe who have taken their academical degree. Lower meſses, therefor, adds he, are graduates of a lower form. Mr. Steevens, however, believes that lower meſses is onely uſed to ſignify the loweſt [lower] degrees about the court. A conjecture in which he ſeems to be as right, as dr. Johnſon is certainly wrong: the word meſs, as Meſs John, neither being any contraction of master, nor having the remoteſt alluſion to academical degrees. It is merely the Scotiſh pronunciation of Maſs, and is only applyed, in vulgar lan⯑guage, to the prieſt or minister.

p. 311.

I have lov'd thee —

Make that thy question, and go rot.

[69] Nothing can be more obvious than that the words here put into the mouth of Camillo really belong to Leontes, whom he neither does nor could addreſs with ſo much fami⯑liarity. But we are under no neceſſity to agree with mr. Tyrwhitt that they would come in more properly after rot. If the meaſure be thought to need emendation, it would be leſs violence to adopt that propoſed by mr. Theobald.

p. 326.

"This," ſays dr. Johnſon, "is mr. Theobalds correc⯑tion; the former editions read ſans five."

If the critic mean to ſay onely that ſome editions prior to Theobalds read ſans, the aſſertion may probably be true; but if his note imply that Theobald firſt introduced the word ſome, nothing can be leſs ſo: it is the reading of the firſt folio, and the ſecond does not read ſans.

The ſpeaker tells us that one of his daughters was eleven, the ſecond nine, and the third about five.

p. 345.

"It is apparent," dr. Johnſon ſays, "that according to the proper, at leaſt according to the preſent uſe of words, leſs ſhould be more, or wanted ſhould be had."

It is a pity that the learned critic ſhould not better un⯑derſtand the language upon which he profeſses to com⯑ment. There is not the ſlighteſt difficulty or impropriety in the paſſage. I never heard, ſays Leontes, that any of [70]theſe greater offenders wanted (i. e. were deficient in) leſs impudence to deny their crime than to commit it. You, therefor, he means to tell the queen, who have had ſuffi⯑cient impudence to do what I charge you with, can be at no loſs for impudence to deny it.

p. 375.

In what way? We ſhould certainly read (in the margin at leaſt): ‘Nor any way ſo chaſte.’

p. 381.

For whom or what? This is ſheer nonſenſe. And dr. Johnſon, by giving the line to Polixenes, rather increaſes the abſu [...]dity than leſsens it. We ſhould, doubtleſs, read thus: ‘I'll ſwear for one.’

i. e. I will anſwer or engage for myſelf. Some altera⯑tion is abſolutely neceſſary. This ſeems the eaſyeſt; and the reply will then be perfectly becoming her character.

p. 394.

Leave your prating, ſince theſe good men are pleaſ'd, let them come in.

O father, you'll know more of that hereafter.

This, ſays dr. Warburton, is replied by the king in an⯑ſwer to the ſhepherds ſaying ſince theſe good men are pleaſed.

This is very unlikely. The dance, which has intervened, would take up too much time to preſerve any connection between the two ſpeeches. The line ſpoken by the king ſeems to be in reply to ſome unexpreſsed question from the old ſhepherd, and ſhould not be uttered aſide.

p. 473.

The prince of Cumberland!—

The crown of Scotland, mr. Steevens obſerves, was originally not hereditary. When a ſucceſſor was declared in the life time of a king, (as was often the caſe) the title of prince of Cumberland was immediately beſtowed on him as the mark of his deſignation.

The propriety of this note is not very apparent.

The crown of Scotland had been hereditary for ages before Duncan,—nay, from the very foundation of the Scotiſh monarchy. The apparent or preſumptive heir was always the known and declared ſucceſſor; as in England and every other hereditary government. The kings eldeſt ſon, or grandſon (i. e. the heir apparent for the time being) alone was prince of Cumberland, as the king of Englands is prince of [72]Wales; or the king of France's, the Dauphin. And it ſhould ſeem, from the play, that Malcolm was the firſt who had this title.

p. 505.

Whoever was the author of this emendation, as it is called) (for mr. Sheridan has likewiſe taken the credit of it, Lectures on Elocution. 4to. p. 65.); it ſeems to have been adopted with too much haſte, and without either neceſſity or advantage. The old reading is much more in the man⯑ner of Shakſpeare, and of courſe more likely to be the true one: eſpecially if we read ſea.

p. 523.

"Though I would not often aſſume the critics privi⯑lege of being confident where certainty cannot be obtained, nor indulge myſelf too far in departing from the eſtabliſhed reading; yet I cannot but propoſe the rejection of this paſ⯑ſage, which I believe was an inſertion of ſome player, that having ſo much learning as to discover to what Shak⯑ſpeare alluded, was not willing that his audience ſhould be leſs knowing than himſelf, and has therefore weakened the [73]authours ſenſe, by the intruſion of a remote and uſeleſs image into a ſpeech burſting from a man wholly poſſeſsed with his own preſent condition, and therefore not at leiſure to explain his alluſions to himſelf. If theſe words are taken away, by which not only the thought but the numbers are injured, the lines of Shakeſpeare cloſe together without any traces of a break.

This note, dr. Johnſon tells us, was written before he was fully acquainted with Shakſpeares manner, and he does not now think it of ſo much weight: why did he then reprint it? becauſe the words which he once thought interpolated by the players, he now thinks to have been interpolated by the author. But there never was ſurely ſuch a number of words waſted to ſuch an idle purpoſe. Whether Mac⯑beth would have made uſe of the image is not the question: the words are as evidently Shakſpeares as any others in the play. And where was the neceſſity of ſo much learning to discover the alluſion? The idea was perſectly familiar to him. He got it from the old translation of Plutarch, and has particularly dwelled upon it in Ant [...]ny and Cleopatra, act II. ſcene iii.

p. 531.

The old copy, according to mr. Steevens, reads: ‘Whom we to gain our peace have ſent to peace.’

The change, he ſays, was made by mr. Rowe. It is, however, the reading of the ſecond folio.

p. 532.

The ſhard-born beetle is, perhaps, the beetle born among ſhards, i. e. (not cows-dung, for that is only a ſecondary or metonymical ſignification of the word, and not even ſo, generally, but) pieces of broken pots, tiles, and ſuch like things which are frequently thrown together in corners as rubbiſh, and under which theſe beetles may uſually breed, or (what is all the ſame) may have been ſuppoſed to do ſo.

Thus, in Hamlet, the prieſt ſays, of Ophelia, ‘Shards, flints, and pebbles, ſhould be thrown on her.’

Would mr. Tollet ſay that cows-dung was to be thrown into the grave? The ſpelling of born can have no weight any way. It is true, however, that ſharded beetle ſeems ſcarcely reconcilable to the above explanation. Mr. Stee⯑vens may be right, but dr. Warburton and mr. Tollet, are certainly wrong.

p. 535.

But who bid thee join with us?

Macbeth.

He needs not our mistruſt; ſince he delivers

The meaning of this abrupt dialogue, dr. Johnſon ob⯑ſerves, is this: the perfect ſpy, mentioned by Macbeth in the foregoing ſcene, has, before they enter upon the ſtage, given them the directions which were promiſed at the time of their agreement; yet one of the murderers ſuborned, [75]ſuſpects him of intending to betray them; the other ob⯑ſerves, that, by his exact knowledge of what they were to do, he appears to be employed by Macbeth, and needs not be mistruſted. A comment which there are ſew beſides the learned author that would not have been aſhamed to re⯑peat.

In the preceding ſcene, Macbeth ſays to the two firſt murderers.

i. e. the very time when you are to look out for him. But dr. Johnſon has changed it to ‘A perfect ſpy o'the time,’ and ſeems too conſident or too careleſs to perceive the ab⯑ſurdity he introduces. For, if Macbeth had made the two firſt murderers acquainted with this perfect ſpy of dr. John⯑ſon, and they had received their directions from him, how could the firſt murderer poſſibly aſk him who bid him join them?—O, but, ſays the learned critic, he ſuſpects him of an intention to betray them. Betray them! To whom? To Banquo? To be ſure they had wonderful cauſe to be afraid of one whom the king hisſelf had appointed them to kill!—The fact plainly is, that this additional or ſupernumerary villain is ſent from Mac⯑beth, by way of reinforcement, after the others had taken their ſtand. He has told them that he was acquainted with the deſign, but one of them, being unwilling, it ſhould ſeem, to admit a third to participate in the reward, and therefor deſirous to ſhuffle him off, very naturally aſks, who bid him join them.

p. 575.

His (i. e. Macbeths) title is affeer'd, i. e. eſtabliſhed or affirmed, ſince he whoſe duty and intereſt it is to en⯑deavour to dethrone him refuſes to join in the attempt. This kind of exclamation ſeems natural to Macduff; for, a little after, when Malcolm ſtriyes to comfort him on the ſlaughter of his wiſe and children, he breaks forth in the ſame manner: ‘He ⁸ has no children!—all my pretty ones!’

p. 581.

"It muſt be owned," ſays dr. Warburton, "that Shak⯑ſpeare is often guilty of ſome ſtrange abſurdities in point of history and chronology: yet here he has artfully avoided one. He had a mind to hint, that the cure of the evil was to deſcend to the ſucceſſors in the royal line in compliment to James the firſt. But the Conſeſſor was the firſt who pre⯑tended to the gift: how then could it be at that time ge⯑nerally ſpoken of, that the gift was hereditary? this he has ſolved by telling us that Edward had the gift of prophecy along with it."

[77] "The ingenious editor of the Houſhold Book of the Fifth Earle of Northumberland, dr. Percy," adds mr. Steevens, "very acutely obſerves on the ſubject of cramp rings, "that the miraculous gift of curing the evil was left to be claimed by the Stuarts; our ancient Plantagenets were humbly con⯑tent to cure the cramp."

There may be a vaſt fund of acuteneſs, but there is not a tittle of truth or knowlege in this ingenious obſervation. It is ſo well known that not onely the Tudor family, but their predeceſſors, for many ages, exerciſed this real or imaginary power, that, in the reign of queen Elizabeth, who touched often, as any old history, and many other books, will inform us, one William Tooker, a learned divine, pub⯑liſhed a laborious Latin treatiſe upon the ſubject, in which he enumerates a number of cures performed by that princeſs, and others of our ancient Engliſh monarchs ⁹. With re⯑ſpect to dr. Warburton, one would be glad to know, how he became ſo certain that Edward the Confeſſor was the firſt who pretended to this gift. Shakſpeare may be ſometimes chargeable with great abſurdities, but he rarely, if ever, commits ſuch a one as his over⯑learned commentator would here force upon him. If Edward the Conſeſſor had been the firſt Engliſh monarch poſſeſsed of this hereditary faculty, it muſt neceſſaryly have dyed with him, for he not onely was a uſurper, but left no iſſue. So that king James neither did, nor poſſibly could either claim or get it from him. And his real titles were too [78]good, and he was too well acquainted with them, to per⯑mit him to accept ſuch a compliment; even if Shakſpeare in⯑tended it, which he, undoubtedly, did not.

p. 583.

The folio, it ſeems, read latch, which appears to be the proper word, and certainly ſignifies catch. Thus in Piers Plowman, ſo. 26.

As mr. Steevens elſewhere tells us, that he made it his buſyneſs to reſtore ancient readings, one might naturally have expected to ſee latch in the text.

p. 592.

"It appears," ſays mr. Steevens, in a note upon this paſ⯑ſage, "from dr. Johnſons Journey to the Weſtern Islands of Scotland, that the natives had neither kail nor brogues, till they were taught the arts of planting the one, and making the other, by the ſoldiers of Cromwell; and yet," adds he, ‘king James VI. thought it neceſſary to form an act againſt ſuperfluous banquetting.’

It is a pity that the ingenious commentator has omitted the very candid and liberal inference which the great tra⯑veler draws from the above circumſtance of the kail, i. e. that, "when they had not that, they had nothing."

But under the favour of this ingenious critic, it does not appear:—dr. Johnſon, indeed, is pleaſed to ſay ſo, and they who would have believed him if he had given a rela⯑tion [79]of his voyage into the moon, may, if they chooſe, believe this. It is very ſeldom that we find people teach⯑ing to others arts of which they are ignorant theirſelves, and yet this muſt have been the caſe with Cromwells ſol⯑diers; who were accustomed neither to eat kail, nor to wear brogues. The truth is, that both articles have, in all probability, been known to the Scotiſh ever ſince the country was inhabited. So that they may ſafely admit the truth of the above very candid travelers good-natured poſi⯑tion.

Mr. Steevens ſeems to think it altogether needleſs to re⯑ſtrain luxury in diet, where people could get neither kail nor brogues; which, to be ſure, are the very eſſence of a ſump⯑tuous feaſt.

p. 596.

Stuff'd, mr. Steevens tell us, is the reading of the old copy; but, for the ſake of the ear, which muſt be ſhocked by the recurrence of ſo harſh a ſound, he is willing to read foul; foul is accordingly read. And ſuch is the method taken to preſerve the authors genuine text. Alas! poor Shakſpeare.

p. 5.

"This ſimile," dr. Johnſon obſerves, "does not ſuit well: the lightning indeed," adds he, "appears before the thunder is heard, but the lightning is deſtructive, and the thunder innocent." The alluſion may, notwithſtanding, be very proper ſo far as Shakſpeare has applyed it, i. e. merely to the ſwiftneſs of the lightening, and its preceding and foretelling the thunder. But there is ſome reaſon to believe that thunder was not thought to be innocent in our authors time, as we, elſewhere, learn from hisſelf. Thus in King Lear:

Again, in Antheny and Cleopatra: ‘Some innocents ſcape not the thunderbolt.’

Again, in Julius Caeſar:

And ſtill more deciſively in Meaſure for Meaſure:

[81] This old ſuperſtition is ſtill prevalent in many parts of the country.

p. 30.

Surely this ſhould be Beldam, a word frequently uſed in this play.

p. 56.

It does not appear that Conſtance hereby means to call Auſtria fool, as ſir John Hawkins would have it; but ſhe certainly means to call him coward, and to tell him that a calfs ſkin would ſuit his recreant limbs better than a lions. They ſtill ſay of a dastardly perſon that he is a calf-hearted fellow, and a runaway ſchool-boy is uſually called a great calf.

p. 64.

For this nonſenſe the reader is indebted to dr. Johnſons emendation; the old copies have it thus: ‘Is not amiſs when it is truly done.’ Which dr. Warburton calls the concluſion de travers: he therefor reads: ‘Is yet amiſs.’ Sir Thomas Hanmer:—moſt amiſs.

[82] But all theſe objections to, and propoſed alterations of the old reading, ariſe entirely from its not being under⯑ſtood. If the reader will conſider the paſſage a moment, he will perceive that it has ſenſe and meaning,—is quite in the ſpirit of the cardinals quibbling logic,—and infinitely ſuperior to any of theſe pretended emendations. Pandulf, having conjured the king to perform his firſt vow to hea⯑ven,—to be champion of the church,—tells him, that what he has ſince ſworn is ſworn againſt hisſelf, and therefor may not be performed by him: for that, ſays he, which you have ſworn to do amiſs, is not amiſs (i. e. becomes right) when it is done truely (that is, as he explains it, not done at all); and being not done, where it would be a ſin to do it, the truth is moſt done when you do it not.

So, in Loves Labour Loſt: ‘It is religion to be thus forſworn.’

There is no difficulty in this, but what the over buſy critic chooſes to make.

"It is ſtrange that, when the ſenſe is ſo clear, any commentator ſhould thus laboriously obſcure it, to intro⯑duce a new reading; and yet ſtranger that he ſhould ſhew ſuch confidence in his emendation as to inſert it in the text. JOHNSON."

The learned critic ſeems to think hisſelf intitled to an excluſive privilege of corrupting the authors lan⯑guage ⁹

p. 70.

The curſe by bell, book, and candle, is the ſolemn anathema pronounced by the prieſt at the time of Maſs, the book being laid open before him, the candles lighted, and the ſacring bell rung.

p. 80.

True blood, ſays dr. Johnſon, is the blood of him that has the juſt claim. But the expreſſion ſeems to mean no more than innocent blood in general.

p. 113.

His peace with Rome? What is that peace to me?

In a preceding ſcene, Pandulph tells Lewis, that, in caſe of Arthurs death, he,

[84] This claim the dauphin now aſſerts, and it is poſſible that Shakſpeare imagined him to have the right he pre⯑tended. But the fact is, Arthur had left an infant ſister (Eleanor of Britain), who was then right heir to the crown, and de jure queen of England; and who, to the everlaſting disgrace of this country, languiſhed all her days in obſcurity and confinement; and, even ſuppoſing her out of the question, John, and his ſon Henry, had a better title than Blanch, who was onely that kings ſisters daughter; unleſs, indeed, he might be ſaid to have forfeited all right, by his unnatural cruelty to his nephew, whom he is believed to have murdered with his own hands: yet ſtill, even on that idea, would young Henrys title remain unimpeached; for neither then, nor in our authors time, was it underſtood, that the per⯑ſonal misconduct of the ancestor, could, in any caſe, bar the ſucceſſion of the innocent iſſue. A humane and righte⯑ous principle, reſerved for the discovery and practice of a more refined and liberal people, in a more enlightened and politic age!

p. 120.

"Happy innovation," quoth dr. Johnſon. "that pur⯑poſed the reſtoration of the ancient rightful government." What rightful government? Does the good old conſtitu⯑tionaliſt ſuppoſe it to have been in John, a murderer, and a villain, one who had not the leaſt right to the poſſeſſion of the crown, and whom it would have been praiſe-worthy in any man or ſet of men to have put to death?

p. 151.

Dr. Johnſon does not (he ſays) clearly ſee the ſenſe of this abrupt line. It is not, therefor, much to be wondered that he has not given a meaning which he could not find. The old copies reading—ſo fare ¹⁰, mr. Tollet makes the ſpeaker wiſh Norſolk to fare like his enemy. A conſtruction than which nothing can be more irrational and abſurd. Bolingbroke onely uſes the phraſe by way of caution, leſt Mowbray ſhould think he was about to ad⯑dreſs him as a friend: Norfolk, ſays he, ſo far as a man may ſpeak to his enemy, I, &c.

p. 188.

This laſt line mr. Theobald thought an interpolation, and therefor threw it out of his edition; and, in this, the edi⯑tors have been weak enough to incloſe it in brackets. Theſe proceedings are the more remarkable, as, ſuppoſing it genuine, there does not appear any thing like a reaſon in mr. Theobalds note, for the charge he would make againſt Shakſpeare, of forgetfulneſs and inattention to his⯑tory (and a very ſtrange charge it would be). For it is evident, from the preceding ſcene, that there was a force in [86]Wales, which Bolingbroke might think it neceſſary to ſuppreſs; and why, dr. Johnſon, (for you think the emen⯑dation juſt), might not Shakſpeare call it Glendowers? When we next ſee Bolingbroke, he is in Wales, and men⯑tions his having received intelligence that the Welſhmen are diſperſed.

p. 211.

An execration, dr. Johnſon obſerves, too ludicrous and unſuitable to the queens condition; and it certainly ap⯑pears ſo. But, perhaps, (for Shakſpeares higheſt or loweſt characters are never without a quibble) ſhe means to wiſh him chidlleſs. It is to be remembered that the queen was very young, dr. Johnſon will, therefor, the more readyly pardon any puerilities of expreſſion he may find her guilty of.

p. 213.

Dr. Johnſon here takes an opportunity to cenſure Shak⯑ſpeare for deſerting the manners of the age in which his drama is placed:—this weapon, he ſays, not being ſeen in England till two centuries aftewards. It would be as well, however, though not quite ſo eaſy, for the learned critic to bring ſome proof in ſupport of this and ſuch like aſſertions. Without which the authority of Shakſpeare is at leaſt equal to that of dr. Johnſon. And, even if he could prove what he aſſerts (which, however, it is believed he cannot), the poets friends would ſtill have an argument which would render both his aſſertions and his proofs equally nugatory and ridi⯑culous.

p. 242.

My thoughts are minutes, and, with ſighs they jar Their watches to mine eyes —

The firſt folio, ſays dr. Johnſon, agrees with the third quarto, which reads:

This is not true. The firſt folio, which the learned critic was too indolent to conſult, reads ‘Their watches on unto mine eyes—’

Which he has already given as the reading of the quarto of 1608.

p. 243.

