Cljf Maths OP WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE. EXTENT or THE IMPRESSION. / hereby ceri 'ify that the impression of the present edition of Shahespeure has been strictly limited to One Hundred and Fifty copies, and that I am also under an engagement to furnish the Editor icith an exact account of the number of the icaste sheets. ^ In addition to the above certifcate of Mr. J. E. Adlard, it may be well to observe that it being my desire that the limitation of the impression should tje literally adhered to, I intend to number every copy of each volume, and to tal-e great care that not a single perfect copy of the icorJc shall be made up out of the waste sheets, which are the very few printed in excess to take the place of any that may be soiled or damaged. My only object in adhering so strictly to the limit is to protect, to their fullest extent, the interests of the original subscribers to the work, not from any views of excUisiveness. The pa])er on which this work is printed is of the best and most durable quahty, manufactured by Messrs. Dickinson and Co. Prospectus of a new Edition of Shakespeare, in TWENTY FOLIO VOL TIMES, corresponding in size with the convenient first collective edition of 1623, to suit numerous facsimiles to he made from that work. — Privately Printed, for Subscribers only. THE WOEKS OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE, WITH A iSeh) Collation of tfje carlg a^tritionjf, ALL THE ORIGINAL NOVELS AND TALES ON WHICH THE PLAYS ARE FOUNDED ; COPIOUS ARCH^OLOGICAL ILLUSTRATIONS TO EACH PLAY; AND A LIFE OF THE POET: BY JAMES 0. HALLIWELL, ESQ. F.R.S. HONORARY MEMBER OF THE IlOYAl IRISH ACADEMY; THE ROYAL SOCIETY OF LITERATURE ; THE NEWCASTLE ANTIQUARIAN society; THE ASHMOLEAN SOCIETY, AND OF THE SOCIETY FOR THE STUDY OF GOTHIC ARCHITECTURE ; FELLOW OF THE SOCIETY OF ANTIQUARIES ; CORRESPONDING MEMBER OF THE ANTIQUARIAN SOCIETIES OF SCOTLAND, POICTIERS, PICARDIE, AND CAEN (aOADEMIE DES SCIENCES), AND OF THE COMITE DES ARTS ET MONUMENTS, ETC. THE ILLUSTRATIONS BY AND UNDER THE DIRECTION OF F. W. FAIRHOLT, ESQ., F.S.A. AUTHOR OF "COSTUME IN ENGLAND", ETC. The Fourth Volume of this extensive work is now nearly completed, and the greatest exertions are being made to render it the most complete edition of any author ever produced in this country. The impression of the work is strictly limited to the small number of one hundred and fifty copies, each copy being numbered, and having the printer's and editor's autograph attestation. The plates and engravings are also guaranteed to he destroyed, so that the interests of the Subscribers must always be preserved, and the work become, exceedingly difficult to be procured. The paper used is of the finest possible quality and substance, manufactured expressly for the work by Messrs. Dickinson and Co. The few remaining copies are, at present, to be subscribed for at £4 : 4 per volume, under stringent conditions, or at £52:10 in advance. A few India paper copies ( included in the above limit of one hundred and fifty ) are to be subscribed for at £5 : 5 per volume, or £73 : 10 in advance. Subscribers in advance are protected by guarantee, if required. All communications to be addressed to J. O. Halliwell, Esq., Avenue Lodge, Brixton Hill, Surrey. OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. " Mr. Halliwell's competency to deal with the text of our great poet, and with all that concerns him, is, we believe, all but universally acknowledged, — the best proof of which is the confidence reposed in him by the subscribers to the magnificent edition now publishing under his 2 auspices ; a confidence which, we are convinced, he will not betray by any ill-judged deviations I'roin till' authentic readings." — Blackwoocrs Magazine. " The first of the twenty volumes proposed to be printed by Mv. Halliwell by the aid of one hundred and fifty subscribers is just completed. The undertaking was, in more