Now, ſir, the ſound, that tells what hour it is, Are clamorous groans —

Should we not read thus:

p. 252.

Dr. Warburton calls theſe lines nonſenſe, and would read trempe inſtead of daub, or, as it ſtood then, damp. Dr. Johnſon allows them to be abſurd, but objects to trempe, and would change entrance to entrails, adding that the relative her is inaccurately uſed in both readings. He is likewiſe willing to ſuppoſe a verſe loſt. Mr. Steevens, [88]not being ſatisfyed with either alteration, propoſes entrants inſtead of entrance, and explains it by, "thoſe who ſet foot on this kingdom through the luſt of power or con⯑queſt (which was the kings own caſe)." Never ſure was there ſo much drumbleing, nor (except in this edition) were there ever ſo many wild and abſurd conjectures, as this ſimple paſſage has given riſe to. For ſo ſimple it cer⯑tainly is, as that the little meaning it has may be eaſyly discovered by the moſt ignorant; however doctors may differ about it. The thirſty entrance of the ſoil is nothing more or leſs than the face of the earth, parched and cracked as it always appears in a dry ſummer; and mr. Steevens came nearer the mark than he was aware of when he men⯑tioned the persus ſurface of the ground. As to its being perſonifyed, it is, certainly, no ſuch unuſual practice with Shakſpeare. Every one talks familarly of mother Earth; and they who live upon her face may, without much im⯑propriety, be called her children. Our author onely confines the image to his own country. The alluſion is to the Barons wars.

p. 261.

There is a very old and popular tradition that old lad of the castle alludes to the name of Sir John Oldcastle, Fal⯑ſtaffs original ſurname, when this play was firſt performed. This mr. Steevens will by no means allow. But it is no matter; there is as much reaſon, argument, and authority, as can be well expected on one ſide of the question, and his bare opinion on the other. Fuller, beſide the words cited in the note, has, in his Worthies, p. 253, the following paſſage:

[89] "Sir John Oldcastle was firſt made a thraſonical puff, an emblem of mock valour, a make ſport in all plays for a coward."

Speed, likewiſe, in his Chronicle, edit. 2. p. 178, ſays:

"The author of the Three Converſions [i. e. Parſons, the Jeſuit] hath made Oldcastle a ruffian, a robber, and a rebel, and his authority, taken from the ſtage-playe [...]s, is more befitting the pen of his ſlandcrous report, than the credit of the judicious, being only grounded from the papiſt and the poet, of like conſcience for lies, the one ever ſeign⯑ing, and the other ever falſifying the truth." ¹¹

It is ſomewhat extraordinary for mr. Steevens to aſſert that Shakſpeare was not the author of the old play of Hen. V. in which Oldcastle appears to have been firſt intro⯑duced upon the ſtage. No body ever ſaid or thought he was. But the very ingenious critic knows, and allows; that this ſame play afforded Shakſpeare ſeveral hints; among which were the name and character of Sir John Oldcastle, whom he, afterwards, upon better advice, called Sir John Falſt [...]ff.

p. 284.

It was not, ſays mr. Steevens, Edmund Earl of March, the Mortimer of this play, whom K. Richard II. pro⯑claimed heir to the crown; but his father Roger earl of March, who was killed ſoon after in Ireland.

The learned commentator would have done well to conſult the history before he ventured to be ſo deci⯑ſive. [90]Let us ſee when Northumberland heard this procla⯑mation. Why,

That Roger Mortimer could not be then proclaimed heir to the crown is evident, from this plain and ſimple circum⯑ſtance:—He was not then alive. He had been treache⯑rously killed by the wild Iriſh; and it was chiefly to revenge his death that the king ſet out on this very expe⯑dition. This proves it could not be Roger; and that it was Edmund, is proved by Hall, who expreſsly ſays, that HE, ("Edmond, ſonne to erle Roger") "at kyng Richardes goyng into Ireland was proclaimed heire apparant to the crowne and realme."

p. 292.

An't be not four by the day, I'll be hang'd: Charles' wain is over the new chimney.

Charleses wain is the vulgar name given to the conſtella⯑tion called the Bear. But why Charleses wain? What Charles? It is, in fact, a mere corruption of the Chorles, or Churls wain (Sax. ceo [...]l, a countryman). For this very in⯑genious and judicious etymology the writer is indebted to a earned friend.

p. 293.

Loach, ſays dr. Warburton, is a loch (Scotch) a lake. Mr. Steevens half-doubts the propriety of this explanation, and ſuppoſes the expreſſion may mean fleas reſembling a loach (i. e. the fiſh ſo called). They muſt have been elephantine⯑lops, indeed, to do this, the loach being two or three [91]inches in length. Beſides, this conſtruction neceſſaryly re⯑quires the paſſage to have been:—ſ [...]eas like loaches. The alluſion is doubtleſs to the above fiſh; and mr. Steevens, in the courſe of his extenſive reſearches, may one day find that it either has, or was formerly ſuppoſed to have, when dead, the quality of producing fleas in abundance. Dr. Watbur⯑tons explanation, if it may be ſo miscalled, is almoſt too ab⯑ſurd to deſerve contradiction. The Scotch or Iriſh word loch, a lake, is a hard guttural ſound, which we have ſoftened into lough: e. g. lough (vulgariter lop)-leeches, the phyſi⯑cians or phlebotomiſts of the lake.

p. 300.

Give me thy hand: thou ſhalt have a ſhare in our purchaſe.

Purchaſe;—perquiſitio, acquiſition: Thus, in Hen. V. ‘They will ſteal any thing, and call it purchaſe.’

p. 303.

Stand.

So I do, againſt my will.

O, 'tis our Setter, I know his voice.

What news.

Caſe ye, caſe ye; &c.

In all the copies, ſays dr. Johnſon, that I have ſeen, Poins is made to ſpeak on the entrance of Gadshill thus: ‘O, 'tis our ſetter; I know his voice.—Bardelph, what news?’

This he pronounces to be abſurd; and therefor alters the paſſage as above; with very little reaſon, and againſt all authority. The modern editors, noticing an omiſſion, make Bardolph to enter with Gadshill. The learned critic calls this a countenancing of the impropriety, and, therefor, [92]does not bring Bardolph on at all. There is no abſurdity in the paſſage, except that of which the learned commen⯑tator is guilty. Falſtaffs calling out for Bardolph is no proof that he was within hearing. The latters entrance ſhould be marked, and the old reading reſtored.

p. 304.

Hang ye, gor-bellied knaves; are ye undone? No, ye fat chuffs.

Mr. Steevens is under a ſmall mistake in ſuppoſing this word a corruption of choughs. The name of the Corniſh bird is pronounced, by the natives, chow. Chuff is the ſame word with cuff, both ſignifying a clown, and being, in all probability derived from a Saxon word of the latter ſound. So Cotton, Virgil [...] t [...]ave [...]tie:

p. 321.

You rogue, there's lime in this ſack.

Sack, the favourite beverage of Sir John Falſtaff, was, according to the information of a very old gentleman, a liquor compounded of Sherry, Syder, and Sugar. Some⯑times it ſhould ſ [...]em to have been brewed with eggs, i. e. mulled. And that the vintners played tricks with it, appears from Falſtaffs charge in the text, &c. It does not ſeem to be, at preſent, known; the ſweet wine ſo called being, apparently, of a quite different nature.

p. 333.

He of Wales that ſwore the devil his true liegeman upon the croſs of a Welſh book.

Mr. Steevens ſeems to be right in ſuppoſing a Welſh book to be a weapon of the ſame kind with our old Eng⯑liſh [93]bill, or the Lochaber axe (with which, by the way, mr. Steevens might have obſerved, colonel Gardiner was killed ¹²). The repreſentation, therefor, of the old ſword from Speed could have been ſpared. It is more like the ſeaxe or faulchion of our Saxon ancestors than any inſtru⯑ment of Henry the Fourths time. The ſhepherds hook, in the ſong, is no warlike implement, but merely a crook he uſed to catch his ſheep withall.

p. 336.

Do thou ſtand for my father.

Shall I? content:—this chair ſhall be my ſtate, this dag⯑ger my ſceptre, and this cuſhion my crown.

Thy ſtate is taken for a joint-ſtool, thy golden ſceptre for a leaden dagger, and thy precious rich crown, for a pitiful bald crown.

This, ſays dr. Farmer, is an apoſtrophe of the prince to his abſent father; not an anſwer to Falſtaff.

The learned critics interpretation cannot be right. It is certainly nothing more than a ludicrous deſcription of Falſlaffs mock regalia.

p. 339.

If the fruit may be known by the tree, as the tree by the fruit, then there is virtue in that Falſtaff.

Mr. Steevens is afraid that here is a profane alluſion to the 33d verſe of the 12th chapter of St. Matthew. Alas! [94]and if the alluſion were intentional, where is its profans⯑neſs?

p. 343.

Thou art eſſentially mad, without ſeeming ſo.

And thou a natural coward, without inſtinct.

I deny your major; if you will deny the ſheriff, ſo; if not let him enter: &c.

Falſtaff here intends a quibble, which the editors, indus⯑trious enough, it muſt be confeſsed, in pointing out ſuch like things ¹³, have ſuffered to eſcape their notice. Major, which ſheriff brought to his mind, ſignifies as well one of the parts of a logical propofit on, as the principal officer of a corporation, now called a Mayor.

p. 352.

The tongue, i. e. ſays dr. Johnſon, the Engliſh language, He is wrong. Glendower means that he graced his own tongue with the art of ſinging.

p. 355.

She's deſperate here; a peeviſh ſelf-will'd harlotry.

Capulet, in Romeo and Juliet, ſpeaking of his daughter has the ſame expreſſion: ‘A peeviſh ſelf-will'd harlotry it is.’

p. 363.

The metaphor carded his ſtate is ſuppoſed, by mr. Stee⯑vens (from a hint of mr. Tollet), and by dr. Farmer, to be taken from mingling coarſe wool with fine, and carding them together. But this explanation is by much too far fetched; and the learned critics may be juſtly ſaid to have ſent their wits a wool-gathering in ſearch of it. By card⯑ing his ſtate, the uſurper means that his predeceſſor ſet his conſequence to hazard, played it away (as a man loſes his fortune) at cards.

p. 366.

The archbiſhops grace of York, Douglas, Mortimer, Capitulate againſt us and are up.

i. e. ſays mr. Steevens, make head againſt us. Rather combine, confederate, indent. To capitulate is To draw up any thing in heads or articles. Johnſons Dictionary.

p. 396.

[96] To ſue his livery, mr. Steevens ſays, is a law phraſe, meaning to ſue out the poſſeſſion of his lands from the Court of Wards.

The Court of Wards did not exiſt till the 32d year of king Henry the Eighth; before which time Wardſhips were uſually granted, as court-favours, to thoſe who made ſuit for, and had intereſt enough to obtain them.

p. 403.

That is, as dr. Johnſon very learnedly obſerves, the cuckows chicken, who, ſays he, being hatched and fed by the ſparrow [r. the hedge ſparrow], in whoſe neſt the cuckows egg was laid, grows in time able to devour his nurſe.

Such, indeed, is the old popular ſuperſtition. But the curious reader will find the honour and reputation of the cuckow and her ſaid chicken (ſo elegantly perſonifyed by the learned commentator) ably deſended by the ingenious mr. Daines Barrington, in his late uſeful and entertaining Miſcellany.

p. 417.

Should we not read—my loſt opinion?

p. 452.

And more, and leſs, do flock to follow him.

More and leſs, mr. Steevens ſays, means greater and leſs. Not in this place. It is, ſimply, large and ſmall num⯑bers.

p. 458.

You hunt-counter, hence! avaunt!

Hunt-counter, ſays dr. Johnſon, that is, blunderer. Ra⯑ther, you baſe tyke, you worthleſs dog. There can be no rea⯑ſon why Falſtaff ſhould call the ſervant a blunderer, but he ſeems very anxious to prove him a rascal. Mr. Steevenses quotations would have been more germane to the matter if they had exhibited hunt-counter as a ſubſtantive. For it is not impoſſible that, after all, the word may be found to ſignify a catchpole or bumbailif. He was, probably, the judge's tipſtaff.

p. 459.

In the quarto edition, printed in 1600, this ſpeech, mr. Theobald informs us, ſtands thus: ‘Old. Very well, my lord, very well.’

Mr. Steevens ſtill remains unconvin [...]ed, and adds that Old. MIGHT have been the beginning of ſome actors name. An ob⯑jection which would have ſerved equally well, if the name of Oldcastle had, in that edition, ſtood at length, inſtead of Falſtaff, throughout the whole play. The learned critics heterodoxical obduracy increaſes in proportion to the blaze of goſpel evidence on the other ſide, which muſt enforce conviction upon every mind not predetermined to think otherwiſe.

p. 481.

Poins. — the worſt that they can ſay of me is, that I am a ſecond brother, and that I am a proper fellow of my hands; and theſe two things, I confeſs, I cannot help.

A tall or proper fellow of his hands, ſays dr. Johnſon, was a ſtout fighting man.

In this place, however, a proper fellow of his hands, means a good looking, well made, perſonable man. Poins might certainly have helped his being a fighting fellow.

p. 511.

Ha! a baſtard ſon of the king's? and art not thou Poins, his brother?

His brother! whoſe brother? the kings, or his bastard ſons? Aſtoniſhing, that the editors did not perceive the abſurdity of printing, or, at leaſt, pointing the paſſage thus:

And art not thou Poins his brother (i. e. Poinses brother or brother to Poins)? a vulgar corruption of the genitive caſe!

p. 520.

We would, dear lords, unto the Holy Land.

Dr. Johnſon is very fond of giving the reader continual information, that the play proceeds in one unbroken tenor through the firſt edition,—that there is, therefor, no evi⯑dence that the diviſion of the acts was made by the au⯑thour; and that, ſince, every editor has the ſame right to mark the intervals of action as the players who made the preſent distribution, he would propoſe, to change them ſo and ſo.

[99] When a diviſion has been made by mr. Rowe [...] any of his ſucceſſors, an editor has certainly a good right, to change it, if he can, for the better. But there is little room to doubt that the pauſes of action marked in the firſt folio have been intended, or, at leaſt, approved by the au⯑thor. The player editors divided the different dramas juſt as they were broken in the repreſentation. And, moſt, if not all, of Shakſpeares plays having been performed at his own theatre, and under his own eye, it is very improbable that he ſhould not have given directions about the diviſion of the acts. If there had been no distinction of acts in the playhouſe copies, meſſieurs Hemings and Condell would never have troubled their heads about the matter. No edi⯑tor has therefor any right to alter that diviſion which is eſtabliſhed by the two firſt folios: unleſs in two or three places where the misplacing of the actus is too glaringly abſurd to admit a doubt of its impropriety.

p. 521.

— Will Squele a Cotswold man.

i. e. ſays mr. Steevens, one verſed in the gymnastic ex⯑erciſes, and conſequently of a daring ſpirit, and an athletic conſtitution. I ſuppoſe, continues he, the following paſ⯑ſage contains an alluſion of the ſame kind:

Again: ‘You old ſtale ruffin, you lyon of Cotſoll.’

It is rather unlucky that the ingenious commentator did not comprehend the force of this expreſſion. A lyon of Cots⯑wold is a ſheep.

p. 523.

The ſame ſir John.....I ſaw him break Skogans head at the court gate.

[100] Who Scogan was, mr. Steevens ſays, may be underſtood from a paſſage in the Fortunate Iſles, a maſque by Ben Jonſon.

And adds, that among the works of Chaucer is a poem called, "Scogan, unto the lordes and gentilmen of the king's houſe."

But this is not the Scogan alluded to by Shallow. He means the Scogan who was a jeſter, mime, mimic, or court-fool in Edward the Fourths reign. Mr. Steevens knows Scogans Jeſ [...]s. That is the man. As to the point of chronology, it is not worth conſideration.

p. 530.

For you, Mouldy, ſtay at home till you are paſt ſervice.

Dr. Farmer ſeems right in his conjecture that this paſ⯑ſage ſhould be read: ‘For you, Mouldy, you have ſtay'd at home 'till you are paſt ſervice.’

The ſame ingenious and learned critic (whom every lover of hakſpeare, literature, and truth muſt always regard with the utmoſt gratitude and reſpect) obſerves that there is ſome mistake in the number of recruits: Shallow ſays, that Fal⯑ſtaff ſhould have four there, but he appears to get but three: Wart, Shadow, and Feeble.—It is very true.—Falſtaff, on his entrance, aſks the justices if they have provided him half a dozen ſufficient men. Shal [...]ow anſwers in the affirma⯑tive. But onely five are produced. And, when Falſtaff [101]ſays, Is here all? Shallow tells him, there is two more called than your number, you muſt have but four here. So that there is certainly a man miſsing. Is this now irretrieveable loſs to be charged upon Shakſpeare, or the players?

p. 581.

— Yea, marry, William cook, bid him come hither.

It appears from this inſtance, mr. Steevens thinks, that anciently the lower orders of people had no ſurnames, but in their ſtead were content to adopt the titles of their ſeve⯑ral profeſſions. An inſerence and concluſion which may with equal justice and propriety be made by ſome critic, commenting, a couple of centuries hence, upon the dramatic pieces of the preſent period, on meeting with the titles of Robin coachman, and John hoſteler.

p. 588.

And ſtruck me in the very ſeat of judgment.

Sir John Hawkins ſubjoins an account of the inſult given to the ſpeaker by prince Henry, from Sir Thomas Elyot. But mr. Malone obſerves that there is no mention in it of the princes having ſtruck him. "Speed, however," adds he, "who quotes Elyot, ſays, on I know not what authority, that the prince gave the judge a blow on the face." That this moſt learned gentleman may, for the future, know on what authority Speed made the aſſertion, he has an opportunity to peruſe the following extract.

"For impriſonmente of one of his [prince Henrys] wanton mates and vnthriftie plaifaiers he ſtrake the chiefe Justice with his fiſte on the face. For which offence he was not onely committed to ſtreyght priſon, but alſo of his fa⯑ther put out of the preuy counſaill and baniſhed the courte." [102]Hall, Hen. IV. It is more than probable that Hollinshed has the ſame ſtory; and the commentator might have like⯑wiſe found it,—where Shakſpeare did,—in the old anony⯑mous play.

p. 597.

Do me right, and dub me knight; Saningo.—Is't not ſo?

He means, according to Hanmer, to ſay San Domingo. An obſervation highly applauded by the reverend mr. Thomas Warton, who is, to be ſure, from his extraordi⯑nary ſkill in the tongues, perfectly well qualifyed to judge of its propriety. But the truth is, that the Spaniards, though they uſe San Pedro, San Juan, never either write or ſay San Tomas, or San Domingo. Mr. Steevens has very happyly quoted an old catch, ending:

Which is the identical ſcrap that Silence is ſinging; he therefor certainly means to ſay Domingo; but, being fap (as Bardolph hath it), concluſions paſs the careires.

p. 18.

But Charlemain and Charles the Great were one and the ſame perſon. Charlechauve was indeed the ſon of Lewis the emperor: but who the lady Lingare was hath not been discovered. Shakſpeare, however, gives the information juſt as he found it in Hall and Hollinshed.

Ibid.

The worth ninth has been inſerted by ſome of the mo⯑dern editors. The old copies read tenth. No notice is, how⯑ever, taken of any variation in the margin of the preſent edition. And yet, ninth is certainly wrong, and tenth cer⯑tainly right. Iſabel was the wife of Philip the Second, father of Lewis the Ninth, and grandfather of Lewis the Tenth.

p. 20.

May I, with right and conſcience, make this claim?

The ſin upon my head, dread ſovereign!

Notwithſtanding the learned prelate is ſo confident in his opinion, and ſo zealous to engage the king in a war with France, and to cauſe ſuch a deluge of Christian blood, it will not be improper for the readers of this play to reflect, that he had no more right to the throne of that kingdom, than Charles VI. had to the crown of England. Henry propoſes the invaſion and conqueſt of France in proſecu⯑cution of the dying advice of the uſurping Machiavel his father:

That his ſubjects might have ſufficient employment to mislead their attention from the nakedneſs of his own title. The archibiſhop and clergy, it appears, had a ſimilar rea⯑ſon for urging it.

p. 29.