respects than one, highly adventurous, and no one who did not combine perseverance and enthusiasm, with extensive reading and sound judgment, could have ventured upon such a task. The appearance of this magnificent volume assures us at once that the editor is not only in earnest, but that he feels he can and wiW accomplish the hazardous enterprise, — hazardous in a pecuniary point of view The value of the present work mainly consists in its severe triithfulness, not a single document, or extract from an old book, being printed before a close examination had been made of its authen- ticity. All Mr. Fairholt's beautiful drawings, with which the work is illustrated, and all the facsimiles, bear also the stamp of truth and accuracy." — The Times. " Mr. Halliwell's great strength lies in the strict manner in M'hich he adheres to fact alone ; he advances no opinions unbacked by authority ; his book is a vast mass of facts, and Mr. Fairholt's illustrations are regarded in the same light. They abound in curiosity and interest, which must increase with years ; and Avhen the twenty volumes are complete, they will form a body of Shaksperian literature of an unique kind. 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ROBERT P. RAYNE, Esq., New Orleans. THE NEWARK STOCK LIBRARY, Newark-on-Trent. LIBRARY OF LINCOLN'S INN. PROFESSOR PYPER, LL.D., University of St. Andrew's. CHARLES GIBBS, Esq., 2nd Queen's Royal Regiment. BENJAMIN GODFREY WINDUS, Esq., Tottenham Green. JOHN MATHER, Esq., Mount Pleasant, Liverpool. WILLIAM ALEXANDER PARK, Esq., Lever Street, Manchester. MRS. BAILEY, Easton Court, Tenbury. WILLIAM M. MACDONALD, Esq., Rossie Castle, Montrose. SAMUEL A. PHILBRICK, Esq., Colchester. WILLIAM ALLEN, Esq., Shiffnal. THOMAS TOBIN, Esq., Ballincollig, near Cork. HENRY WILLIAM PEEK, Esq., Clapham Park. ZELOTES HOSMER, Esq., Boston. JOHN STAUNTON, Esq., Longbridge House, near Warwick. WILLIAM EUING, Esq., Glasgow. WILLIAM HARRISON, Esq., Galligreaves House, Blackburn. THOMAS COOMBES, Esq., South Street, Dorchester. THE BRITISH MUSEUM. HARMAN GRISEWOOD, Esq., Wandsworth Common. THE CITY OF LONDON LIBRARY, Guildhall. THE LIBRARY OF THE ROYAL DUBLIN SOCIETY, Dublin. MRS. ALLSOPP, WiUington, near Burton-on-Trent. JOHN B. JELL, Esq., Bank of England, Liverpool. SAMUEL TIMMINS, Esq., Birmingham. WILLIAM LEAF, Esq., Park Hill, Streatham. DR. RALPH FLETCHER, Gloucester. T. S. GODFREY, Esq., Balderton Hall, Notts. THOMAS BYRON, Esq., Coulsdon, near Croydon. THOMAS FARMER COOKE, Esq., Belgrave, Leicester. DR. BUCHANAN WASHBOURN, Gloucester. JOHN C. NICHOLL, Esq., 33, Belgrave square. *if.* The Names of Subscribers being printed in each volume, it is particularly requested that the exact title and address be given in the form in which it is wished to be inserted. FROM THE CURFEW-BELL AND ORIGINALS PRESERVED IN COUVRE -FEU . THE MUSEUM AT CANTERBURY. THE WORKS OF WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE THE TEXT FOUMED FROM ^ neb C0nittioit 0f tljc carlo (StrittaiiS: TO WHICH ARE ABDED ALL THE ORIGINAL NOVELS AND TALES ON WHICH THE PLAYS ARE FOUNDED; COPIOUS ARCH^OLOGICAL ANNOTATIONS ON EACH PLAY; AN ESSAY ON THE FORMATION OF THE TEXT; AND A LIFE OF THE POET: BY JAMES 0. HALLIWELL, ESQ., F.R.S. I11).\0KAI1Y JIKMHKH OK THK BOVAI. IRISH ACAOKMY; THE ROYAL SOCIETY OE LITERATURE; THE NEWCASTLE ANTIQl-ARIAN SOCIETY; THE AbllMOLEAN SOCIETY, A^D THE SOCIITY EOR THE STUDY OF GOTHIC ABCHlTfCTLRE; EEl.I OW OF THE SOCIETY OF ANTIQUARIES ; AND CORRESPONDINO MEMBER CF THE ANTlQt'ABIAN SOCIETIES OF SCOTLAN D, FOICTIEBS, IMCARDIE, AND CAEN (ACA flEM IE DF.S SCIENCES), AXIJ OF THE COMITF DESARTSET MONl'MKNTS. VOLUME III. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. THE COMEDY OF ERRORS. THE ILLUSTRATIONS AND WOOD-ENGRAVINQS BV FREDERICK WILLIAM FAIRHOLT, ESQ., F.S.A. AUTHOR OF 'COSTUME IN ENGLAND,' ETC. LONDON : h PRTNTED rOU THE EDITOR, BY J. E. ADLAED, BAETIIOLOMEAV CLOSE. 1854. L HIS MAJESTY THE KING OF PRUSSIA. S. A. R. LE DUG D'AUMALE, Orleans House, Twickknham. HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF BUCCLEUCII AND QUEENSBUUY, K.G. HIS GRACE THE DUKE OF NEWCASTLE. THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF BURLINGTON. THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF FALMOUTH. THE RIGHT HON. THE EARL OF WARWICK. THE RIGHT HON. 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BENJAMIN GODFREY WINDUS, Esa., Tottenham Green. JOHN M.VTIIER, Esa., Mount Pleasant, Liverpool. WILLIAM ALEXANDER PARK, Esa., Lever Street, Manchester. MRS. BAILEY', Easton Court, Tenbury". WILLIAM M. MACDONALD, Esa., Rossie Castlf, .Montrose. SAMUEL A. PIIILBRICK, Esa., Colchester. WILLIAM ALLEN, Esa., Shiffnal. THOMAS TOBIN, Esa., F.S.A., F.R.S.N.A., Ballincollig, near Cork. HENRY WILLIAM PEEK, Esa., Clapham Park. ZELOTES HOSMER, Esa., Boston, U.S. JOHN STAUNTON, Esa., Longbridge House, near Warwick. WILLTAM EUING, Esa., Glasgoyv. WILLIAM HARRISON, Esq., Galligreaves House, Blackburn. THOMAS COO.MBS, Esq., South Street, Dorchester. THE LIBRARY OF THE BRITISH MUSEUM. HARMAN GRISEWOOD, Esq., Wandsworth Common. THE CITY OF LONDON LIBRARY, Guildhall. THE LIBRARY OF THE ROYAL DUBLIN SOCIETY, Dublin. MRS. ALLSOPP, Willington, near Burtos-on-Trent. JOHN B. JELL, Esq., Bank of England, Liverpool. SAMUEL TIM.MINS, Esa., Birmingham. WILLI.\.M LE.\F, Esq., Park Hill, Streatham, Surrey. DR. RALPH FLETCHER, Gloucester. THOMAS BYRON, Esq., Coulsdon, near Croydon. T. S. GODFREY, Junior, Esq., Balderton Hall, Notts. THE I.MPERIAL LIBRARY, Paris. list of IJlates. 1. The Curfew-Bell formerly at Dover Castle, and a Couvre-fcii of the time of Shakespeare, from the originals preserved in tlie Museum at Canterbury ..... froulisjiicn' 2. Extracts from Measure for Measure, selected from a manuscript of the seventeenth century, exhibiting examples of the unauthorized alterations of the text which were common at that period . . .51 3. Facsimile of an early Engraving in the Shepherd's Calendar, from Pynson's edition of 1506, illustrating the ancient idea of one of tlie torments of the condemned, residins; "in thrillino- region of thick-ribbed ice" . 110 4. Passages from Measure for Measure and the Comedy of Errors, selected from the manuscript above named, exhibiting similar examples of unauthorised alterations of the text .... 133 5. Dr. AVilson's music to the Song, " Take, Oh, take those lips away," from the original Manuscript in the Bodleian Library . .172 6. Facsimile of the last page of Measure for Measure, as it appears in the first folio edition of 1623 ..... 213 7. Extracts from the Palladis Tamia of Meres, 1598, containing the earliest list of Shakespeare's plays known to exist . . .297 8. The first page of the Comedy of Errors, as it ajipears in the first folio edition published in 1623 ..... 325 9. The first page of the Comedy of Errors, as it appears in the second folio edition, published in 1632 . . . .379 10. The first page of the Comedy of Errors, as it appears in the third folio edition, published in 1663 . . . .415 *** The three last-named plates atford very good examples of the diff'erences between the first three folio editions, and will enable possessors of imperfect copies to ascertain the edition to which they belong. mt for Mtasiirt EARLY EDITIONS. (1) . In the folio edition of 1623 ; in the division of Comedies, pp. 01-84, sig-s. ri— G6v° (2) . In the folio edition of 1632. Tlie pagination and signatures arc the same as in the above. (3) . In the folio edition of 1664. Tlie pagination and signatures are tlic same as in the above. (4) . In the folio edition of 1684 ; in the division of Comedies, pp. 55-76, sigs. E4— G2 V- INTRODUCTION. The principal incident in this play, the infamous conduct of Angelo, has been related of a variety of persons in different ages ; hut the primary source of the plot adopted by Shakespeare is found in the novels of Giraldi