It is evident that the word hence implies here: Sir Tho⯑mas Hanmer was, however, to blame for making it ſo. No one who reads Shakſpeare, or, indeed, any other old writer, can be ignorant in what ſtrangely lax and arbitrary ſenſes [105]many other words are uſed. The king ſays, that as he had lived from home (i. e. his throne of France), in a place he did not eſteem, he had been careleſs to obſerve the dignity and behaviour of a great king.

Dr. Warburton explains it to be, living as if he were ab⯑ſent from England; mr. Steevens, with-drawing from court.

p. 35.

Good morrow, lieutenant Bardolph.

It would be ſome ſatisfaction to learn how Bardolph ac⯑quired his commiſſion; he was no more than Falſtaffs cor⯑poral when we laſt parted with him: and in act II. ſcene ii. Nym addreſses him by the ſame title; which, mr. Steevens there ſays, is a mistake for lieutenant. That gentleman, therefor, is, perhaps, able to give the deſired information.

p. 36.

— when time ſhall ſerve, there ſhall be ſmiles.

Dr. Warburton ſuſpects ſmiles to have been a ſtage di⯑rection. Mr. Steevens explains it thus:—he ſhould be merry even though he were to loſe Pistols friendſhip; or, that his face would be ready with a ſmile as often as occa⯑ſion ſhould call one out into ſervice, though Pistol, who had excited ſo many, was no longer near him. It is not always an eaſy matter to discover the humour of Nyms ex⯑preſſions, but, from the tenour of his discourſe, one would think he meant, that, when opportunity came, he would take a pleaſant revenge; that he would, when he caught Pistol ſleeping, cut his throat, and ſmile.

p. 38.

Good lieutenant, good corporal, offer nothing here.

[106] Mr. Steevens obſerves, we ſhould read—Good ancient, for it is Pistol to whom he addreſses himſelf. It is very true; and what is Pistol? Falſtaff, whom one may ſup⯑poſe to have been at leaſt as well acquainted with his rank as the ingenious commenator can be, has already ad⯑dreſsed him by the ſame title: ‘"Fear no colours; go with me to dinner. Come, lieutenant Pistol; come, Bardolph."’ And, in act III. of the preſent play, Fluellen calls him —an ancient lieutenant.

Ibid.

Piſh for thee, Iceland dog! thou prick-ear'd cur of Iceland!

The old reading was Island; and Island ſeems to be right. It is the proper name of the country. The difficulty aroſe from the commentators not underſtanding the right pro⯑nunciation. And it may be here obſerved, in paſsing, that the common Engliſh word ſhould be always written iland; the s being not only expletive and uſeleſs, but unnatural and abſurd. The ſame obſervation will apply to the word viscount, unleſs it ſhould be thought better to write and pronounce it vicecount.

p. 53.

— his noſe was as ſharp as a pen, and 'a babbled of green fields.

Here is a number of profound annotations on this paſ⯑ſage, of which the uſe is not very apparent. That note of Theobalds, which, dr. Johnſon affects to ſay, he omits in pity to his readers, is not onely a better but a more intereſt⯑ing one than any in the page; and was peculiarly neceſ⯑ſary, as it eſtabliſhed the adopted reading. A mr. Smith ſeems to write with a good deal of confidence; why do not [107]we meet him oftener? or, rather, why have we met him at all?

p. 58.

Let houſewif'ry appear; keep cloſe, I thee command.

Mr. Steevens (whoſe note on this paſſage it would not be proper to tranſcribe) has elſewhere obſerved, that, on ſome occaſions, ſilence is leſs reprehenſible than information; and it would, perhaps, have been as well, if he had ſtill continued of the ſame opinion, and omitted to acquaint us with the indecent reading of the old quartos, and ſpared his equally indecent quotations and comments; more eſpe⯑cially as every reader, ignorant of this precious piece of in⯑formation, would take the text, to imply (as it does) no more than a charge to keep within doors: and, further, as it doth not appear, on looking into Philotus, that the word adduced by the learned commentator, either has, or can, by the utmoſt ſtretch of ingenuity, be made to bear, in that play, any ſuch meaning as he here ſeems ſo deſirous of forcing upon it.

p. 64.

"Shall hide your treſpaſs,—] Mr. Pope rightly corrected it, Shall chide—WARBURTON."

"I doubt whether it be rightly corrected. The mean⯑ing is that the authors of this inſult ſhall fly to caves for refuge. JOHNSON."

"Mr. Pope reſtored chide from the quarto. I have therefore inſerted it in the the text.....STEEVENS."

[108] All theſe gentlemen have boaſted of their fidelity and care in collating the old editions. The two firſt cannot at preſent be ſpoke with. But one may, ſurely, venture to aſk dr. Johnſon and mr. Steevens, what the folios read?

p. 70.

— Up to the preaches, you rascals! will you not up to the preaches?

Be merciful, great duke, to men of mould!

Great duke! what duke? Fluellen? Indeed his grace is infinitely obliged to the generoſity of our editorial Brentford Sovereigns, for the honour they have been ſo graciously pleaſed to confer upon him. A Welſh captain created a duke! Good! It is not fit, however, that Shak⯑ſpeares dignities ſhould be thus proſtituted at the mere motion and ſpecial grace of every uſurper. Perhaps the next Phys or Uſh that obtrudes hisſelf upon the dramatic throne may take it into his head to create ancient Pistol a viscount. But the peerage of Shakſpeare muſt not be ſo degraded. We ſhall, therefor, forthwith inſtitute an enquiry into the dispoſal of the above dukedom.

Up to the preaches, &c.] Thus, ſays mr. Steevens, the 4to. The folio, adds he, reads up to the breach you dogges, avaunt you cullions. But neither does this variation leſsen the ab⯑ſurdity of Pistols calling Fluel'en a duke.

The quart [...] reads Flucilens ſpeech as in the text, and Nym anſwers him thus: ‘Abate thy rage, ſweet knight, abate thy rage.’ No mention is made of any duke.

The fact is, that, in the folio, it is the duke of Exeter, and not Eluellen, who enters, and to whom Pistol addreſses hisſelf. Shakſpeare had made the alteration, and the [109]player editors inſerted it in the text, but, inadvertently, left Fluellen in poſſeſſion of the margin. This was an incon⯑gruity which might, one would think, have been eaſyly per⯑ceived and quickly remedyed, but the preſent editors, by taking Fluellens ſpeech from the quarto, and Pistols from the folio, have increaſed the confuſion and abſurdity of the text a thouſand fold; and thus it has come to paſs that the former is created a duke.

p. 85.

— Fortune is painted plind, &c.

This picture of Fortune, dr. Farmer tells us, is taken from the old history of Fortunatus. But is dr. Farmer quite certain that this history had made its appearance in an Eng⯑liſh dreſs ſo early as Shakſpeares time? Surely Fortune is painted plind in many other books, much more ancient, and equally common.

p. 87.

Die and be damn'd: and figo for thy friendſhip!—The fig of Spain!

An alluſion, mr. Steevens obſerves, to the custom of giving poiſon'd figs to thoſe who were the objects of Spa⯑niſh or Italian revenge. But the expreſſion both here and afterwards is evidently uſed by Pistol as a term of contempt; and cannot have any relation either to poiſoning or to re⯑venge. Whether to the fico, indeed, explained in the Merry Wives of Windſor, may be doubtful.

p. 103.

We muſt certainly read Preſenteth.

p. 110.

— Some, crying for a ſurgeon, &c. ſome, upon their children rawly left.

That is, ſays dr. Johnſon, without preparation, haſtily ſuddenly. He is wrong. Rawly left is, left young and helpleſs.

p. 116.

The old copies read:

The poet, ſays Theobald, might intend, "take from them the ſenſe of reckoning thoſe oppoſed numbers; which might pluck their courage from them." But the relative, adds he, not being expreſsed, the ſenſe is very obſcure.

This change, according to dr. Johnſon, is rightly ad⯑mitted by biſhop Warburton. Sir Thomas Hanmer, it ſeems, reads:

This reading, dr. Johnſon ſays, he borrowed from the old quarto, which gives the paſſage thus:

Mr. Tyrwhitt allows that Theobalds alteration makes a very good ſenſe; but he thinks that we might read, with [111]leſs deviation from the old edition, what is adopted in the preſent text.

After all, the old reading appears to be right; though none of the commentators has attempted to explain it. The king prays that his men may be unable to reckon the enemys force; that their hearts (i. e. their ſenſe and paſ⯑ſions) may be taken from them: that they may be as brave as a total abſence of all feeling and reflection can make them ¹⁴. An explanation which ſeems to be countenanced by the old 4to.

A learned friend inclines to think that, by—their hearts, the king means the hearts of the oppoſed numbers.

p. 117.

This reading is certainly right, though not properly ex⯑plained by dr. Johnſon. It is ſimply thus:—All that I can do is of no avail; ſince, when I have done every thing I can, I muſt ſtill rely on my own penitence for obtaining the pardon of my fathers misdeeds. The firſt part of dr. Warburtons note is ſingularly juſt. It is, indeed, a mockery of Heaven in Henry to expect pardon for a crime of which he continued to enjoy the benefit. And, certainly, if ever the divine judgement ought to have interfered, or did actually interfere in viſiting the ſins of the fathers upon the children, it was in this very caſe of the houſe of Lancaster.

p. 129.

Yield, cur.

Je penſe, que vous efles le gentilhomme de bonne qualité.

Quality, call you me? Conſtrue me, art thou a gentle⯑man?

The old and evidently true reading is, quality, (calmie) calmly, (cuſture) conſtrue me. The alteration was, it ſeems, propoſed by mr. Edwards; and has been too haſtyly adopted. For if it be not nonſenſe, it is very little better. Pistol, who does not underſtand French, imagines the pri⯑ſoner to be ſpeaking of his own quality. The line ſhould, therefor, have been given thus: ‘Quality!—calmly; conſtrue me, art thou a gentleman?’

p. 133.

— neantmoins, pour les eſcus que vous l'avez promettez, &c.

It is ſtrange enough that the editors ſhould print this nonſenſe for French. The firſt folio reads, layt a promets. But the ſecond gives it correctly,—lui promettez.

p. 145.

Stand away captain Gower; I will give treaſon his pay⯑ment into plows, I warrant you.

The Reviſal, very plauſibly, according to dr. Johnſon, reads, in two plows. Mr. Steevens would rather prefer, in due plows. But what need of alteration? The Scotiſh, both in ſpeaking and in writing, frequently uſe into for in. However, if it ſhould ſtill be thought neceſſary to amend the text, the readyeſt way would be to omit a ſyllable, and read—in plows.

p. 146.

Give me thy glove, ſoldier; look, here is the fellow of it.

[113] It muſt be, ſays dr. Johnſon, give me my glove; for of the ſoldiers glove the king had not the fellow. The paſſage is, notwithſtanding, like moſt of thoſe the doctor objects to, perfectly right. Give me thy glove, ſoidier, i. e. that which thou haſt in thy cap; and of that the king had cer⯑tainly the fellow.

p. 161.

— ſuch a plain king—

"I know not," ſays dr. Johnſon, "why Shakſpeare now gives the king nearly ſuch a character as he made him for⯑merly ridicule in Percy." It would be much leſs difficult for the reader to remove the cauſe of the learned commen⯑tators ignorance, than it would be for him to point out the paſſage in which Percy is ridiculed.

p. 210.

Mr. Steevens believes that trull did not anciently bear ſo harſh an interpretation as it does at preſent. An opinion for which the learned commentator does not ſeem to have ſuf⯑ficient authority. In Shakſpeares time, and long before, it ſignifyed a ſtrumpet, a harlot, as it evidently does in the text. Neither will the ſingle inſtance brought by mr. [114]Steevens prove the contrary. In the ancient morality of The iiij elements, a fellow ſays:

Again, in the old mayg [...]me of Robin Hode: ‘She is a trul of truſt, to ferve a fryer at his luſt.’

It is to be regretted that Shakſpeare ſhould have ſo far fol⯑lowed the abſurd and lying ſtories of his time, about this celebrated heroine, whom the French called the maid of God, as to repreſent her not onely a ſtrumpet, but a witch. If we may believe the moſt authentic historians ſhe was no leſs diſtinguiſhed for virtue than courage. She was burnt, indeed, by the barbarous Engliſh, whom ſhe had ſo fre⯑quently driven before her, and who, to excuſe their want of courage or policy, and to justify their inhumanity, pre⯑tended that ſhe had dealt with the devil! But her memory will, no doubt, be long held in deſerved veneration by her grateful countrymen, whom ſhe ſo largely contributed to reſcue from uſurpation and ſlavery. And it is not the leaſt praiſe of our elegant historian, mr. Hume, that he has en⯑deavoured to do justice to the much injured character of this amiable, brave, wiſe, and patriotic female.

The dauphin, too, whom we are apt to look upon as a traitor, a coward, and a ſcoundrel, was, perhaps, the greateſt character of the age he lived in. He was one of the beſt kings France ever had, and England never had a better.

p. 218.

He bears him on the place's privilege.

"The Temple," dr. Johnſon obſerves, "being a reli⯑ [...], was an aſvlum, a place of exemption, from [...], revenge, and bloodſhed."

[115] The learned commentator deals more in words than in knowlege. The Temple was then, as it is now, the re⯑ſidence of ſtudents in the law. And it is not unlikely that the orders of the ſociety prohibited quarreling and blows under certain penalties.

p. 220.

Mr. Edwards, in his MS. notes, ſays mr. Steevens, ob⯑ſerves, that Shakſpeare has varyed from the truth of his⯑tory, to introduce this ſcene between Mortimer and Richard Plantagenet. Edmund Mortimer ſerved under Henry V. in 1422, and dyed unconfined in Ireland in 1424.

The truth of this charge ſhould have been eſtabliſhed by ſome better authority than the dictum of mr. Edwards, adopted by mr. Steevens. In the third year of Henry the ſixth (1425), and during the time that Peter duke of Coimbra was entertained in London, "Edmonde Mortymer," ſays Hall, "the laſt erle of Marche of that name (which longe tyme had bene reſtrayned frō hys liberty, and fynally waxed lame) diſceaſed wythout yſſue, whoſe inheritance diſcended to lord Richard Plantagenet, &c."

This authority, even if the fact were otherwiſe, is ſuf⯑ficient to protect Shakſpeare againſt the charge of having varyed from the truth of history to introduce the ſcene.

p. 243.

[116] His majesty muſt have had a fine ſprag memory, as ſir Hugh Evans ſays, ſince he frequently, in the courſe of the play, mentions his having been crowned at nine months old.

p. 251.

Theobald, who thought that, by what he calls the point⯑ing reform'd (i. e. corrupted), he had reſtored the text to its purity, reads,—And if I wis, he did—Nay, if I know any thing, he did think harm. Dr. Johnſon thought this plau⯑ſible enough, but would rather have the ſpeech (corrupted further) broken thus:—And if—I wiſh—he did, or, per⯑haps: And if he did, I wiſh. Such nonſenſe as no one but dr. Johnſon would have been confident enough to pro⯑duce; and which not even dr. Johnſon could underſtand. To mr. Steevens we are certainly indebted for a very uſeful additional letter; the old copies, onely reading I wis. But it is really aſtoniſhing that men of ſo much learn⯑ing, ſenſe, and ſagacity, for they certainly have in many places displayed a great deal of each, ſhould ſo groſsly misconceive the meaning of ſo plain and ſimple a paſſage. York ſays, he is not pleaſed that the king ſhould prefer [117]the red roſe, the badge of Somerſet, his enemy; Warwick deſires him not to be offended at it, as he dares ſay the king meant no harm. To which York, yet unſatisfyed, haſtyly adds, in a menacing tone,—If I thought he did —but he inſtantly checks his threat with—let it reſt. It is an example of a rhetorical figure which every one knows, and which our author has elſewhere uſed. Thus, in Co⯑riolanus:

An 'twere to give again—But 'tis no matter.

Mr. Steevens is too familiar with Virgil not to recollect his ‘Quos ego—Sed motos praeſ [...]at componere fluctus.’

If the paſſage would not have explained itsſelf, one ſhould think that Exeters ſoliloquy, immediately following Yorks ſpeech, might have ſerved to do it.

It is but justice to ſay that the truely ingenious author of the Reviſal underſtood this paſſage in the ſame manner; and the neglect he has received at the hands of the late editors who have made little other uſe of his book than merely to pick out a few conjectures to cavil at, does no more credit to them, than it has done ſervice to their author.

p. 255.

And I am lowted by a traytor villain.

A lout is a country fellow, a clown. He means that So⯑merſet treats him like a hind. Dr. Johnſon had better let ſuch words alone, as he does not underſtand. Lowted, in his dictionary, is overpowered.

p. 318.

The meaning of this perplexed and aenigmatical reply ſeems to be: The duke is living who ſhall depoſe the king; but the king ſhall outlive him, and dye by vio⯑lence. The plain conſtruction is: the duke ſhall depoſe Henry, but ſhall outlive him, and dye a violent death;— which was not the caſe.

p. 326.

Inſtead of Saunder the old copies have Simon: mr. Theo⯑bald made the change, as Saunder, elſewhere, appears to be the impostors Christian name. Correction is certainly neceſſary: but it would ſeem better to read Simpcox; for which Sim has, in all probability, been put by contraction in the players MS.

p. 331.

[119] "I know not well," ſays dr. Johnſon, "whether he means the opinion or the title is infallible." Does the learned commentator, whoſe knowlege and want of know⯑lege ſeem equally ſerviceable to Shakſpeare, imagine that any other perſon could have conceived ſuch a doubt, or would have written ſuch a note?

p. 332.

This is very extraordinary. In act II. ſcene v. of the laſt play, York, to whom this is ſpoken, is preſent at the death of Edmund Mortimer in priſon; and the reader will recollect him to have been marryed to Owen Glendowers daughter in the Firſt part of king Henry IV. Is it poſſible that the authors memory ſhould have ſo much deceived him that he could not remember in one play what he had already written in another?

p. 335.

The word raught ſeems to have ſome other meaning in this place, than reached; e. g. reft, or violently torn from him. The point at the end of the ſecond line ſhould be a comma. The limb lopp'd off certainly alludes to the loſs of his office. The full ſtop ſhould be after raught.

p. 348.

My lord, theſe faults are eaſy, quickly anſwer'd.

[120] Eaſy, dr. Johnſon ſays, is ſlight, inconfiderable, as in other paſſages of this author. It would have been well to have produced one or two of thoſe other paſſages; but that, perhaps, might have been difficult. The word, no doubt, means eaſyly.

p. 353.

Mates him, ſays biſhop Percy, means—that firſt puts an end to his moving. To mate, adds he, is a term in cheſs, uſed when the king is ſtopped from moving, and an end put to the game. The learned prelate follows Dog⯑berrys advice, and lets his writing and reading appear when there is no need of ſuch vanity. Mates him, in the text, means—confounds him; from amatir or mater, French. To mate is no term in chefs; with which one would have ſup⯑poſed the ingenious annotator more intimate. Check-mate, the term he alludes to, is a corruption of the Perſian Schah mat; the king is killed. There can be no better evidence that Shakſpeare was entirely unacquainted with the game of cheſs than his not having (at leaſt to the writers remem⯑brance) the moſt distant alluſion to it. As he does not appear to have read a ſingle book, or known a ſingle art or ſcience, or, indeed, any thing elſe, from which he did not, ſome how or other, contrive to introduce into his plays all the information, images, or ideas they had ſupplyed him with. Cheſs would have been an inexhauſtible fund: and kings and warriors would have been check-mated in every play.

p. 359.

I thank thee: Well, theſe words content me much.

The old copies read: ‘I thank thee, Nell, theſe words content me much.’