Cinthio, Ecatommithi, 1565. In the novel of that writer, Juriste, governor of Inspruck, a man renowned for wisdom and justice, sentenced a youth named Lodovico to death for violation. Epitia, sister of Lodovico, a virgin of exquisite beauty and highly accomplished, deeply loved her brother, and determined to attempt his deliverance. Kneel- ing in tears before the feet of Juriste, and pleading her brother's cause with pathetic eloquence, her graceful beauty, rendered still more attractive by her position, enraptured the stern judge who had previously laughed to scorn the power of love. In the excess of tumultuous passion, he makes the same proposal to her which Angelo does to Isabella. It is rejected with indigna- tion, but Epitia is not proof against the tears and entreaty of her brother, and reluctantly yields to the wishes of Juriste under the solemn promise of marriage. What was her agony, then, to find that his vows were forgotten, and that Lodovico was executed, notwithstanding the sacrifice she had made. She appeals to the emperor of the Romans, before whom Juriste is convicted, compelled to marry her, and then sentenced to death. Epitia now sues for her husband's life ; forgets her wrongs in the character of a wife ; and, having obtained her prayer, continues the faithful partner of Juriste, who, on his part, is presumed to be reformed by her unexampled virtue and generosity. It may readily be imagined that a tale like the preceding, although unsuitable for the audience of a very refined age, would be likely to attract the attention of our early dramatists, as con- taining the material for nuich effective situation. The Italian 4 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. [iNTROD. novelist, indeed, had mjidc the story the suhject of «i drama as well as of a romance, under the title of Epltut, whieh Avas puh- lished, Avith his other tragedies, at Veniee, in the year 1583. Five years hefore the appearanee of this work, George ^yhetstone, an English poet of some note, had ])uhlished his ' Promos juid Cassandra,' a play founded on Cinthio's novel, hut comprising several variations adopted hy Shakespeare. This production, Avhieh is in two parts, had not heen performed hefore the year 1582, as aj)pears from a marginal note in the lie pf a me ran, printed in that year; nor is there any reason for supposing that it was ever puhliely acted. The prose history of i^romos and Cassandra, in Whetstone's Heptameron of Civill Discourses, 1582, merely condenses the circumstances of the play hy the same author into a hrief narrative, the following curious note occurring at the eonunencement : — "This historic, for rarenes therof, is lively set out in a connnedie hy the reporter of the whole worke, but yet never presented upon stage." The name of Isabella, the reporter of the tale, is conjectured to have sug- gested the appellation of the character in the following play ; but the reader may be cautioned not to draw too rapid conclu- sions from trivial coincidences of this kind, it being a matter of doubt AAhether either of the prose stories was known to Shakespeare. Both the latter, however, are exceedingly interest- ing in connexion Avitli the present enquiry into the source of the plot, and are essential to our collection of materials. 1 reprint, therefore, the original novel of Giraldi Cinthio, precisely as it stands in the early edition of the Ecatommithi ; addini>*, in the second place, Whetstone's prose history from the Heptameron. The first tale bears the following title, — " Juriste e mandato da ^lassimiano, Imperadore, in Ispruchi, ove fa prendere un giov^ane violatore di una vergine, e condannalo a morte : la Sorella cerca di libcrarlo: Juriste da speranza alia donna di pigliarla per moglie, e di darle libero il fratello : ella eon lui si giace, e la notte istessa Juriste fa tagliar al giovane la testa, e la manda alia Sorella : Ella ne fa querela all' Imperadore, il quale fa sposare ad Juriste la donna ; poscia lo fa dare ad essere uceiso : la donna lo libera, e con lui si vive amorevolissimamente." It is worthy of remark that, in the original edition of the second tale here re- printed, the English one from the Heptameron, numerous marginal notes occur ; but as these, with the exception of the one above quoted, merely refer to the subject of the narrative, it was not considered necessary to retain them. IXTEOD.] MEASURE rOH MEASURE. 5 (I). Ancliora die Matea paresse alle Donne degna di ogni gran pena, e per la ingratitudine vsata verso quella Reina, e per lo dislionesto congiungimento col Eratello, Nondimeno a granfatica tennero le lagrime, quando sentirono le parole, ch'ella, poco auanti la morte, hauea dette, e le pregarono tutte requie. Ma di Acolasto, e di Eritto non ne hebbe ne huomo ne Donna compassione, e alcuno di loro si marauiglio, che Iddio tanto sostenuti gli hauesse. Ma dissero gli Imomini maturi, che Iddio lascia gli rei viui tra buoni, perclie quelli siano a questi come vno essercitio continuo, e quasi speroni a ricorrere a lui. Oltre, che gli tolera an CO la sua Maesta, per vedere se volessero volgere la mente a miglior uita. Ma, quando gli uede ostinati nel male operare, tale da loro finalmente, il gastigo, quale costoro I'haueano hauuto. Et, tacendo gia ognuno, disse Euluia, Deurieno i Signori, che sono posti da Iddio a gouerno del Mondo, non meno pun ire la ingratitudine, quall'liora uiene loro a notitia, die puniscano gli Homicidi, gli Adiilteri, i Ladronecci, i quali quantunque siano delitti graui, sono forse di minor pena degni, che la Ingratitudine. Dalla qual cosa spinto Massimiano il Grande dignissimo Imperadore, nolle ad un tratto punire la Ingratitudine, e la Ingiustitia di vn suo ministro, e ne sarebbe seguito 1' effetto, se la bonta deUa Donna, contra la quale lo ingrato si era mostrato ingiustissimo, non 1' hauesse, con la sua cortesia, dalla pena liberato, come mi apparecchio di dimostrarui. Mentre questo gran Signore, che fii raro essempio di Cortesia, di Magnanimita, e di singolare Giustitia, reggeua felicissimamente lo Imperio Romano, mandaua suoi ministri, a gouernare gli stati, che fioriuano sotto il suo Imperio. Et, fra gli altri, mando al Gouerno d' Ispruchi vn suo famigliare, che molto caro gli era, chiamato luriste. Et prima, che la il mandasse, gli disse. luriste, la buona opinione, che io ho conceputa di te, mentre al mio seruigio sei stato, mi fa mandarti Gouernatore di cosi nobile Citta, quale e Ispruchi, sul quale reggimento, molte cose ti potrei commandare. Ma tutte in vna le voglio ristringere, laquale e, che serui inuiolabilmente la Giustitia : Se bene hauessi a giudicare contra me medesimo, che tuo Signor sono, e ti auiso, che tutti gli altri mancamenti, 6 siano per ignoranza, 6 pur per negligenza commessi (anchora die da questi, voglio, che quanto piu ti fie possibile ti guardi) ti potrei perdonare, ma cosa fatta contra la Giustitia appresso me non ritrouerebbe perdono, Et, se forse tu non ti senti di deuere essere tale, quale io ti desidero (perche ogni huomo, non e buono ad ogni cosa) rimanti di pigliare questo maneggio, e restati piii tosto qui in Corte, one caro ti ho, a tuoi usati vSici, che coU'essere Gouernatore di questa Citta, mi inducesti a far queUo contra te, che, non senza mio gran dispiacere, miconuerebbe di fare per debito di Giustitia, quando tu la Giustitia non seruasti. Et qui si tacque. luriste, uie piii lieto deU'ufficio, a che il chiamaua lo Imperadore, che buon conoseitore di se stesso. Ringratio il suo Signore dell'amoreuole ricordo, et gli disse, ch'egli era da se animato aUa conser- uation della Giustitia, Ma che tanto piu la conseruerebbe hora, quanto le parole sue gli erano state come vna facella, die uie piii a cio fare I'haueua acceso. Et die gli daua I'animo di riuscir tale in questo gouerno, che sua Maesta non haurebbe se non cagion di lodarlo. Piacquero alio Imperatore le parole di