[121] This, ſays mr. Theobald, is king Henrys reply to his wife Margaret. There can be no reaſon, adds he, why the king ſhould forget his own wiſes name, and call her Nell inſtead of Margaret. As the change of a ſingle letter, he thought, ſet all right, he was willing to ſuppoſe it came from his pen thus: ‘I thank thee. Well, theſe words content me much.’ And this the editors have adopted without further en⯑quiry. That the queens name was Margaret and not Eleanor is an allowed fact. But that the king ſhould for⯑get it is not at all ſurpriſing, as, in the progreſs of the ſcene, we find, that ſhe forgets it herſelf, calling herſelf Eleanor no leſs than three times in one ſpeech. Of this, however, it ſhould ſeem that mr. Theobald has not taken any notice: at leaſt none is taken of it in this edition, which every where reads Margaret. The change in the three inſtances alluded to was certainly requiſite: and the ſame neceſſity and the ſame reaſoning which displaced Eleanor and inſerted Margaret, muſt, in the paſſage under conſideration, displace Nell and inſert Meg.

p. 376.

Obſcure and lowly ſwain, king Henrys blood.

The quarto, mr. Steevens obſerves, reads lowſy ſwain. From which we are, doubtleſs, to infer that the preſent edition agrees with the folio. But, unfortunately for the inference, the folio does not differ from the quarto.

p. 382.

Than Bargulus, the ſtrong Illyrian pirate.

Mr. Tollet is accurate in his reference to Co [...]grave; but Co [...]grave is mistaken. The name of the giant alluded to [122]was Fierabras. Cotgrave had ſomewhere found ce fierabras, which he ſuppoſed to have been three words, ce fier Abras. Don Quixotes miraculous elixir was the balſam of Fie⯑rabras.

p. 392.

The Lent ſhall be as long again as it is, &c.

Lent ſhall be as long as it is—] Methinks, ſays dr. John⯑ſon, it might be read more humorously, Lent ſhall be as long again as it is.

"This emendation, thus impreſsed with all the power of his eloquence, 'dr. Johnſon' found in the" old quarto and two firſt folios, all "which he profeſses to have ſeen" ¹⁵

p. 412.

Iden farewell; and be proud of thy victory: tell Kent from me, ſhe hath loſt her beſt man, and exhort all the world to be cowards; for I that never fear'd any, am vanquiſh'd by famine, not by valour.

How much thou wrong'ſt me, heaven be my judge.

That is, ſays dr. Johnſon, in ſuppoſing that I am proud of my victory. Certainly not; becauſe Cade does not tell him he is proud of his victory, but onely bids him be ſo. He wrongs him in attributing his own death to famine, and not to Idens valour.

p. 413.

Fields near Saint Albans.] But why Saint Albans? Hall, who, it may be ſuppoſed, knew as much about the matter as the editors, and Hollinshed after him, expreſsly ſays, that the duke of York was encamped on "brēt-heath a mile from Dertford [in Kent] and .x. miles from Londō;" and that the kings army lay upon Blackheath. And there is no reaſon to believe that Shakſpeare meant, in this in⯑ſtance, at leaſt, to deviate from the history; though he has certainly ſo, either by inadvertency or deſign, in making Buckingham the meſſenger: he was, indeed, ſent to York, on a different occaſion (i. e. immediately before the battle of Saint Albans); but the biſhops of Winchester and Ely were the ambaſſadors on this.

p. 418.

"The Nevils, earls of Warwick," ſays ſir John Haw⯑kins, "had a bear and a ragged ſtaff for their cognizance, but the Talbots who were formerly earls of Shrewsbury, had a lion; and the preſent earl of Talbot, a deſcendant of that family, has the ſame."

All this, ſir John Hawkins, may be very true, but will you juſt give us leave to aſk—what it is to the purpoſe?

p. 432.

It is the more extraordinary that York ſhould be made to ſay this, as in the laſt ſcene but one of the immediately preceding play, he kills Clifford upon the ſtage, with his own hand.

p. 437.

Dr. Johnſon thought we ſhould rather read prejudicial to his ſon, to his next heir: which is ſtrangely abſurd. Mr. Steevens ſays prejudicial to the crown means to the prerogative of the crown; an expoſition in which he is certainly right, if, by prerogative of the crown, he mean, its indefeaſible here⯑ditary deſcent. The reader will recollect that this was a Revolution parliament, though diametrically oppoſite in its principles and practice to one Shakſpeare never heard of; which, unhappyly for this country! contributed as much to deſtroy the conſtittuion, as that he here deſcribes did to preſerve it.

p. 445.

This intelligence is given to York juſt after he has de⯑termined, from the arguments of his ſons Edward and Richard, to break his oath of peace to the king, and obtain immediate poſſeſſion of the crown by force.

"I know not," ſays dr. Johnſon, "whether the au⯑thor intended any moral inſtruction, but he that reads this has a ſtriking admonition againſt that precipitancy by which men often uſe unlawful means to do that which a little de⯑lay would put honeſtly in their power. Had York ſtaid but a few moments, he had ſaved his cauſe from the ſtain of perjury."

It will be no more than justice to York if we recollect that this ſcene, ſo far as reſpects the oath, and his reſolu⯑tion to break it, proceeds entirely from the authors imagi⯑nation. Neither the earl of March nor Richard was then at Sandal: the latter being likewiſe a mere child, ſcarcely more than (if, indeed, ſo much as) nine years old. His appearance, therefor, and actions in this and the laſt acts of the preſent, and, at leaſt, the two firſt of the following play, are totally unſupported by history and truth.

p. 446.

p. 448.

I never did thee harm, why wilt thou ſlay me?

Thy father hath.

But 'twas ere I was born.

[126] Rutland is under a mistake. The battle of St. Albans, in which old Clifford was ſlain, happened in 1455; that of Wakefield in 1460. He appears to have been at this time above ſeventeen years old.

p. 453.

Oh, tygres heart, wrapp'd in a womans hide.

This is a remarkable inſtance of the editors diffidence, The word appears in the ſame ſhape in the old editions; and the preſent editors, not knowing whether it was in⯑tended for tygers or tygreſs's, durſt not venture to change it, and have therefor left it as they found it. We ſhould, however, certainly read tygreſs.'

p. 462.

— when came George from Burgundy to England?

This circumſtance is not warranted by history. Clarence and Gloucester (as they were afterwards created) were ſent into Flanders immediately after the battle of Wakefield, and did not return untill their brother Edward got poſſeſ⯑ſion of the crown. Beſides, Clarence was not now more than twelve years old.

Iſabel dutcheſs of Burgundy, whom Shakſpeare calls the dukes aunt, was daughter of John I. king of Portugal, by Philippa of Lancaster, eldeſt daughter of John of Gaunt. They were, therefor, no more than third couſins.

p. 469. 470.

Whoever got thee there thy mother ſtands.

......

Iron of Naples, hid with Engliſh gilt.

[127] The firſt of theſe ſpeeches is, in the folios, by an evident blunder, given to Warwick. The latter, which is there given to Richard, ſeems more properly to belong to War⯑wick.

p. 473.

A field of battle, at Ferrybridge in Yorkſhire.] We ſhould read near Towton, Shakſpeare has here, perhaps inten⯑tionally, thrown three different actions into one. The lord Fitz-water, being ſtationed by king Edward to defend the paſs of Ferrybridge, was aſſaulted by the lord Clifford, and immediately ſlain, "and with hym," ſays Hall, "the hastard of Salisbury, brother to the earl of Warwycke, a valeaunt yong gen [...]elman, and of great audicitie. When the earl of Warwycke," adds he, "was informed of this ſeate, he lyke a man deſperated, mounted on his hackeney, and came blowing to kyng Edwarde ſaiyng: ſyr I praye God haue mercy of their ſoules, which in the beginning of your enterpriſe hath loſt their lyfes, and becauſe I ſe no ſuccors of the world I remit the vengeaunce and puniſh⯑ment to God our creator and redenier, and with that lighted doune, and ſlewe his horſe with his ſwourde, ſaiyng: let them flye that wyl, for ſurely I wil tary with him that wil tary with me, and kiſsed the croſſe of his ſwourde." Clifford in his retreat was beſet with a party of Yorkiſts, when, "eyther," ſays the historian, "for heat or payne putting off his gerget ſodainly with an arrowe (as ſome ſay) without an hedde [he] was ſtriken into the throte, and incontinent rendered his ſpirite, and the erle of Weſtmerlandes brother, and almoſt all his company were thare ſlayn, at a place called Dinting-dale, not farr frō Towton." In the afternoon of the next day (Palm Sunday eve, 1461), on a plain field between Towton and Saxton, joined the main battles, [128]which continued engaged that night and the greater part of the following day: upwards of 30,000 men, all Engliſh (including many of the nobility and the flower of the gentry, eſpecially of the northern parts) being ſlain, on both ſides. This battle, ſays Carte, "decided the fate of the houſe of Lancaster, overturning, in one day, an uſurpation ſtrengthened by ſixty-two years continuance: and eſta⯑bliſhed Edward on the throne of England."

p. 489.

Which proves that he can neither have been long out of the former country, nor have got far into the latte. In⯑deed, that this was the fact appears from Hall, who tells us: "He was no ſooner entered, but he was knowen and taken of one Cantlow, and brought towarde the kyng." A future editor will, therefor, do well to read Northhum⯑berland.

p. 499.

Gloucester ſeems onely to enumerate the branches of the houſe of Lancaster from his natural deſire to have a ſpe⯑cious pretence for the murders he intended to commit. Henry and his ſon and their unlcok'd for iſſue could no more [129](of right) place theirſelves between Clarence and him than between Edward and Clarence.

p. 504.

Enter Warwick (at the French court).] This noble⯑mans embaſſy and commiſſion, the inſult he receives by the kings haſty marriage, and his conſequent reſolu⯑tion to avenge it, with the capture, impriſonment, and eſcape of the king, Shakſpeare, it is true, found in Hall and Hollinshed; but later, as well as earlyer writers, of better authority, incline us to discredit the whole; and to refer the rupture between the king and his political creator to cauſes which have not reached posterity, or to that jealouſy and ingratitude ſo natural, perhaps, to thoſe who are under obligations too great to be discharged. Beneficia, ſays Tacitus, eo usque loeta ſunt, dum videntur exſolvi poſſe; ubi multum antevenere, pro gratiâ odium red⯑ditur.

p. 541.

The firſt of theſe noblemen was Edmund, ſlain at the battle of St. Albans, 1455 (Part l. act v. ſcene ii.) The ſecond was Henry his ſon, beheaded after the battle of Hex⯑ham, 1463. The preſent duke, Edmund, brother to Henry, was taken priſoner at Tewksbury, 1471, and there beheaded, (infra, ſcene v.) his brother John loſing his life in the ſame fight.

[130] A liſt of the ſeveral battles fought between the houſes of York and Lancaster may, poſſibly, be thought no incu⯑rious addition to the notes on this play.

• 1. The battle of St. Albans, between Richard duke of York and K. Henry; in which the latter was defeated and made pri⯑ſoner; 23d May 1455.
• 2 The battle of Blore-heath (in Shropſhire), between Richard carl of Salisbury (for York) and James lord Audley (for Lancaster); in which the latter was defeated and ſlain: 23d Septem. 1459.
• 3. The battle of Northhampton, between the earls of March and W [...]rwick and king Henry; in which the king was again defeated and made priſoner: 10th July 1460.
• 4. The battle of Wakefield, between Richard duke of York and queen Margaret; in which the former was defeated and ſlain 30th Decem. 1460.
• 5. The battle of Mortimers croſs, between Edward duke of York and Jasper earl of Pembroke; in which the latter was de⯑feated: ..... 1460.
• 6. The (ſecond) battle of St. Albans, between queen Mar⯑garet and the earl of Warwick; in which the latter was de⯑ſeated: (Shrove-Tuesday) 17th Feb. 1460.
• 7. The [...] of Ferrybridge, between the lord Clifford (for Lancaster) and the lord Fitzwater (for York); in which the [...] was ſurpriſed and killed, Clifford and almoſt all his party being ſtain in their retreat: 28th March 1461.
• 8. The battle of Towton, between king Edward and king Henry; in which the latter was deſeated, and 36,000 were ſlain: (Paint-Sunday eve) 29th March 1961.
• [131] 9. The battle of Hedgeley-Moor (in Northhumberland), be⯑tween the lord Montacute (for York) and the lords Hunger⯑ford and Roos, ſir Ralph Percy and others (for Lancaster); in which the Lancastrians were defeated, and Percy ſlain: 25th. April 1463.
• 10. The battle of Hexham, between the lord Montacute and king Henry; in which the latter was defeated: 15th May 1463.
• 11. The battle of Hedgecote (Banbury or Cotswold), between the earl of Pembroke (for king Edward) and the lords Fitz⯑hugh and Latimer and ſir John Conyers (for the earl of Warwick, on the part of Lancaster); in which the former was defeated: 29th July 1469.
• 13. The battle of Stamford (Leſecoatfield), between ſir Ro⯑bert Wells (for Warwick) and king Edward; in which the former was defeated: ..... 1469.
• 14. The battle of Barnet, between king Edward and the earl of Warwick; in which the latter was defeated and ſlain: (Eaſter-Sunday) 14th April 1471.
• 15. The battle of Tewksbury, between king Edward and queen Margaret; in which the latter was defeated and made priſoner: 3d May 1471.

p. 30.

So juſt is God, to right the innocent.

"Q. Mar. So juſt is God, &c.] This line ſhould be given to Edward IVth's queen. WARBURTON."

[132] It is given to her in both folios. Where was the occa⯑ſion for a note?

p. 33.

Why ſtrew'ſt thou ſugar on that bottled ſpider.

"A ſpider," ſays dr. Johnſon, "is called bottled, be⯑cauſe, like other inſects, he has a middle ſlender, and a belly protuberant."

A moſt rational and ſatisfactory explanation, — very little worſe than none at all. A bottled ſpider is the large bloated ſpider with a deep black ſhining ſkin, generally eſteemed the moſt venemous.

p. 34.

The folios read: ‘Witneſs my Sonne —’ Her distreſs cannot prevent her quibbling.

It may be here remarked that the introduction of Mar⯑garet in this place is againſt all historical evidence. She was ranſomed and ſent to France ſoon after Tewksbury fight, and there paſsed the remainder of her wretched life.

p. 61.

Hear you the news abroad?

Yes, that the king is dead.

Ill news by'r lady; ſeldom comes a better.

This is noted by Ray as a proverbial ſaying.

p. 63.

Thus the preſent editors. The folio reads:

Much to the metrical advantage, one would think, of the firſt line. But the gentlemen who took upon them to make the transpoſition (of which they have not, by the way, been pleaſed to give the ſlighteſt intimation) juſt knew that Stony-Stratford was a ſtage nearer London than North⯑hampton; and that was all. Had they condeſcended to conſult the history, they would have found that the prince and his company did, in their way to London, actually lye at Stony-Stratford one night, and were the next morning taken back, by the duke of Gloucester, to North⯑hampton, where they lay the following night. See Hall. Ed. V. fo. 6.

p. 64.

A parlous boy:—Go to, you are too ſhrewd.

Good madam, be not angry with the child.

Parlous, mr. Steevens ſays, is ſhrewd. It is a corruption of perilous, dangerous; the ſenſe it has here. The queen evidently means to chide him.

p. 65.

Who hath committed them?

The mighty dukes, Gloster and Buckingham.

For what offence?

"For what offence?] The question is given to the arch⯑biſhop in former copies, but the meſſenger plainly ſpeaks to the queen or dutcheſs. JOHNSON."

The learned critic has therefor made the change. And thus are the words and meaning of Shakſpeare altered, corrupted, and injured, through the indolence and preſump⯑tion of his editors and commentators. The old editions not onely give the question to the archbiſhop, but make it plain that the meſſenger ſpeaks to no other perſon. They read: ‘Is all unknown to me, my gracious lord.’

p. 94.

Gle. Touch'd you the bastardy of Edwards children?

Buck. I did; with his contract with lady Lucy.

The king had been familiar with this lady before his mar⯑riage, to obſtruct which his mother alledged a precontract between them; "whervpon," ſays the historian, "dame Elizabeth Lucye was ſente for and albeit ſhe was by the kyng hys mother and many other put in good comfort to affirme y^t ſhe was aſſured to the kynge, yet when ſhe was ſolempny ſworne to ſay y^t truth ſhe confeſsed ſhe was ne [...]er enſured. Howbeit ſhe ſayd, his grace ſpake ſuche l [...]uing wordes to her, that ſhe verely hoped that he would have maried her, and that yf ſuch kynde woordes had not bone, ſhe woulde neuer haue ſhewed ſuch kindneſſe to him, to lette hym ſo kyndely gette her wyth chylde." Hall. Ed. V. fo. 19.

p. 97.

Enter Gloster above, between two Biſhops.] It ſhould ſeem, mr. Steevens ſays, from a former paſſage that theſe two cler⯑gymen, here called biſhops, were Dr. Shaw, and Friar Penker.

Gloucester tells Buckingham:

And Catesby has juſt informed him, that the duke is ‘— within, with two right reverend fathers:’

i. e. the two biſhops between whom he appears above, Dr. Shaw and friar Penker were the reverend fathers.

p. 115.

K. Rich. The ſon of Clarence have I pen'd up cloſe.

In Sheriffhutton caſtle: where he remained till the com⯑ing of Henry VII. who, immediately after the battle of Bosworth, ſent him to the Tower, and, ſome few years after, moſt treacherously and barbarously put him to death; being, from a total want of education and com⯑merce with mankind, ſo ignorant that he could not, ac⯑cording to Hall, discern a gooſe from a [...]apon. With this unfortunate young nobleman ended the male line of the illust [...]ious houſe of Plantagenet.

To ſir Richard Pole knight. This lady, at ſeventy years of age, without any legal proceſs, and for no crime but her relation to the crown, was beheaded in the Tewer by that ſanguinary tyrant Henry VIII. Her ſon lord Mon⯑tag [...] had been put to death a few [...] cars [...], in the ſame manner, and for the ſame crime. And the famous cardinal [136]Pole, another of her children, onely eſcaped the fate of his mother and brother by keeping out of the butchers reach.

p. 132.

"Thus all the old copies. The modern ones read: ‘— with Heaven.’

I have reſtored the old reading, becauſe him (the ob⯑lique caſe of he) was anciently uſed for it, in a neutral ſenſe. STEEVENS."

The reſtoration was certainly juſt, though it is very doubtful that the reaſon here given in ſupport of it is ſo. The truth is that Shakſpeare makes Heaven a perſon.

p. 136.

What heir of York; i. e. What ſon of Richard duke of York?

p. 149.

They who read Halls account of this adventurer will be apt to attribute the fervency of his prayers rather to cowardice than to piety.

p. 161.

The old reading is—our mothers coſt, which mr. Theo⯑bald would alter to—his mothers coſt. Dr. Farmer ſays, that Holli [...]shed, whom Shakſpeare cloſely followed, has— [137]"brought up by my mothers means and mine." That Hollinshed copies verbatim from Hall, but by an error of the preſs, gives moother inſtead of brother as it is in Hall, and ought to be in Shakſpeare. The learned commentators ingenuity is unquestionable, though it has involved him in ſome little inconſistency. For, if mother, which Shakſpeare certainly wrote, ſhould be changed to brother, becauſe he was misled by the blunder of Hollinsheds printer, why is the word praeclariſſimus to be justifyed by the identical principle on which mother is condemned? (Hen. V. volume v. p. 169.)

p. 166.

Shakſpeare is not ſingular in ſuppoſing Henry to be the true repreſentative of the line of Lancaster. The tyrannous and bloody dispoſition of this monarch, and his immediate ſucceſſor (neither of whom was at all inferior in cruelty, and the firſt of them far ſuperior in craft and cunning to the monſter he dethroned), joined to the goodneſs of their title under the houſe of York, made it unſafe, and perhaps unneceſſary to canvas his deſcent. So that fear, flattery, neglect, and ignorance, ſeem to have eſtabliſhed the opi⯑nion which moſt of our historians, and people in general hold of Richmonds being what he here pretends to be. But he is an impostor: his great grandfather, John duke of Somerſet, from whom he derived the little title he had, was bastard ſon to John of Gaunt, and, though legitimated by act of parliament as to other purpoſes, utterly incapable of inheriting the crown. The right heir of the houſe of Lancaster, which, indeed, as oppoſed to the line of York, had not the ſmalleſt legal pretenſions to the throne, was [138]then, and ſtill is, in the royal family of Portugal, in virtue of its deſcent from the lady Philippa, eldeſt daughter to John of Gaunt.

p. 186.

"Council not then ſitting. JOHNSON."

"All mention of the board of council being left out of his letters. STEEVENS."

Neither, neither. Without adviſing with or conſulting the council: not ſuffering them to have any concern in the buſyneſs.

p. 212.

Yes, if I make my play.

That is, ſays mr. Steevens, if I make my party.—Rather, if I may chooſe my game.

p. 231.

"That is, our beſt poſſeſſion......In Spaniſh, hazi⯑enda. JOHNSON."

[139] People generally introduce ſcraps of a foreign language to ſhew their knowlege: the learned commentator brings this merely to display his want of it. For, let the word hazienda ſignify what it may, what has it to do here? Indeed, "the profeſsed critic, in order to furniſh his quota to the bookſeller, may write notes of nothing, that is notes which either explane things which do not want explanation, or ſuch as do not explane matters at all, but merely fill up ſo much paper:" a canon, of which dr. Johnſon has availed hisſelf pretty much in the manner of his predeceſſor dr. Warburton, who ſagaciously obſerves, that friends of my ſoul is a Spaniſh phraſe: Amigo de mi alma. Query, which of theſe two profeſsed critics has displayed the moſt learning and acuteneſs?

p. 240.

One would think it impoſſible to find a ſentiment ex⯑preſsed with greater accuracy. But hear dr. Johnſon:

"Challenge is here a verb [...] juris, a law term. The criminal, when he refuſes a juryman, ſays, I challenge him. I think there is a ſlight errour which deſtroys the connection, and would read:

Alas; how very eaſy it is for a great ſcholar to convert a fine expreſſion into downright nonſenſe!

p. 287.

Sir John Harrington, in his translation of Ariosto, has a ſimilar ſentiment:

The Latin proverb, he ſays, is, Scribit in marmore laeſus.

p. 352.

Herds of boils and plagues, to ſay the beſt of it, is a very ſtrange ſort of expreſſion. The old editions read: ‘You ſhames of Rome: you heard of byles and plagues.’ Which, thus regulated, is certainly right:

p. 374.

A letter for me? It gives me an eſtate of ſeven years health; .... the moſt ſovereign preſcription in Galen is but em⯑piric, and, to this preſervative, of no better effect than a horſe⯑drench.

The old copy, mr. Steevens tells us, reads—is but em⯑pirick qutique—of which, he ſays, the reader muſt make [...]. can.

[141] This, to be ſure, is one way for an editor to get rid of difficulties—by transferring them to his readers. The pre⯑ſent inſtance, however, fortunately happens to be none. The moſt ſovereign preſcription in Galen, ſays Menenius, is, to this news, but empiricutic:—an adjective evidently formed by the author from empiric (empirique, F.) a quack.

p. 378.

Ever right.

Menenius, ever, ever.

Mr. Tyrwhitt would rather read:

Ever right, Menenius.

Ever, ever.

But will not the change of a ſingle point have a more natural and ſpirited effect?

Ever right.

Menenius? ever, ever.

p. 379.

"A maukin or malkin," ſays one P. "is a kind of mop made of clouts for the uſe of ſweeping ovens: thence a frightful figure of clouts dreſsed up: thence a dirty wench."

Malkin is properly the diminutive of Mal, (Mary); as Wilkin, Tomkin, &c. In Scotland, pronounced Maukin, it ſignifies a hare. Grey malkin (corruptly, Grimalkin) is a cat. The kitchen malkin is juſt the ſame as the kitchen Madge or Beſs: the ſcullion. Master P. has exhibited her pedigree reverſed, and mistaken the effect for the cauſe.

p. 395.

You know the cauſe, ſirs, of my ſtanding here.

— tell us what hath brought you to't.

Mine own deſert.

Your own deſert?

Ay, not mine own deſire.

"The old copy—but mine own deſire. If but be the true reading, it muſt ſignify, as in the North—without. STEEVENS."

But is onely the reading of the firſt folio: Not is the true reading.

p. 479.

— I have been blown out of your gates with fighs; and conjure thee to pardon Rome, and thy petitionary country⯑men.

Your cannot be right. If the ſpeaker mean to call the gates Coriolanuses, which would ſeem very abſurd, he ought to ſay thy gates. It muſt be either our or their.

p. 5.

What trade, thou knave?

Nay, I beſeech you, ſir, be not out with me: yet if you be out, ſir, I can mend you.

What meaneſt thou by that? Mend me, thou ſaucy fellow?

[143] Mr. Theobald thinks it plain that this laſt ſpeech muſt be given to Flavius. But dr. Johnſon replaces Marullus, who, he ſays, might properly enough reply to a ſaucy ſentence di⯑rected to his colleague. The cobler tells Flavius that, if he be out, he can mend him. Can any thing, therefor, be more abſurd than for Marullus to abuſe the cobler for ſaying what he had not ſaid; that he could mend HIM? And yet does the critic pronounce his reply to be made properly enough! The hint, however, in the latter part of the note may incline one to give the firſt ſpeech to Marullus inſtead of transferring the laſt to Flavius.

p. 6.

That Tyber trembled underneath his banks.

"The old copies read—her banks. As Tyber is always repreſented by the figure of a man, the feminine gender is improper. STEEVENS."

This may be true, but it is the duty of an editor to give what his author actually wrote, and not what he ſhould have written.

p. 25.

The old editions read—Is Favors—of which ſome preced⯑ing editor made—Is fev'rous;—a much more ingenious and probable emendation ſurely than that adopted in the text.

p. 46.

And graves have yawn'd, and yielded up their dead.

I am afraid here is a profane alluſion to the following text of holy ſcripture (Goſpel according to St. Matthew, xxvii. 52.)

[144] "And the graves were opened, and many bodies of the ſaints which ſlept, aroſe, and came out of the graves, .... and went into the holy city, and appeared unto many."

It is ſomewhat remarkable that neither St. Luke nor St. John ſhould take the leaſt notice of this prodigious event. Even St. Mark, who onely copies or abridges St. Matthew, ſeems to have been fearful of truſting, in this particular, to his readers faith. COLLINS.

p. 48.

The old copies read heare, which Theobald changed into were. Upton, ſays mr. Steevens, would read we are: an emendation, which common ſenſe, as well as gramma⯑tical conſtruction, requires us to adopt. The pointing, likewiſe, demands a ſlight improvement.

p. 82.

On a ſmall island near Mutina.] In whatever place the triumvirs actually met, it is evident that Shakſpeare in⯑tended to place the ſcene in Rome.

p. 90.

You wrong me every way, you wrong me, Brutus.

The ſpirit of Caſſiuses expostulation would be, perhaps, better preſerved, if we were to point it thus: ‘You wrong me; every way you wrong me, Brutus.’

p. 95.

Mr. Steevens, after obſerving that this circumſtance is taken from Plutarch, and that it is alſo mentioned by Va⯑lerius Maximus, ſays: "It may not be amiſs to remark, that the death of Portia wants that foundation which has hitherto intitled her to a place in poetry, as a pattern of Roman fortitude. She is reported by Pliny, I think, to have died in Rome of a lingering illneſs while Brutus was abroad."

This, indeed, though a rather extraordinary, is a tole⯑rably eaſy method of overturning the credit of historians, and the exiſtence of an historical fact. But, ſurely, with all the ſubmiſſion to the learned and ingenious commentator, due authority of Plutarch and Valerius Maximus is ſome⯑what better than a vague idea of its being contradicted by Pliny.

p. 103.

Upon the right hand I, keep thou the left.

The tenour of the converſation evidently requires us to read—you.

p. 119.

"Of this tragedy," dr. Johnſon ſays, "many parti⯑cular paſſages deſerve regard ..... but I have never been ſtrongly agitated in peruſing it, and think it ſomewhat cold and unaffecting, &c."

This is a ſtrange charge. If nature have denyed to this great critic the ordinary feelings of humanity, is he there⯑for to accuſe the poet? Surely, dr. Johnſon is the onely perſon living who would not be aſhamed to declare hisſelf [146]inſenſible to the intereſting and pathetic ſcenes of this ad⯑mirable drama. So far from Shakſpeares adherence "to the real ſtory and to Roman manners" having "impeded the natural vigour of his genius," he ſeems to have riſen with the grandeur and importance of his ſubject; and, if there be any one play in theſe volumes which affects the heart more than the reſt it may be ſafely averred to be this of Julius Caeſar. And he who is not "agitated in peruſing it" may defy the powers of poetry to move him.

The characters or dogmatical criticiſms ſubjoined by the above learned philoſopher at the end of each play are gene⯑rally (as in the preſent inſtance) as unjuſt in theirſelves, as injurious to the immortal author; and, in many caſes, could onely proceed from one who either had not read the drama reviewed, or, from ſome natural defect, was inſen⯑ſible of its beauty and merit.

p. 130.

That is, ſays dr. Johnſon, if you had as many wombs as you will have w [...]ſhes, and I ſhould foretel all thoſe wiſhes, I ſhould foret [...]l a million of children. The text, as dr. Warbur⯑ton justly obſerves, is nonſenſe, and this explanation is as bad. She aſks the foothſayer how many children ſhe is to have: why, ſays he, if all your wiſhes had wombs, and [I [147]ſhould] foretel every wiſh, you would have a million. Ridicu⯑lous! Is that any anſwer to her queſtion? He does foretel how many ſhe will have. Dr. Warburton reads fertil, which reſtores ſenſe and ſpirit to the whole paſſage.

p. 142.

Notwithſtanding the ingenious comment upon this paſ⯑ſage by mr. Steevens, one may be ſtill inclined to think that Cleopatra means no more than—Is it poſſible that Fulvia ſhould dye? I will not believe it.

p. 153.

Mr. Seyward, ſays dr. Johnſon, in his preface to Beau⯑mont, has very elaborately endeavoured to prove that an arm-gaunt ſteed is a ſteed with lean-ſhoulders. Arm, adds he, is the Teutonic word for want, or poverty. "Arm gaunt may be therefore an old word, ſignifying lean for want, ill-fed. Edwards's obſervation, that a worn out horſe is not proper for Atlas to mount in battle, is impertinent: the horſe here mentioned ſeems to be a poſt-horſe, rather than a war⯑horſe."

It is ſomewhat remarkable that when this great critic is deſirous to introduce his own note on a paſſage whereon a much better has been already written, he ge⯑nerally begins his obſervation by ridiculing that of his predeceſſor. Mr. Seward, (not Seyward as dr. John⯑ſon, mr. Steevens, and mr. Malone, have every where [148]throughout this edition corrupted his name) explains the word arm-gaunt by thin ſhoulders, which, he ſays, is known to be one of the principal beauties of a horſe. And he adds that the epithet has, from the uncommon uſe of either part of the compound word in this [...]enſe, an antique dignity and grandeur in ſound that poets much delight in. (The reader will obſerve the difference between thin ſhoulders and lean ſhoulders; the former being a beauty, the latter a defect.) And this dr. Johnſon calls an elaborate endeavour to prove. Not recollecting that his own attempt is more elaborate, and much [...]ſs ingenious and ſucceſsful. Arm may be the Teu⯑toni [...] word for want; and yet one would like to have ſome better proof of its exiſtence than the bare dictum of one ſo little acquainted with ancient languages as dr. Johnſon is. And even when that is given we ſhould ſtill be glad to know how Shakſpeare came by it. Dr. Johnſons obſervation that this ſteed was a poſt horſe is "impertinent;" as a poſt⯑horſe would ſcareely have made any distinction between Antony and his groom: and yet the author repreſents it ſo proud of its burthen that its neigh ſilenced the by-ſtanders.

p. 190.

I have fair meaning, ſir.

And fair words to them.

The laſt word makes it evident that we ſhould read meanings.

p. 197.

This ſhould have been corrected to ‘The third part then is drunk: would it were all.’

p. 216.

Mec. And gives his potent regiment to a trull.

Trull, dr. Johnſon ſays, was not, in our authors time, a term of mere infamy, but a word of ſlight contempt, as wench is now. It may be difficult to know what the learned commentator conceives to be a term of mere infamy. But thus much is certain, that trull, in the age of Shak⯑ſpeare, ſignifyed a ſtrumpet, and ſo he uſes it.

p. 227.

Sword-dances at Chriſtmas are not peculiar to North⯑humberland; they are common to the adjoining counties; and are, not without the greateſt probability, ſuppoſed to have deſcended from the Romans ¹⁷. In theſe dances the ſword-points are generally over the ſhoulders of the per⯑formers. Antony means that Caeſar ſtood inactive with his ſword on his ſhoulder.

p. 266.

Let me lodge Lichas on the horns o'the moon.

Shakſpeare, mr. Steevens thinks, might have taken part of this imagery from Heywood's Silver age, 1613. If the Silver [150]age, however, were not printed before that year it is more likely that Shakſpeare furniſhed Heywood.

p. 277.

Brooch, ſays dr. Percy, is properly a bodkin or ſome ſuch inſtrument, originally a ſpit; and ladies bodkins, adds he, being headed with gems, it ſometimes ſtands for an orna⯑mental trinket or jewel in general; in which ſenſe, he ſays, it is, perhaps, uſed at preſent, or as probably in its original one for pinned up, &c.

A brooch is always an ornament; whether a buckle or pin for the breaſt, hat, or hair, or whatever other ſhape it may may aſſume. A broach is a ſpit: the ſpires of churches are likewiſe ſo called in the Northern couuties; as Darn⯑ton-broach. Brooch'd, in the text, certainly means adorn'd, as it has been properly explained by mr. Steevens.

p. 323.

How this lord is follow'd!

The ſenators of Athens;—Happy men!

Mr. Steevens would read—Happy man! thinking it the happineſs of Timon, and not that of the ſenators, upon which the poet means to exclaim. But the text is right. The poet envies or admires the felicity of the ſenators in [151]being Timons friends, and familiarly admitted to his table to partake of his good chear, and experience the effects of his bounty.

p. 324.

Either Shakſpeare, mr. Steevens ſays, meant to put a falſehood into the mouth of his poet, or had not yet thoroughly planned the character of Apemantus; for in the enſuing ſcenes his behaviour is cynical to Timon as to his followers.

The behaviour of Apemantus is juſtly repreſented, and yet the note might have been ſpared; the authors conſis⯑tency being liable to no charge. The poet, ſeeing that Apemantus paid frequent viſits to Timon, naturally con⯑cluded that he was equally courteous with his other gueſts. The critic, indeed, knows the contrary, but the ſpeaker did not.

p. 326.

The ſenſe would be certainly improved by reading thus:

p. 361.

[152] This is perfectly unintelligible. "So, however," ſays dr. Johnſon, "the original." The later editions, he tells us, have all: ‘— made you miniſter.’ Which is right. It is the reading of the ſecond folio.

p. 362.

The old editions read ‘Though you hear now (too late) yet now's a time.’

That is, according to dr. Warburton, "Though it be now too late to retrieve your former fortunes, yet it is not too late to prevent, by the aſſiſtance of your friends, your future miſeries." Sir T. Hanmer, it ſeems, made the al⯑teration, which, though undoubtedly wrong, dr. Johnſon thought right, and admitted into his text. The old read⯑ing, however, is not properly explained by dr. Warburton. Though I tell you this, ſays Flavius, at too late a period, perhaps, for the information to be of ſervice to you, yet late as it is, it is neceſſary that you ſhould be acquainted with it. It is evident that the ſteward had very little hope of aſſistance from his masters friends.

p. 380.

Yes, mine's three thouſand crowns: what's yours?

Five thouſand mine.

Dr. Johnſon, whoſe underſtanding frequently ſtarts at the plaineſt paſſage, and makes thoſe who have little of [153]their own, imagine difficulties where there are none, aſks if this ſhould not be, elſe, ſurely, mine had equall'd. The anſwer is eaſy: it ſhould not. Mr. Malone has, indeed, undertaken to justify the text; and given a long note upon it, which HE may poſſibly underſtand. Without taking further notice, however, of his ſee-ſaw conjectures, the meaning of the paſſage is evidently and ſimply this: Your master, it ſeems, had more confidence in lord Timon than mine, otherwiſe, his (i. e. my masters) debt (i. e. the money due to him from Timon) would, certainly, have been as great as your masters (i. e. as the money which Timen owes to your master);—that is, my master, being as rich as yours, could and would have advanced Timon as large a ſum as your master has advanced him, if he (i. e. my master) had thought it prudent to do ſo.

p. 397.

The ſenſe, according to mr. Steevens, is Go, maid with ſecurity to thy masters bed, for thy miſtreſs is a bawd to thy amours. This is not altogether ſo clear. One would father ſuppoſe it to mean that the mistreſs frequented the brothel; and ſo ſir T. Hanmer underſtood it.

p. 411.

The folios read barne, and not improperly. En is a com⯑mon termination of a Saxon plural; which we, in num⯑berleſs inſtances, retain to this day. The word is to be [154]explained by bars, but ſhould not (though dr. Warburton calls it ſtrange nonſenſe) have been removed from the text.

p. 429.

Would not this ingenious remark be much improved by reading,—Apemantus advances backward? Like the exer⯑ciſe of the city militia:—"Advance three paces back⯑wards!"

The editors have, here and there, indulged us with a few of theſe little marginal pleaſantries, which would not make a bad figure together. The reader may take a ſpe⯑cimen:

• Exit Com. and Men. (vii. 465.)
• Exit Worcester and Vernon. (v. 405.)
• Enter Mortimer, brought in a chair. (v. 220.)
• Exit Clown, Autolycus, Dorcas, and Mopſa. (iv. 392.)
• Exit the queen, and Hamlet dragging in Polonius. (x. 332.)
• Exit &c. (x. 509.)

p. 440.

Scene II. — Enter Poet and Painter.] "The Poet and the Painter were within view when Apemantus parted from Timon, and might then have ſeen Timon, ſince Apemantus, ſtanding by him could ſee them: But the ſcenes of the thieves and ſteward have paſsed before their arrival, and yet paſsed, as the drama is now con⯑ducted, within their view. It might be ſuſpected, that ſome ſcenes are transpoſed, for all theſe difficulties would be removed by introducing the Poet and Painter firſt, and the thieves in this place. Yet I am afraid the ſcenes muſt keep their preſent order; for the Painter alludes to [155]the thieves when he ſays, he likewiſe enriched poor ſtrag⯑gling ſoldiers with great quantity. This impropriety is now heightened by placing the thieves in one act, and the Poet and Painter in another: but it muſt be remem⯑bered, that in the original edition this play is not divided into ſeparate acts, ſo that the preſent distribution is arbi⯑trary, and may be changed if any convenience can be gained, or impropriety obviated by alteration. JOHNSON."

Had the learned critic peruſed the ſmall remainder of the Painters ſpeech, he would have perceived another incongruity, of which he does not ſeem to be aware. In the immediately preceding ſcene (the firſt of the fifth act) Flavius, Timons ſteward, has a conference with his master, and receives gold from him. Between this and the preſent ſcene, a ſingle minute cannot be ſuppoſed to paſs; and yet the Painter tells his companion:—'tis ſaid, he gave his ſteward a mighty ſum. Where was it ſaid? Why in Athens, whence, it muſt therefor ſeem, they are but newly come. Here then ſhould be fixed the commencement of the fifth act, in order to allow time for Flavius to return to the city, and for rumour to publiſh his adventure with Timon. But how are we, in this caſe, to account for Apemantuses announcing the approach of the Poet and Painter in the laſt ſcene of the preceding act, and before the thieves appear? It is poſſible that, when this play was abridged for repreſentation, all be⯑tween this paſſage and the entrance of the Poet and Painter, may have been omitted by the players, and theſe words put into the mouth of Apemantus to introduce them: and that when it was publiſhed at large, the interpolation was un⯑noticed. Or, if we allow the Poet and the Painter to ſee Apemantus, it may be conjectured that they did not think his preſence neceſſary at their interview with Timon, and had therefor returned back into the city.

p. 452.