luriste. e gli disse veramente non hauro se non cagion di lodarti, se cosi buoni saranno i fatti, come son buone le parole. Et fattegli dare le lettere patenti, che gia erano espedite, la il mando. Comincio luriste a reggere la Citta assai prudentemente, e con molta diligenza, usando gran cura, e molto studio in fare, che giusta si stesse I'una, e r altra bilance, non meno ne giudicii, che nelle dispensationi de gli Yffici, e nel premiare le Yirtii, e punire i Vitii. Et duro gran tempo, che, con tale tempera- mento, si acquisto maggior gratia appresso il suo Signore, e si guadagno la beniuolenza di tutto quel popolo. Et si poteua riputare felice fra gli altri, se con tal maniera fosse continuato in quel gouerno. Auenne, che un Giouane deUa terra Yieo chiamato, fe forza ad vna Giouane Cittadina di Ispruchi, onde ne fii fatta 0 MEASiniE FOTI MEASURE. [l^ITROD. querela al luristc. Et culi di subito il fece prendcre, e confcssata, cli'egli liebbe la violenza fatta alia vcrfrinc, il condanno, secondo la loui^c di (|uclla Citta, clie vok'na, clu' tali ("osscro condaniiati alia ])cna dcUa testa, se bene ancosi dispoiiessero a })ii;liarla per ^Loglie. JLaueua questi vna Sorella, clic Yeriiine era, e non ])assa- ua diciotto anni. La ([iiale, oltre cli'era ornata di estreiiia bellezza, liaiicua vna dolcissiina nianiera di fauellarc, e ])ortaua scco vna prcsenza aniabile, acc()nq)agnata da donncsca lionesta. Costei, eh'Epitia liaiiea nonie, sentendo cssere condannato a mortc il Fratello, fu so})ra})resa da graiiissinio dolore. e delibcrossi di volere uedere, s'ella i)otesse, se non libcrsirc il Eratello, almeno ammollirgli la pena, e, cssendo ella stata sotto la dipei))lina, insicme col Eratello, di iino linoiiio antico, c'liauca tenuto in casa il Eadre suo, ad insegnare ad anibidue loro JMiilos()})liia, ancliora che il rratello male vsata I'hauesse, se n'ando ad luriste. e il prego ad liaucrc conq)assi()ne a suo Eratello : e per la poca eta, pero cli'egli non passaua sedici anni, la quale, il faccua degno di scusa, e per la jioca esperienza, e per lo stimolo, cli'Amore gli liaucua al fianco, Mostrandogli, cli'era opinione dc' pin saui, che I'Adulterio, connnesso per forza d'Amore, e non per fare ingiuria al ]\rarito della Donna, nieritaua minor pena, che chi ])er ingiuria il faccua : et die il me desiino si deueua dire, nel easo del suo Eratello, il quale non per ingiuria, ma spinto d'ardente amore, quelle fatto haueua, per cui condannato egli era : e die, in amenda ddl'errore conimcsso, egli era ])er pigliare la Giouane per ^logliere, Et, (|uantunque la leggc disponesse, die cio non giouasse a chi le Yergini violasse, Poteua egli nondimeno, come prudente, ch'egli era, niitigare quella seuerita, la ([uale ])ortaua seco piii tosto ofiesa, die Giustitia, esscndo egli in quel luogo, per I'auttorita haunt a dallo Tm])eratore, la Icgge viua, la quale auttorita ella voleua cre- dere, die gli hauesse data sua ]\laesta, perclie egli coll' Equita si mostrasse piu tosto clemente, che asjiro. Et, che se questo temperamento si deueua vsare in caso alcuno, si deueua egli vsare ne casi d'Amore, ([uando spetialmcntc rimaneua saluo I'honore della Donna violata, come era egli per rinianere nel caso di suo Fratello, il quale, era prontissimo a prenderla per j\loglie, e ch'ella credea, che tale fosse stata constituita la Icgge piu per ])orre terrore, che, perclie ella fosse seruata, die le parca vna cruddta, il volere colla morte punire ([uello peccato, che con sodisfattione deU'oU'eso potcua esscre lionoreuoliuente, e santaiiiente emendato, Et, aggiuugendo a queste, altre ragioni, cerco d'indurre luriste a perdonare a (|uel jMesehino, luriste, cui non meno dilettaua gli oreedii il dolce modo di faucllare di Epitia, che gli delettasse la sua gran bellezza gli occhi, fatto insienie vago di vederla, e di vdirla. La indusse a replicargli il medesimo vn'altra volta, La Donna, ])igliando da cio buono augurio, quello