Dr. Warburton propoſes rear'd for read, and ſays, that the ſoldier had onely ſeen the rude heap of earth. But dr. Johnſon, who ſeems to have thought, that the chief part of his buſy⯑neſs conſiſted in a totis viribus oppoſition to the moſt judi⯑cious improvements of preceding commentators, and that there is as much honour to be got by the demolition, as by the erection, of an elegant ſtructure, obſerves that the ſoldier "had evidently ſeen ſomething that told him Timon was dead; and what could tell that but his tomb? The tomb he ſees, and the inſcription upon it, which not being able to read, and finding none to read it for him, he ex⯑claims peeviſhly, ſome beaſt read this, for it muſt be read, and in this place it cannot be read by man."

Now with all proper deſerence to the misunderſtanding and confuſion under which the learned critic labours in the above note, it is evident that the ſoldier, when he firſt ſees the heap of earth does not know it to be a tomb. He con⯑cludes that Timon muſt be dead, becauſe he receives no an⯑ſwer. It is likewiſe evident that when he utters the words ſome beaſt, &c. he has not ſeen the inſcription. And dr. Warburtons emendation is therefor not onely juſt and happy, but abſolutely neceſſary. What can this heap of earth be? ſays the ſoldier. — Timon is certainly dead, ſome beaſt muſt have erected this for here does not [...]ive a man to do it,—Yes, he is dead, ſure enough, and this muſt be his grave. What is this writing upon it?

[159] Dr. Johnſon is not content with repreſenting the ſoldier as peeviſh; he makes him a perfect fool. For thus, ac⯑cording to the ſagacious commentators expoſition, will his ſoliloquy ſtand:—I cannot read theſe letters; I muſt get ſome beaſt to read them for me; for, read they muſt be; and read, in this place, they cannot be, by man! But, firſt, where was the ſo urgent neceſſity of the inſcription being read at all? and, ſecondly, why could no man read it where it was?

p. 477.

This paſſage convinces mr. Steevens, that this play was the work of one converſant with the Greek tragedies in their original language; and, therefor, not of Shakſpeare. "We have here," ſays he, "a plain alluſion to the Ajax of Sophocles, of which no translation was extant in the time of Shakſpeare." If the fact were true, of which, however, neither mr. Steevens, nor any man now living can be cer⯑tain ¹⁸, numbers of printed tracts, and even large vo⯑lumes, having periſhed ſince that period, as accidents and [158]the reſearches of antiquarians dayly prove, ſtill Shakſpeare might have been indebted for the circumſtance to ſome manuſcript verſion, or the information of a more learned friend. Or (as is very probable) the ſame alluſion may be contained in other old books. There are many expreſſions in the courſe of the play which do not prove the author to have been very familiar with the ancients. Among other inſtances which might be adduced, Marcus praiſes Lavinia for her excellent performance on the lute. And it will not be very eaſy to decide whether the characters, or, at leaſt, the times are Christian or Heathen.

p. 483.

Not I; till I have ſheath'd &c.

The editors have here adopted a transpoſition made by dr. Warburton, for which there is not the leaſt reaſon. Onely the matter is not of ſufficient conſequence to dwell upon.

p. 484.

Suffolk, in the Firſt part of king Henry VI. makes uſe of almoſt the ſame words:

How much or how little ſoever this may ſerve to prove, if facts and evidence be to determine our judgement, there cannot remain a doubt that this play of Titus Andronicus is as much Shakſpeares as any other in this collection. It is not onely given to him by Mer [...]s, but is printed as his by the [159]editors of the firſt folio, his fellow comedians and intimate friends, who neither could have been deceived theirſelves, nor could or would have deceived the public.

p. 26.

So, ſays dr. Johnſon, read both the old editions, for which, adds he, the later editors have [...]orly given: ‘— the ſoul's joy lies in doing.’

Whatever may be the poverty of the expreſſion, it did not originate with the later editors. It is the reading of the ſecond folio.

p. 51.

No more words, Therſites; peace.

I will hold my peace when Achilles' brach bids me, ſhall I?

The folio and quarto editions, it ſeems, read brooch, which leads dr. Johnſon to think the meaning equivalent to one of Achilles' hangers-on. Mr. Malone, who, it muſt be confeſsed, generally comes foreward to a very good or uſeful purpoſe, obſerves that Brooch had ſome meaning at preſent unknown. For, ſays he, in the following paſſage [160]in Lodges Roſalynde, 1592, it ſeems to ſignify ſomething very different from a pin or a bodkin: "His bonnet was green, whereon ſtood a copper brooch with the picture of St. Dennis." A brooch is an ornament; likewiſe a buckle of uncommon workmanſhip, for the hat or breaſt. Such a one as had an image or figure of St. Dennis upon it, would probably conceal the pin or prong, which kept it faſt to the hat or girdle. K. Lewis the eleventh of France generally wore a leaden figure of St. Andrew in his hat, which, perhaps, anſwered the purpoſe of a brooch or buckle.

Thus, in Loves Labour Loſt (ii. 509):

St. George's half cheek in a brooch.

Ay, and in a brooch of lead.

Ay, and worn in the cap of a tooth-drawer.

Brach is certainly the true reading.

p. 55.

Sieve, it ſeems, is in the quarto. The folio, according to dr. Johnſon, reads ‘— unreſpective ſame [ſame];’ for which, he ſays, the modern editors have ſilently printed, ‘— unreſpective place.’

The learned commentator is ſo perfectly acquainted with the old copies that it is wonderful to find an ancient read⯑ing eſcape him! Place, however, cannot well be the ſilent interpolation of a modern editor, as it is to be found in the ſecond folio.

p. 62.

Why am I a fool?

Make that demand of the prover.

So, ſays dr. Johnſon, the quarto. The folio, adds mr. Steevens, profanely reads—of thy [to the] Creator. This would be intelligible, however, which the adopted reading is not. And as to any profaneneſs there may be in the words rejected, which every perſon may not ſo readyly dis⯑cover, the author is anſwerable for it, not the editor.

p. 73.

What exploit's in hand? where ſups he to night?

Nay, but my lord,—

What ſays my ſweet queen? My couſin will fall out with you.

You muſt not know where he ſups.

I'll lay my life, with my dispoſer Creſſida.

No, no, no ſuch matter, you are wide; come, your dispoſer is fick.

Dispoſer dr. Warburton thinks ſhould in both places be dispouſer; ſhe that would ſeparate Helen from Paris. Dr. Johnſon does not underſtand the word, nor know what to ſubſtitute in its place. He ſays, there is no variation in the copies. Mr. Steevens ſuſpects that you muſt not know when he ſups, ſhould be added to the ſpeech of Pandarus; and that the following one of Paris ſhould be given to Helen. He thinks that dispoſer ſhould be changed into depoſer; and ſuppoſes that ſhe addreſses herſelf to Pandarus, and, by de⯑poſer, means—ſhe who thinks her beauty (or, whoſe beauty you ſuppoſe) to be ſuperior to mine.

Mr. Steevenses conjecture is very ingenious and happy, but the propriety of his explanation is very doubtful. The dialogue ſhould, perhaps, be regulated thus:

— where ſups he to night?

Nay, but my lord —

What ſays my ſweet queen?

My couſin will fall out with you.

You muſt not know where he ſups.

I'll lay my life with my depoſer Creſſida.

She calls Creſſida her depoſer, not for either of the rea⯑ſons aſſigned by mr. Steevens, but becauſe ſhe had depoſed her in the affections of Troilus, whom Fandarus, in a pre⯑ceding ſcene, is ready to ſwear ſhe lov'd more than Paris.

Dr. Johnſon mistakes in aſſerting the uniformity of the the copies. The ſecond folio reads the fifth ſpeech thus: ‘Pan. With my dispoſer Creſſida.’

p. 75.

Oh! oh! groans out for ha! ha! ha! Hey ho!

Hey ho.] This exclamation is thus added in the folio to the preceding line: ‘O ho grones out for ha ha ha—hey ho.’ But the interjection is certainly no part of the ſong: and conſequently ſhould not appear in the ſame character: it is uttered by Pandarus after he has done ſinging. This is evident from Helens obſervation: ‘In love, i'faith, to the very tip of the noſe.’

p. 106.

Good, good, my lord; the ſecrets of neighbour Pandar.

This reading was firſt introduced by mr. Pope from the old quarto. The folio reads, ‘— the ſecrets of nature:’ which is, ſurely, preferable; neither the ſenſe nor the meaſure ſeeming to be much improved by the words adopted.

p. 114.

But why ſhould Diomed ſay, Let us make ready ſtraight? Was HE to tend with them on Hectors heels? Certainly not. Dio. has, therefor, crept in by mistake; the line either is part of Parises ſpeech, or belongs to Deiphobus, who is in company. As to Diomed, he neither goes along with them, nor has any thing to get ready:—he is now walking, with Troilus and Creſſida, toward the gate, on his way to the Grecian camp.

p. 115.

'Tis but early days?

Should not this be—early day?

p. 117.

May I, ſweet lady, beg a kiſs of you?

You may.

I do deſire it.

Why, beg then.

I am your debtor, claim it when 'tis due.

Never's my day and then a kiſs of you.

For the ſake of rime, dr. Johnſon ſays, we ſhould read: ‘Why beg two.’ "If you think kiſses worth begging beg more than one."

[164] Neither rime nor reaſon requires the alteration. Ulyſſes aſks her if he may beg a kiſs; ſhe ſays, he may; he then deſires it: ſhe bids him beg, which he does. The conſtruc⯑tion is plain enough; and if the rime be thought worth preſerving by a violence to the text we may read: ‘Why beg toe.’

The remainder, upon which the ſame learned commen⯑tator has given an unintelligible note, might be regulated thus:

Why then for Venus' ſake give me a kiſs.

Never's my day, and then a kiſs of you.

p. 124.

Whom muſt we anſwer?

The noble Menelaus.

This is rather a blunt way for a man to announce his⯑ſelf. Menelaus, indeed, does not appear to have been over and above well off in the article of friends, but, ſtill, he was not reduced to the neceſſity of being his own puffer. The ſpeech belongs to Aeneas.

p. 126.

I ſhall foreſtall thee, lord Ulyſſes, thou!

"Should we not read—though?—TYRWHITT."

"The repetition of thou! was anciently uſed by one who meant to inſult another. STEEVENS."

Yes;—but what has Ulyſſes ſaid or done, that Achilles ſhould mean to inſult him. Beſides, the ingenious critic ne [...]er [...]w the word thou! thus uſed after a proper name. Mr. Tyrwhitts propoſal ſhould certainly have been adopted.

" [...]ence brothel, lacquey!—] For brothel, the folio reads brother, err [...]neously for broker, as it ſtands at the end of the play, where the lines are repeated. JOHNSON."

Let us turn to the end of the play, and ſee what the critic ſays there.

"Hence, broker lacquey!—] So the quarto. The folio has brother. JOHNSON."

The concordance of the two comments is ſurpriſing.

After all, however, brothel lacquey ſeems the beſt reading; though broker is certainly (in this place) the reading of the folio.

p. 155.

Sculls and ſhoals have not only one and the ſame mean⯑ing, but are, actually, or at leaſt originally, one and the ſame word. A ſcull of herrings (and it is to theſe fiſh that the ſpeaker alludes), ſo termed on the coaſt of Norfolk and Suffolk, is elſewhere called a ſhoal.

p. 162.

A ſtickler, mr. Steevens tells us, was one who ſtood by to part the combatants, &c. They are called ſticklers, he ſays, from carrying ſticks or ſtaves in their hands. It is not here meant to question the propriety of mr. Steevenses ex⯑planation of the word: but the nature of the Engliſh lan⯑guage cannot poſſibly allow the derivation of ſlickler from ſtick, with which, as a word, it has not the remoteſt con⯑nection. [166]Beſides, the giving ſticks or ſtaves to the ſeconds or ſideſmen ſeems a mere gratis-dictum, for which the in⯑genious critic can have no authority, but ſuch as he may be able to produce from the practice of Paris-garden. Stickler is, ſimply, from the verb ſtickle, to interfere, to take part with, to buſy ones ſelf on either ſide.

p. 175.

You ſpeak him far.

I do extend him, ſir, within himſelf.

Surely we ſhould read fair. It is the ſound which the other takes occaſion to play upon.

p. 176.

A glaſs that ſeated them.

Dr. Johnſon, in his note upon this paſſage, is certainly wrong in ſaying that Mirrour of Knighthood does not give the idea of a glaſs, but of an example. Miroir de Chevalerie, Sp [...]cc [...]io di cavalleria, Eſpejo de cavallerias, are all a looking⯑glaſs for chi [...]alry. And ſo is the word properly rendered in our Engliſh verſions of the history of Don Quixote, who is called "a looking-glaſs, in which all the valiant knights of the world may behold themſelves." But one might be glad to know who ever ſtiled Don Bellianis the Morrour of Knighthood before dr. Johnſon.

p. 306.

"Carle is uſed by our old writers in oppoſition to a gen⯑tleman. See the poem of John the Reeve. PERCY."

It is a very common, but, at the ſame time, a very unreaſonable practice in commentators and others, to bid their readers ſee this or that ſcarce book, of which it is, as they well know, frequently impoſſible for them to pro⯑cure a ſight. But never was this abſurdity carryed to ſuch an extent of mockery as it is in the preſent inſtance; where the learned prelate very coolly orders us to inſpect a poem, onely extant, as he is well aſſured, and has elſe⯑where told us, in a certain FOLIO MS in his own poſſeſ⯑ſion, which, perhaps, no one ever ſaw, and which (if it really exiſt) he will, for his own ſake, take effectual care that no one ſhall ſee.

Carl or churl (Ceopl, Sax.) is a clown, or husbandman.

p. 365.

Is it no more but this? a tardineſs in nature.

Theſe two words (no more) ſeem to be introduced or preſerved merely to ſpoil the meaſure. They are not in either folio.

p. 372.

[168] To do upon the gad, ſays dr. Johnſon, is, to act by the ſudden ſtimulation of caprice, as cattle run madding when they are ſtung by the gad-fly.

This indeed is a mode of explanation which requires very little knowlege of ones author. It ſhould not ſe [...]m that cattle, ſtung by the gad-fly, are actuated by caprice, but whether or not is a circumſtance foreign to the purpoſe. A thing done upon the gad is—done ſuddenly, or (as be⯑fore) while the iron is hot. A gad is an iron ba [...]. So in I'll never leave th [...]e, a Scotiſh ſong, by Allan Ramſay: ‘Bid iceſhogles hammer red gads on the ſtuddy.’

p. 415.

You .... take vanity the puppets part againſt the royalty of her father.

"Alluding," ſays dr. Johnſon, "to the mysteries or al⯑legorical ſhews, in which vanity, iniquity, and other vices were perſonified."

The deſcription is applicable onely to the old Moralities, between which and the mysteries there was an eſſential dif⯑ference, of which the learned commentator does not ſeem to have been aware.

p. 427.

This dr. Johnſon explains: "As Edgar I am out⯑lawed, dead in law; I have no longer any political exis⯑tence." And, ſurely, nothing can be more completely ridiculous. Outlawry is the effect of many legal pro⯑ceedings in the ordinary courſe of juſtice, and neither the ſpeaker, nor the author can have the leaſt alluſion to it. [169]The critics idea is both too complex and too puerile for one in Edgars ſituation. He is purſued, it ſeems, and pro⯑claimed, i. e. a reward has been offered for taking or kill⯑ing him. In aſſuming this character, ſays he, I may pre⯑ſerve myſelf; as Edgar I am inevitably gone.

p. 479.

Come o'er the bourn, Beſsy, to me.

We ſhould certainly read burn. The fools reply does not ſeem to have been any part of the original ſong; which is here given from an ancient MS. in the writers poſſeſſion, where it is attended with the muſical notes for three voices.

p. 480.

Mr. Steevens thinks that minikin has been a term of en⯑dearment. But it onely means ſmall, little, ſlender, as has been already obſerved (p. 44). Thy minikin mouth implies, thy little (and, therefor, perhaps, pretty) mouth.

p. 482.

Hound or ſpaniel, brache, or lym.

A lym ſeems to have been a large dog of the ſpaniel kind.

Again: ‘His Ly [...] laid on his back, he couching down.’

See the portrait of ſir Johns faithful and favourite ſer⯑vant Bungay at the bottom of the engraved title. The word differently ſpelled, occurs again, p. 349.

p. 483.

Mr. Strevens ſeems rather to ſtrain this laſt expreſſion in explaining it to be a private addreſs from Edgar to hisſelf: "I can no more: all my materials for ſustaining the cha⯑racter of poor Tom are now exhauſted." His horn was what he carryed his liquor in. And there is no neceſſity either for making him ſpeak the words aſide, or for giving them an allegorical ſignification. And even ſuppoſing the latter probable, they need onely mean I can no more, or I have nothing left to ſay; the company, if they attended to him, would take the phraſe in its moſt obvious and ſimple ſenſe, i. e. that he had nothing to drink.

Dr. Johnſon is, ſurely, right in ſuppoſing that ſeſsy is a co [...]ption of ceſſez, be quiet, ſtop, hold, let alone. It is ſo uſed by Christofero Sly, the drunken tinker, in the Tan [...]ing of a Shrew: and by Edgar hisſelf, in a preceding ſcene.—Dolphin, my boy, Seſſy; let him trot by. But it [171]does not ſeem equally clear that it has been corrupted into ſo, ſo. Mr. Steevens would have it to mean Siſſy (Cecilia) which is certainly wrong.

p. 506.

[Aſide.] One way I like this well.

"Goneril," dr. Johnſon obſerves, "is well pleaſed that Cornwall is deſtroyed who was preparing war againſt her and her husband, but is afraid of loſing Edmund to the widow."

It does not appear that Cornwall was making any hos⯑tile preparations againſt Albany. On the contrary, in act III. ſcene viii. Goneril is on a viſit to Cornwall, who diſpatches her with amicable letters to her husband. She is glad to hear of Cornwalls death, becauſe, by her ſisters, now rendered leſs difficult to compaſs, ſhe could poſſeſs the whole kingdom.

p. 513.

Lord Edmund ſpake not with your lady at home?

No, madam.

The folio reads your lord; but, ſays dr. Johnſon, lady is the firſt and better reading. If the learned critic had not been too indolent to look back, a few pages, to the ſecond ſcene of this act, he would have found that, though lady may be the firſt and better reading, lord is the true and right one. For Goneril not onely converſes with lord Edmund, in the ſtewards preſence, but prevents him from ſpeaking to, or even ſeeing her husband.

p. 535.

The folio, mr. Steevens obſerves, gives theſe four lines to a gentleman. The quartos, it ſeems, distribute them very differently. But the ingenious critic will recollect that in the folio, the gentleman and (as he is here called) the phyſician is one and the ſame perſon: a circumſtance he does not appear to have at all attended to.

p. 547.

"The reſolute John Florio," dr. Farmer ſays, "has ſadly mistaken theſe goujeers. He writes with a good yeare to thee!" and gives it in Italian, "Il mal' anno che dio ti dia."

But does the ingenious commentator really ſuppoſe that John meant a bleſsing inſtead of a curſe? In fact, the pedant is guilty of no mistake:—that he intended theſe very gou⯑jeers is evident from the folio of Shakſpeare, where it is ſaid, ‘The good yeares ſhall devour them.’ And this was the uſual ſpelling of that age.

p. 550.

Mean you to enjoy him?

The let alone lies not in your good will.

"Whether he [who?] ſhall not or ſhall [what?] de⯑pends not on your choice. JOHNSON."

This ingenious and occult annotation is grounded on and ſupported by CANON XV. which allows the profeſsed critic to "explane a difficult paſſage by words abſolutely unintelligible."

[173] There is not, it may be here obſerved, one of the Ca⯑nons which could not be properly illuſtrated and ſupported by numerous examples from the margin of the laſt edition.

Albany means to tell his wife, that, however ſhe might want the power, ſhe evidently did not want the inclination, to prevent the match.

p. 555.

Let us exchange charity.

"Our author," ſays dr. Johnſon, "by negligence gives his heathens the ſentiments and practices of christianity."

Does the learned critic mean to inſinuate that benevolence, or a forgiveneſs of injuries could not ſubſiſt without a be⯑lief in christianity? That heathens could not act like men? The contrary, it is believed, is ſo much a fact, that it would be no paradox to aſſirm, becauſe it might be very eaſyly proved, that all the moral virtues were better underſtood, and more regarded by Heathen Greece, and Pagan Rome, tha⯑they have been by any Christian ſtate ſince the invention or introduction of that ſystem. And what would the great philo⯑ſopher think, if it were to be made appear that the firſt Chris⯑tians borrowed (or, rather, ſtole, for they took without ac⯑knowlegement) all their morality from the profeſſors of Pa⯑ganiſm? Indeed it muſt be abſurd to ſuppoſe for a ſingle moment, that they who had more ſenſe than their ſucceſſors, had not, at leaſt, as much virtue.

p. 564.

The modern editors, mr. Steevens ſays, have ſuppoſed that Kent expires after he has repeated theſe two lines: [174]but the ſpeech, he thinks, rather appears to be meant for a deſpairing than a dying man; and, adds that, as the old editions give no marginal direction for his death, he has forborn to inſert any.

The conſtruction mr. Steevens puts upon Kents ſpeech is not meant to be disputed. But, it might have been as well, if, before he had charged his death upon the modern editors, and aſſerted that the old editions give no direction about it, he had conſulted thoſe editions. For nothing can be more certain than that the ſecond folio, at the end of this ſpeech, has the word Dyes in the margin:

The folios give the couplet thus:

p. 14.

— What ſadneſs lengthens Romeo's hours?

Nor having that, which, having makes them ſhort.

In love?

Out —

Of love?

Out of her favour, where I am in love.

"I," ſays dr. Percy, "take out not to be an imperfect part of a ſentence cut off by apoſiopeſis; but rather the interjec⯑tion [175]ſtill uſed in the north, where they ſay Out! much in the ſame ſenſe as we now ſay fye!"

Mr. Steevens very pertinently aſks the doctor why Romeo ſhould ſay fye! on being aſked if he were in love. But mr. Steevens gives no opinion.

It is evident that this word out (which is neither an in⯑terjection, nor cut off by apoſiopeſis) would, in caſe Romeo had not been interrupted, have been, as it is, the firſt of his following ſpeech: ‘Out of her favour, &c.’

p. 18.

Theſe happy maſks that kiſs fair ladies brows.

i. e. ſays mr. Steevens, the maſks worn by female ſpec⯑tators of the play. But this is by no means ſo certain. And there is little reaſon for thus forcing improprieties upon the author, of which he may not be guilty. Theſe or thoſe merely reſers to the maſks worn by ladies: Shakſpeare knew it to be a custom in London, and ſuppoſed it to be one in Verona.

p. 21.

Dr. Johnſon reads yeomen: which, though mr. Steevens does not agree with him, ſeems, at leaſt, to be the interpre⯑tation of young men: as theſe words are, perpetually, uſed for yeomen, in old writings. See particularly the legends of Robin Hood and Adam Bell. So, in a ſubſequent ſcene of this very play, yew trees are, in the old editions called, yong trees.

p. 34.

An alluſion to an old proverbial ſaying which adviſes to "give over, when the game is at the faireſt."

p. 40.

If all the old copies read bakes, which mr. Steevens ſays they do, what authority had mr. Pope to make the altera⯑tion? and why is it followed?

p. 44.

Nay, ſit, nay, ſit, good couſin Capulet.

This couſin Capulet, dr. Johnſon obſerves, is unkle in the paper of invitation; but as Capulet is deſcribed as old, conſin is probably, he ſays, the right word in both places.

Each reading is right in its place. Couſin was a com⯑mon expreſſion from one kinsman to another, out of the de⯑grees of parent and child, brother and ſister. Thus, in Hamlet, the king, his uncle and ſtep-father, addreſses him with, ‘But now my couſin Hamlet, and my ſon.’ And in this very play, act III. lady Capulet ſays, ‘Tybalt my couſin!—O my brothers child.’ So, in As you like it:

And Olivia, in the Twelfth Night, conſtantly calls her uncle Toby couſin.

p. 50.

Enter Chorus.] The uſe of this chorus, dr. Johnſon thinks, is not eaſyly discovered as it relates nothing but what is already known or what the next ſcene will ſhew. In⯑deed it ſeems to have been brought out merely to fill up part of the vacancy of time between the acts, inſtead of a piece of muſic. The groundlings of that age, like the rooflings of the preſent, would, doubleſs, be ever impatient to know what was to come next.

p. 52.

Mr. Steevens brings ſome inſtances from other authors to prove that Shakſpeare means humid: and mr. Malone, who is remarkable for the pertinence, propriety, and real importance of his learned and ingenious remarks, adds the following note:

"Again, in Meaſure for Meaſure: ‘"The vaporous night approaches."’

To prove, no doubt, that Shakſpeare, as he has here uſed humorous for humid, there uſes vaporous for vapid.

p. 53.

As maids, &c.] "After this line," ſays mr. Steevens, "in the quarto 1597, I find two other verſes, containing ſuch ribaldry, that I cannot venture to inſert them in the text, though I exhibit them here as a proof that either the poor or his friends knew ſometimes how to blot." Surely the [178]poet and his friends are under very little obligation to the ingenious commentator for producing an indecent paſſage which he ſuppoſes one or other of them to have already ſup⯑preſsed. But, after all, the learned editor is mistaken: for, deſpicable as the lines are, they were NOT blotted either by the poet or by his friends:—and if he will take the trouble of turning to either of the folios he will THERE find them.

p. 54.

He jeſts at ſcars, that never felt a wound.

That is, ſays dr. Johnſon, Mercutio jeſts (who has juſt left the ſcene and) whom he overheard. But, with all due ſubmiſſion, it does not appear that Romeo either did, or could, nor is there any occaſion that he ſhould, hear Mer⯑cutio. He (that perſon) jeſts, &c. is merely in alluſion to his having conceived hisſelf ſo armed with the love of Ro⯑ſaline, that no other beauty could make any impreſſion on him. This is clear from the converſation he has with Mer⯑cutio juſt before they go to Capulets.

p. 56.

There is, certainly, ſome obſcurity in this paſſage; which might, poſſibly be remov'd by reading: ‘Thou art thyſelf, though yet a Montague.’ Or, thus: ‘Thou art thyſelf, although a Montague.’

At leaſt, Juliets meaning ſeems to be, that though he was a Montague by name, and, therefor, her enemy, yet for his perſon and mind, i. e. as a man, ſhe might ſtill be [179]allowed to love him. Either of the above propoſed read⯑ings (which yet are only for the margin) ſeem as good as this, which dr. Johnſon thinks the true one: ‘Thou art thyſelf, then not a Montague.’

And certainly much better than this of Hanmer: ‘Thou 'rt not thyſelf ſo, though a Montague.’

The ſubſequent lines, which in the preſent edition ſtand thus:

and in the folio thus:

ſhould, perhaps, be thus regulated:

The words, nor any other part, which are in the quarto editions, ſeem to have been omitted in the folio by inad⯑vertency.

p. 57.

To prorogue, mr. Steevens obſerves, has not, in this place, its common ſignification, but means to delay. And what is its common ſignification, but to delay? When [180]the king prorogues the parliament, he only defers or puts off its meeting to a future day.

p. 65.

Holy St. Francis! &c.

"Old copy, Jeſu Maria! STEEVENS."

And why not this?

p. 68.

A pox of ſuch antick, liſping, affecting fantasticoes.

Thus the old copies, ſays mr. Steevens, and rightly. The modern editors, adds he, read phantaſies.

The folio, however, which is generally looked upon as an old copy, does NOT read fantasticoes; and Heminge and Condell, who are not uſually ranked among modern editors, read phantacies.

p. 78.

Doth not roſemary and Romeo begin with a letter?

Ay, nurſe; what of that? both with an R.

The old reading appears to be — R is for the no, I know it begins with ſome other letter. The alteration adopted was propoſed by mr. Tyrwhitt, and is certainly ſuperior to either dr. Warburtons (Thee? no) or dr. Johnſons (the nonce) not but the old reading is as good, if not better, when properly regulated, e. g.

In any caſe the long notes preceding mr. Tyrwhitts might be well ſpared, being now wholely impertinent to the text.

p. 83.

Alluding to the vulgar proverb: The more haſte the worſe ſpeed.

p. 84.

The old copies, according to mr. Steevens, read: ‘I cannot ſum up ſum of half my wealth:’ And: ‘I cannot ſum up ſome of half my wealth.’ The following would, therefor, be nearer the original read⯑ing, than the preſent text: ‘I cannot ſum up th' ſum of half my wealth.’

p. 99.

Mr. Steevens thinks the words woe and joy ſhould change places; otherwiſe, ſays he, her reaſoning is inconcluſive. The learned critic does not ſeem to have paid his uſual at⯑tention to the paſſage. The text is certainly right. Juliet ſays that ſhe has more reaſon to rejoice than to be ſorry at Tibalts death, and that therefor her tears are egregiously mistimed.

p. 100.

[182] "Hath put Tybalt out of my mind, as if out of being JOHNSON."

Out of being? why, where was he before? The true meaning is: I am more affected by Romeos baniſhment than I ſhould be by the death of ten thouſand ſuch relations as Tybalt.

p. 109.

"This is not," mr. Steevens ſays, "merely a poetical ſuppoſition. It is obſerved of the nightingale that, if un⯑disturbed, ſhe ſits and ſings upon the ſame tree for many weeks together."

It may be very true; but the learned critic will recollect that it can only be ſo of the he, and not of the ſhe nightin⯑gale: as the latter never ſings. The discovery is not, in⯑deed, of the age of Shakſpeare—but what of that?

p. 111.

Hunting thee hence with hunts up to the day.

The hunts up, mr. Steevens ſays, was the name of the tune anciently played to wake the hunters, and collect them together. And, in proof of it, he quotes a number of paſſages; to which, if the pleaſe, he may add the fol⯑lowing from Charles Cottons Virgil Travestie (which, in⯑deed, it is ſomewhat extraordinary he ſhould omit): ‘I'll play the rakehells ſuch a hunts up.’

There was likewiſe a little rude ſong, which, it is ſup⯑poſed was formerly in uſe on this occaſion, as we learn [183]from Puttenham, Art of Engliſh Poeſie, 1589. "One Gray," ſays he, "what good estimation did he grow into with king Henry [the eighth], and afterward with the duke of Somerſet protectour, for making certain merry ballades, whereof one chiefly was, The hunte is up, the hunte is up." Whether the following be the identical merry ballade, doth not clearly appear; it is, however, very old:

Master Gray was, probably, author of both words and muſic; and the tune may have remained in uſe, after the words were forgot.

p. 128.

Dr. Johnſon, with that candour and politeneſs for which he is ſo remarkable, obſerves, that Juliet plays moſt of her pranks under the appearance of religion. Perhaps, ſays he, Shakſpeare meant to puniſh her hypocriſy. If he had, we ſhould, without doubt, have been, ſome how or other, in⯑formed of it. But Shakſpeare would never have given the little innocent excuſes her virtue and conjugal fidelity prompt her to make uſe of ſo harſh a name.—Sweet Juliet! little did'ſt thou dream, that, in addition to thy misfortunes, the unſullyed purity of thy angelic mind ſhould, at this distance of time, be ſubject to the rude breath of criticiſm!—But reſt in peace, ſweet ſaint! thy [184]fair untained name ſhall live—live in thy Shakſpeares page—when even the critics memory is no more.

p. 136.

Mr. Steevens is willing to ſuppoſe that this paſsage may have been coarſely ridiculed in Deckers Satiromastix: ‘"Dead: ſhe's Death's bride; he hath her maidenhead."’

The ingenious commentator, who purſues ſuch objects with, perhaps, too much avidity, might have caught a much more likely hint in another place, from Juliets own mouth. The judicious reader, however, will find many opportunities to remark, that numerous expreſſions which are now degraded by vulgar currency, were perfectly in⯑nocent and polite in the age of Shakſpeare.

Ibi.

"Death is my ſon-in-law, &c.] The remaining part of the ſpeech I have reſtored from the quarto, 1609. STEEVENS."

It is unfortunate that the industrious editor did not know that the lines reſtored are in both the folios.

p. 139.

What will you give us?

No money, on my faith; but the gleek:

The uſe of this cant term is no where explained; and, in all probability, cannot at this distance of time be recovered. [185]To gleek, however, ſignifyed to put a joke or trick upon a perſon, perhaps, to jeſt, according to the coarſe humour of that age. So Bottom, Midſummor Nights Dream, act III. ſcene i.

Dumps were heavy mournful tunes; poſſibly, indeed, any ſort of movements were once ſo called, as we ſometimes meet with—a merry dump. Hence doleful dumps, deep ſorrow, or grievous affliction, as in the next page, and in the leſs ancient ballad of Chevy Chaſe. It is ſtill ſaid of a perſon uncommonly ſad, that he is in the dumps.

p. 141.

It is—muſick with her ſilver ſound, becauſe ſuch fellows as you have no gold for founding.

Inſtead of fellows, which is the reading of the old quarto in 1597, later editions, mr. Steevens obſerves, have mu⯑ſicians. "I ſhould ſuſpect," adds he, "that a fidler made the alteration."—But does the ingenious commentator really imagine that ſuch fellows were the editors of ſubſequent impreſſions, or had even power to alter the language of Shakſpeare whenever they were displeaſed at it? The change was, leſs doubtfully, made by the author, out of compliment to, or upon a remonſtrance from, the Gentle⯑men of the orchestra.

p. 145.

The firſt quarto, mr. Steevens informs us, reads: ‘"And ſtarved ſamine dwelleth in thy cheeks."’

[186] The quartos, 1599, 1609, and the folio, as in the text.

The modern editors, without authority: ‘"Need and oppreſſion ſtare within their eyes.’

The paſſage might, perhaps, be better regulated thus: ‘Need and oppreſſion ſtareth in thy eyes.’

For they cannot, properly, be ſaid to ſtarve in his eyes; though ſtarved famine may be allowed to dwell in his cheeks. Thy not thine is the reading of the folio. And thoſe who are converſant in our author, and eſpecially in the old co⯑pies, will ſcarcely notice the grammatical impropriety of the propoſed emendation.

p. 147.

That is, it was not a mere letter of compliment or cere⯑mony.

p. 150.

Thou detestable maw, thou womb of death.

Détestable is right. So Spenſer (Faerie Queen. I. i. 26): ‘That detestable ſight him much amaz'd.’

Which mr. Church has not been aſhamed to declare read better, "in his ear," detèſtable. Such an ear totally disqua⯑lifyed him for an editor of Spenſer.

The modern pronunciation has ariſen from vulgarity and ignorance: the word being not formed of the verb deteſt but derived from detestable, F. detestabilis, L. Thus, ad⯑mirable, comparable, &c.

[187] The words perſevere [perſever] and perſeverance are in the ſame predicament: always right in Shakſpeare; and always wrong at preſent.

p. 151.

The quarto, 1597, it ſeems, has: heap not. The quartos, 1599 and 1609, and all the folios:—Put not.— Mr. Rowe firſt made the change, which mr. Steevens (and we are much indebted both to his ſagacity and friendſhip) informs us, "may be discontinued at the readers pleaſure." The editors duty, however, and not the readers pleaſure ought to have determined the matter. The reader has it not in his power to discontinue any thing, but the peruſal of the book. Either of the other words would anſwer as well.

p. 152.

Dr. Johnſon thinks we ſhould read:

But how is certainly right and proper. Romeo had, juſt before, been in high ſpirits, a ſymptom, which he obſerves, was ſometimes called a lightning before death: but how, ſays he, (for no ſituation can exempt Shakſpeares characters from the vice of punning) can I term this ſal and gloomy proſpect a lightning.

p. 155.

This, again, is a quibble between the implement for⯑merly uſed by foot ſoldiers, and the certain quiet of a future ſtate.

The writer of theſe notes will here take occaſion to ob⯑ſerve, as one of the many great excellencies of this im⯑mortal bard, that no author, ancient or modern, ever ſa⯑crificed leſs to the reigning ſuperſtition of the time than hisſelf. Whatever may be the temporary religion, Popiſh or Protestant, Paganiſm or Christianity, if its profeſſors have the ſlighteſt regard for genius or virtue, Shakſpeare, the poet of nature, addicted to no ſystem of bigotry, will always be a favourite. There never was but one ſet of men who profeſsed open enmity to his name and writings, and they were, at the ſame time, the declared and moſt virulent enemies of literature and morality, in every ſhape: It is ſcarcely neceſſary to add the mention of the barbarous en⯑thuſiaſts of the laſt century; one, and perhaps the beſt founded of whoſe charges againſt that great and good mo⯑narch whom they ſo ſavagely murdered was—his intimacy with the writings of WILLIAM SHAKSPEARE!!!—The circumſtance would, at this time, at leaſt, paſs unnoticed in ſuch a miscreant as Cocke, to whom a hatred of letters was as natural as it was to his more illustrious predeceſſor Jack Cade:—but when we ſee Milton—the ſublime Milton—in⯑ſiſting upon the enormity of this amiable trait in the cha⯑racter of his murdered and libeled ſovereign—our con⯑tempt for and detestation of the act is equaled by our ſur⯑prize to find him the aſſaſſin!

p. 163.

Lau. I will be brief, &c.] Dr. Johnſon thinks it "much to be lamented that the poet did not conclude the dialogue with the action, and avoid a narrative of events which the audience already knew." It was neceſſary, however, that the ſurviving characters ſhould be made acquainted with the circumſtances which produce the catastrophe, and we ſhould have had more reaſon to condemn the poet for being brief than tedious. That our judicious author knew when to tell his ſtory behind the curtain, and when upon the ſtage, is evident from the next play; and it was, perhaps, to avoid a ſameneſs between the concluſion of that and preſent, that he has made the friar reveal the transaction to the audience; which naturally introduces the reconcili⯑ation of the two families and the moral reflections at the end of the ſcene, which, whatever the critic may think, are too valuable to be ſacrificed to his mere rule and com⯑paſs abridgement of it.

p. 165.

What kinsmen? Mercutio, doubtleſs, is one, and Ben⯑volio, we may preſume is the other. The line, therefor, which communicated the tidings of the latters death to the audience, p. 162. ‘And young Benvolio is deceaſed too,’ and which mr. Steevens rejects, as he ſuppoſes Shakſpeare to have done, "as unneceſſary ſlaughter," ſhould be re⯑ſtored to the text. His death ſhould ſeem to have been oc⯑caſioned by grief for the death of one friend, and the ba⯑niſhment [190]of the other: and we no where find that the prince was any way related to either the Capulets, or the Montagues.

p. 170.

By rivals the ſpeaker certainly means partners (according to dr. Warburtons explanation), or thoſe whom he expected to watch with him. Marcellus had watched with him be⯑fore; whether as a centinel, a volunteer, or from mere curioſity we do not learn: but whichever it was, it ſeems evident that his ſtation was on the ſame ſpot with Bernardo, and that there is no other centinel by them relieved. Poſ⯑ſibly Marcellus was an officer, whoſe duty it was to viſit each watch, and perhaps continue with it ſome time. Ho⯑ratio, as it appears, watches out of curioſity. But in act II. ſcene i. to Hamlets queſtion, Hold you the watch to⯑night? Horatio, Marcellus, and Bernardo, all anſwer, we do, my honour'd lord. The folio, indeed, reads both, which one may, with greater propriety, refer to Marcellus and Bernardo. If we did not find the latter gentleman in ſuch good company, we might have taken him to have been like [191]Francisco, whom he relieves, an honeſt, but common, ſol⯑dier. The ſtrange indiscriminate uſe of Italian and Roman names in this and other plays makes it obvious that the author was very little converſant in even the rudiments of either language.

p. 185.

But now, my couſin Hamlet and my ſon.

A little more than KIN and leſs than KIND.

i. e. we are, indeed, ſomewhat too nearly related, but our relationſhip ſavours very little either of nature or af⯑fection.

Why the page of Shakſpeare ſhould be loaded and dis⯑graced with ſuch a quantity of ill-founded and injudicious notes, is a question that every reader will find frequent oc⯑caſion to aſk. To any one acquainted with the language of Shakſpeare and of nature, the ſenſe of this paſſage was ſufficiently clear. Biſhop Warburton and dr. Johnſon, out of the abundance of their misunderſtanding, have done every thing in their power to confound it; and thoſe who look upon them to be the moſt intelligent and ſagacious of all poſſible critics, are naturally led to conceive difficul⯑ties which do not exiſt. Mr. Steevens has eſtabliſhed the true reading, and, if there be any neceſſity for a note, his, with a little alteration, ſhould alone remain, and all the others be conſigned to the oblivion they ſo well merit.

p. 188.

[192] "The crown of Denmark was elective. STEEVENS."

Whereever the learned commentator acquired this piece of knowlege, certain it is, that his quotation from Sir Clyo⯑mon proves no ſuch thing:

For it clearly appears, from this, that ſhe was to take the crown by hereditary right. The words in election im⯑plying no more than that ſhe had ſuch right by the election, the choſenneſs, the elevation of her rank and family. The king tells Hamlet that he is the moſt immediate to the throne, i. e. heir apparent, or, at leaſt, preſumptive heir, which would be abſurd, on an idea that the crown was elective. (See alſo the converſation of Laertes with his ſister, in ſcene iii.)

Impart moſt aſſuredly means profeſs myſelf, bear me to⯑wards you; and not what dr. Johnſon ſays, (i. e. communicate whatever I can beſtow) whoſe note, as well as mr. Steevenses, ſhould be entirely expunged.

p. 190.

A quibble between ordnance and eccleſiastical decrees. Mr. Steevens is an advocate for the former ſenſe; mr. Theobald for the latter. What happyneſs, what immortal glory, to be the conciliator of ſuch contending chieftains in criti⯑ciſm!

p. 210.

This pointing, which comes recommended by mr. Steevens, makes the moſt ingenious and abſolute nonſenſe of the whole paſſage. The folios read:

[193] Are of a moſt ſelect and generous cheff in that, without any punctuation. The genuine meaning of the paſſage requires us to point the line thus: ‘Are moſt ſelect and generous, chief in that.’

i. e. the nobility of France are ſelect and generous above all other nations, and chiefly in the point of apparel; the richneſs and elegance of their dreſs.

p. 208.

One of the quarto editions (and the editors have not con⯑deſcended to inform us that the paſſage is, in conſequence no doubt of the authors own alteration, omitted in the folios) reads ſcar, which dr. Johnſon thinks more proper. But dr. Johnſon did not, perhaps, know, neither does it appear that mr. Steevens could acquaint him, that the word ſtar, in the text, ſignifies a ſcar of that appearance. It is a term of farriery: the white ſtar or mark ſo common on the forehead of a dark coloured horſe is, according to another humane practice, peculiar, it is believed, to this generous country, uſually produced by making a ſcar on the place.

Ibi.

This muſt be allowed a very difficult, and perplexed paſſage. But as mr. Steevenses propoſed reading (doth all the noble ſubſtance oft do out), or rather, indeed, mr. Holts (Doth all the noble ſubſtance oft adopt), comes neareſt to the traces of the original

it ought to have been inſerted in preference to Theobalds. And the whole ſpeech, from the fourth line, ſhould have been thrown to the bottom of the page, or, perhaps, totally omitted, as apparently rejected, by the author, upon a reviſion of his play.

p. 214.

— To what iſſue will this come?

Something is rotten in the ſtate of Denmark.

Heaven will direct it.

"Perhaps," ſays dr. Farmer, "it may be more appoſite to read, heaven will detect it."

Horatio aſks to what iſſue this ſtrange buſyneſs will come, and not receiving any anſwer from Marcellus, at leaſt one to his purpoſe, very naturally adds, Heaven will direct or lead it. Dr. Farmer and Horatio ſeem to be thinking of two distinct ſubjects: the latter is reflecting upon the ap⯑pearance of the ghoſt; the former upon the rottenneſs of the ſtate.

p. 217.

Rots itſelf, is the reading of the two firſt folios; that of the quarto, mr. Steevens informs us (but as there are more quartos than one, we ſhould have been more obliged to him if he had told us to which he alludes, and what the others read), is roots: and mr. Pope followed it: though mr. Steevens thinks the ſuperiority of the preſent reading ap⯑parent. [195]"To be in a quiescent ſtate" he ſays, "(i. e. to root itſelf) affords an idea of activity." Very little activity, one would imagine, is neceſſary for the purpoſe of a weed rooting itsſelf; and that little is made almoſt none, when it roots itsſelf in eaſe. To rot, he thinks, better ſuits with the dullneſs and inaction to which the ghoſt refers." "And yet," adds he, "the accuſative caſe itſelf may ſeem to demand the verb roots." And with that reading the text would certainly be better. For, ſetting aſide the impro⯑priety of giving an octive ſignification to a neuter verb, it is far from being either neceſſary or even proper that the ghoſt ſhould have any alluſion to rottenneſs and decay: fat⯑neſs and ſtupidity being generally attended, at leaſt in this world, with a tolerable ſhare both of good health and of good fortune.

p. 231.

Good ſir, or ſo; or friend or gentleman.

This is the reading of all the old copies; and there is not a more plain, ſimple, certain ²⁰, and intelligible line in theſe ten volumes; nor one that has more exerciſed the attention and ingenuity of the learned and ſagacious commentators. Such readers as are better acquainted with Shakſpeare than with the modern improvements upon him, [196]will not be displeaſed to ſee a liſt of their ſeveral emenda⯑tions.

Dr. WARBURTON: Good ſir, or ſire, i. e. father.

Dr. JOHNSON: Good, ſir, forſooth, or friend or gentle⯑man.

Mr. STEEVENS: Good ſir, or ſo forth, friend or gentle⯑man.

Mr. TYRWHITT: Good ſir, or ſir, &c.

Each of theſe propoſals is recommended by a long note; and there is, beſides, a memoir by the reverend and learned dr. Percy, upon the word forſooth. Illustrious critics! how much is the ſpir [...]t of Shakſpeare indeb [...]ed to your unpa⯑ralleled generoſity, and unexampled friendſhip!

p. 236.

Bent dr. Warburton would have to be endeavour, appli⯑cation. He is wrong: it means, inclination, will, reſolution, deſire.

p. 238

Fee in this place, ſays mr. Steevens, ſignifies reward, re⯑compence. The word annual, however, might have in⯑clined him to find ſome other meaning for it. The king gave his nephew a feud or ſee (in land) of that yearly value. The folio reads the line thus: ‘Gives him three thouſand crowns in annual fee.’ [197]But mr. Theobald, and the preſent editors after him, thinking that too little for a prince, have very liberally (upon the credit of ſome of the old quarto editions) en⯑larged his income to 60,000. To be ſure the interpolation ſpoiled the meaſure: but as the critic has for this licence the authority of one of the CANONS, nothing is to be objected on that head.

p. 247.

— Conception is a bleſsing; but not as your daugh⯑ter may conceive.

This reading is not explained. Conception (underſtand⯑ing), ſays Hamlet, is a bleſsing, but the conception (preg⯑nancy) of your daughter would not be one.

p. 255.

— An aiery of little eyaſes —

Mr. Theobald had no ſuch mighty reaſon to plume his⯑ſelf on having done what is juſt equal to nothing at all: for Yaſes (the old reading), had he known how to pronounce it, would not have been round to differ, in any very ex⯑traordinary degree, from his moſt ſagacious emendation.

p. 258.

Then came each actor on his aſs.

This, ſays dr. Johnſon, ſeems to be a line of an old bal⯑lad. He has, therefor, cauſed it to be printed in the Italic character. But there appears no other ground for the ſuppoſition, than the good doctors opinion, which is not ſufficient in theſe matters to authoriſe an alteration in the type.

Ibi.

Pol. The beſt actors in the world, either for tragedy, comedy, history, pastoral, pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral, [tragical⯑historical, tragical-comical, historical-pastoral] ſcene undividable, &c.

"The words within the crotchets," ſays mr. Steevens, "I have recovered from the folio, and ſee no reaſon why they were hitherto omitted." But though the learned commen⯑tator could ſee no reaſon why the words were omitted before, his readers can ſee one why they ſhould be omitted now; viz. that the words historical-pastoral may not be abſurdly repeated. The truth is, that the industrious editor has en⯑tirely loſt the merit of his recovery, by the negligence of his printer: the folio properly reads: ‘— pastoral-comical, historical-pastoral, tragical-histo⯑rical, tragical-comical- historical-pastoral, &c.’

p. 259.

Ham. Why, as By lot, God-wot, &c.] The original bal⯑lad, in black-letter, is among Anthony à Woods collections in the Aſhmolean Muſeum.

p. 260.

O old friend! Why, thy face is valanc'd ſince I ſaw thee laſt; com'ſt thou to beard me in Denmark.

Valanc'd ſhould have been explained. It means over⯑hung with a canopy or teſier like a bed. The folios read valiant, which ſeems right. The comedian was, probably, "bearded like the pard."

p. 262.

Ham. — the play, I remember, pleaſ'd not the million; 'twas caviare to the general.

The discordant accounts given in this page will fully jus⯑tify the following quotation from a writer of ſenſe and veracity.

[199] "Caviare is made at Aſtracan of the rows of Sturgeon and Belluga, a large fiſh, about twelve or fifteen feet long, without ſcales, not unlike a ſturgeon, but more luſcious and large; his fleſh is whiter than veal, and more delicious than marrow. Of theſe two fiſhes they take great numbers only for their rows ſake, which they ſalt and preſs and put up into caſks; ſome they ſend unpreſs'd, and a little corn'd with ſalt, being accounted a great dainty." Preſent ſtate of Ruſſia, by dr. Collins, 1671, 12mo.

Hamlet ſeems to mean, that the play, like the pickled ſturgeon, was a delicacy for which the multitude had no reliſh; and, hereby, pays the ſaid multitude a compliment he did not intend; ſince it is hard to ſay, whether his tra⯑gedy or his caviare were the more ſtrange and unnatural food.

p. 268.

Mr. Upton and ſir John Hawkins think this expreſſion a plain alluſion to a paſſage in Plutarchs life of Pelopidas, which the latter has here quoted at length. This ſtory Shakſpeare had undoubtedly read in ſir Thomas Norths translation: but that he here alludes to it is not equally apparent. Hamlets obſervation merely relates, as the players grief did, to the bombaſt ſtuff about Hecuba which the latter had juſt done ſpouting.

p. 273.

Her father, and myſelf (lawful eſpials).

"The words—lawful eſpials, are WANTING in the FOLIO. STEEVENS"

[200] This is not altogether ſo certain. At leaſt both the firſt and ſecond folios appear to read: ‘Her father, and my ſelfe (LAWFULL ESPIALS).’

p. 278.

Groan.] Dr. Johnſon is for or againſt Shakſpeares own words juſt as it ſuits his purpoſe or inclination: if grunt (the reading of all the old copie [...]) be to be changed to groan merely becauſe (as he ſays) it can ſcarcely be borne by modern ears, Shakſpeare may be ſo transmografyed (how do your ears bear that, dr. Johnſon?) and frittered away, by his friendly editors, in the courſe of a few years, that, if he were to riſe from the dead, he could not poſſibly know his own work.

It may ſtill be a question how far dr. Farmers note re⯑moves the force or ground of lord Orrcrys objection.

A very ſimple perſon once obſerved, that it is rather ex⯑traordinary for Hamlet to ſay that no Traveler had ever re⯑turned [201]from this undiscovered country, when he has, a few moments before, had a long converſation with the ſpirit of his father, which had returned from it, for the ſole pur⯑poſe of ſpeaking to him.

Pith.] The quartos, it ſeems, have pitch, which is cer⯑tainly the better reading. The alluſion is to the pitching or throwing the bar;—a manly exerciſe, uſual in country villages.

p. 280.

You ſhould not have believ'd me: for virtue cannot ſo inoculate our old ſtock, but we ſhall reliſh of it.

Innocculate is the reading of the folios. The firſt quarto, according to mr. Steevens, reads euocutat; the ſecond, euacuat; and the third euacuate. So that evacuate appears to be the true reading. The word adopted renders the paſ⯑ſage abſolute nonſenſe.

p. 282.

Like ſweet bells jangled out of tune and harſh

Would it not be better to read time, with the quarto?

p. 285.

I would have ſuch a fellow whipp'd for o'er-doing Termagant; it out-herods Herod.

Dr. Percy (who has been long ſuſpected to deal a little too much in creatures of his own imagination) ſhould, at leaſt, have pointed out ſome one of the old Moralities in which this Saracen Deity of his is ſo clamorous and violent. "Grennyng upon her lyke Termagauntes in a play" (Bales Acts of Engliſh Votaries. Reliques, I. 77.), which is, [202]very probably, all the authority the learned dignitary had for his aſſertion, ſeems to mean no more than the behavi⯑our of thoſe fiends or imps, ſo frequently to be met with in the ancient Mysteries.

p. 289.

Though this be the reading of the two firſt folios, it is certainly much inferiour to the following, which mr. Steevens gives us from an old quarto:

Distinguiſh her election, is no more than make her election; Distinguiſh of men is exceeding harſh, to ſay the beſt of it.

p. 292.

O, your only jigmaker.

Mr. Steevens has clearly proved that jig in the authors time ſignifyed a ludicrous dialogue in metre, or a common [...]ulgar ballad; but he is as clearly wrong in aſſerting that it did not, at that time, ſignify a dance. He may be ſatisfyed of the fact, by onely turning over the next leaf, from his own note: ‘— tumbling dauncing of gigges.’

p. 292. b.

— let the devil wear black, for I'll have a ſuit of ſables.

[203] That a ſuit of ſables was a very rich dreſs, and that an equivoque is hardly intended, will appear from the following paſſage:

"I had rather," ſays honeſt Sancho, when he is taking leave of his government, "cover my ſelfe with a double ſheepe skinne, ..... then be clothed in Sables." Shelton, P. 2. p. 359. e. 1620. 4to.

p. 300.

Gonzago is the duke's name; his wife, Baptista.

Mr. — thinks that Baptista is, in Italian, the name always of a man. He is certainly right: Baptista, Battista, or Giam-battista, means no more or leſs than John the Baptiſt.

p. 302.

Would not this, ſir, and a foreſt of feathers and two provencial roſes on my rayed ſhoes.

After ſuch a concluſive note in ſupport of the old reading (raz'd or rac'd), why is mr. Popes capricious alteration ſtill ſuffered to uſurp a place in the text?

p. 304.

The firſt folio has paiocke, one of the quartos, it ſeems, and the ſecond folio pajecke, and another quarto paicocke. Mr. Theobald, in a very long note, contends that we ſhould read paddock, which he interprets a Toad. As this is a moſt groundleſs and abſurd conjecture, mr. Malone—be⯑lieves it to be the true reading! Alas, poor Shakſpeare!— [204] Peacock, however, is ſo certainly right, that the very cor⯑ruption of the old editions ſerves to confirm it:—the ſur⯑name Peacock, and, moſt probably, the bird itsſelf, is ſtill, in many parts of the country, called Paike. A paddock is a frog. Hamlets uſing that word afterwards is nothing to the purpoſe here. A peacock means a creature of no value but for its gawdy trappings: but Theobald is evidently right inſ [...]uppoſing that it is onely ſubſtituted for the word aſs.

p. 316.

[205] "This ſpeech," ſays dr. Johnſon, "in which Hamlet, re⯑preſented as a virtuous character, is not content with taking blood for blood, but contrives damnation for the man that he would puniſh, is too horrible to be read or to be uttered."

How far it detracts from the virtue of Hamlet to be repreſented as lying in wait for an opportunity to take an adequate and complete revenge upon the murderer of his father, is a question not, with ſubmiſſion to the great mo⯑raliſt, quite ſo eaſyly decided. The late king has reported hisſelf to have been deſtroyed in the moſt deliberate, horrid, and diabolical manner;

Under ſuch aggravated circumſtances, for Hamlet to be content with having what dr. Johnſon calls blood for blood, would have been taking an inadequate and imperfect revenge, and, conſequently, doing an act of injuſtice and impiety to the manes of his murdered parent. But, indeed, the reaſons Hamlet here gives for his conduct, as they are better than any other perſon can make for him, will fully justify both him and it, againſt all ſuch hypercritical op⯑poſition to the end of time.

p. 318.

This exclamation, which mr. Steevens thinks may be conſidered as ſome hint, that the queen had no hand in her [206]husbands murder, is as likely to proceed from ſurpriſed guilt, as conſcious innocence. There is, indeed, no direct proof before us, of her being acceſſory to the late kings death: but his referring her puniſhment

and her own confeſſion of the black and grained ſpots ſhe ſees in her very ſoul, which will not leave their tinct, do, ſurely, render her ſhare in that ſhocking transaction very ſuſpi⯑cious.

p. 321.

This is, certainly, the true reading. Hamlet means that the queen muſt have ſome kind of ſenſe, otherwiſe ſhe could not walk about, uſe her eyes, hands, &c. as ſhe was every day ſeen to do. Mr. Malones note (in which he explains motion by libidinous inclination), inſtead of throwing light upon the paſſage, does eſſential injury to it.

p. 325.

— A vice of kings,

The vice, ſays dr. Johnſon, is a low mimick, the foo of a farce, from whom the modern punch is deſcended. But, with a [...]l proper deference to ſo good a judge in theſe ma [...]ters, it is a much more probable conjecture that the facetious master Punch and his wife Joan are the tru⯑re re [...]entarives of thoſe distinguiſhed characters, in the old m [...]steries, Pontius Pilate and his dreaming lady. The [...], as we elſewhere read, had a dagger of lath (i. e. [207]a ſword of thin wood), and is very likely the genuine ances⯑tor of our more modern Harlequin. The fool of the Chriſt⯑mas gambols, in the North of Yorkſhire, is yet called the Vice.

p. 328.

This, dr. Johnſon tells us, is Hanmers reading; the other editions have it, ‘To puniſh me with this, and this with me.’

What thanks are due from every lover of Shakſpeare to theſe worthy editors for their conſtant and ſucceſsful edea⯑vours to preſerve his genuine text!

p. 329.

— a pair of reechy kiſſes.

Reechy is, here, not ſmoky, as mr. Steevens interprets it, but dirty and greaſy, like the appearance of a cook-wenches face, or chimney-bacon. This is, likewiſe, its meaning in Coriolanus:

p. 338.

The bark is ready, and the wind at help.

i. e. at hand, ready, ready to help or aſſiſt you. Dr. Johnſon ſuppoſes it ſhould be—the wind at helm.

p. 240.

[208] "Howe'er my haps, my joys will ne'er begin.] This being the termination of a ſcene, ſhould, according to our authors custom, be rhymed. Perhaps he wrote, ‘Howe'er my hopes, my joys are not begun. JOHNSON."’

"The folio reads, in confirmation of dr. Johnſons re⯑mark, — ‘Howe'er my haps, my joys were ne'er begun. STEEVENS."’

This is true: but is it not, at the ſame time, a con⯑cluſive proof either that dr. Johnſon never looked into the folio, or that he has aſcribed what he there found to his own ſagacity?

Something of this nature has been before obſerved. Dr. Johnſons captious readyneſs to question mr. Theobalds in⯑tegrity on ſimilar, though much more dubious, occaſions is a ſufficient justification of truth and candour to dwell on circumſtances which might, perhaps, otherwiſe have been left unnoticed.

p. 346.

Without doubt, ſays dr. Farmer, ‘Good morrow 'tis Saint Valentines day.’

The young lady comes to her ſweethearts window the day before: the chooſing of Valentines is always the buſyneſs of the vigil or eve.

p. 347.

By Gis, and by Saint Charity.

[209] Gis is, likely enough, a corruption of Jeſus. But ſurely it cannot be imagined that the letters l. H. S. on book backs, &c. could any way contribute to it.

p. 361.

The folio, mr. Steevens obſerves, inſtead of work reads would. And ſhould not the preſent edition have done ſo? Dr. Johnſon ſeems not to underſtand the paſſage: the king ſays that the common people would turn Hamlets faults into virtues, as ſtrange a perverſion, adds he, as that produced by the ſpring which changes wood to ſtone. The learned and ſagacious editor has a ſimilar property; but his alchemy only ſerves to convert gold to lead: he has a very ready knack at changing the moſt perfect ſenſe to the moſt abſo⯑lute nonſenſe.

p. 367.