istesso gli disse, con vie maggiore elfieacia, die prima. Ondc se ne rimase, e dalla gratia del faucllare di Epitia, e dalla rara bellezza, come vinto, e, tocco da libidinoso appetito, volto la inente a commettere in lei (piello errore, per lo (juale haueua condannato Vieo alia morte. Et, le disse, Epitia, di tanto lianno giouato le ragioni a tuo Fratello, che one diinan gli deueua essere tagliata la testa, si diU'erira la essecutione insino a tanto, die liabbia consi- derate le ragioni, che addotte mi hai, e, se tali le ritrouero, che ti possano dare libero il tuo Fratello, lo ti daro tanto piii volentieri, quanto mc incresce hauerlo veduto condotto a morte, per lo rigorc della dura legge, che cosi ha disposto. Prese da queste parole Epitia buona speranza, e lo ringratio molto, ch'egli cosi cortese le si fosse mostrato. e gli disse, di dcuergli cssere eternamente obligata, Pensandosi di non ritrouarlo meno cortese in liberarlc il Fratello, che cortese I'hauesse ritrouato in prolungargli il termine della vita : e gli soggiunse, die dla fermamente spcraua, che, s'egli consideraua le cose dette, con liberarle il Fratello, la farebbe pienamente contenta : c egli le disse, che le considcrerebbe, e die (([U.'indo senza offendere la Giustitia il potesse fare) non mancherebbe di adempirc il suo desirio ; Tutta piena di speranza si parti Epitia, e se n'ando al Fratello, e tutto quello gli disse, die con INTROD.] MEASURE EOR MEASURE. 7 luriste ella fatto hauea, e quanto di speranza ella ne liauea conceputa nel primo rag-ion amento : Eu cio, in quello estremo caso, molto grato a Vieo. e la prego a nou mancare di sollecitare la sua liberatione, e la Sorella gli promise ogni suo ulRcio. luriste, clie la forma della Donna liauea nell'animo impressa, volto ogni suo pensiero, come lasciuo, cli'egli era, a potersi godere di Epitia. e percio attendeua, cli'ella un'altra volta gli ritornasse a parlare. Ella, passati tre giorni, vi ritorno, e tutta cortese gli dimando quello, che gli liauesse deliberato. luriste, si tosto, che la vide, si senti venir tutto fuoco, e le disse. Ti sii bella Giouane, ben venuta : lo non son mancato di uedere diligentemente cio, che potessero operare le tue ragioni, a fauore di tuo Eratello, e ne ho cercate delle altre anchora, perche tu ri manesti contenta : Ma ritrouo, che ogni cosa conchiude la morte sua : Perclie vi e una legge uniuersale, che quando un pecca non per ignoranza, ma ignorantemente, non puo hauere alcuna scusa il suo peccato, perclie deuea sapere quello, che deono sapere tutti gli huomini vniuersalmente a uiuer bene, e chi con questa ignoranza pecca, non merita ne scusa, ne compassione. Et, essendo in questo caso tuo Eratello, il quale deuea molto ben sapere, che la legge iiolea, che chi uiolaua la Vergine meritasse morte, se ne dee morire, ne io gli posso di ragione usar misericordia. Egli e uero, che quanto a te, alia quale desidero di far cosa grata, quando tu (poi che tanto ami tuo Eratello) uogli essere contenta di com- piacermi di te, Io son disposto di fargli gratia della uita, e mutare la morte in pena men graue. Diuenne tutta fuoco nel uiso a queste parole Epitia, e gli disse, la uita di mio Eratello mi e molto cara, ma uie piii caro mi e I'honor mio, e piii tosto con perdita della uita cercherei di saluarlo, die con perdita dell'lionore, Pero lasciate questo uostro dishonesto pensiero. Ma, se per altra uia posso ricuperare il mio Eratello, che compiacerui, il faro molto uolentieri. Altra uia, disse luriste, non ui e, che quella, che detta ti ho, ne ti deureste mostrartene cosi scliifa, perclie potrebbe ageuolmente auenire, che tali sariano i nostri primi congiunginienti, che mia moglie diueresti. Non uoglio, disse Epitia, porre in pericolo I'honor mio, e perche in pericolo ? disse luriste, forse che tal sei tu, che non ti puoi pensare, che cosi debba essere. Pensaui ben sopra, e ne aspettero per tutto domane la risposta. La risposta ui do io insino ad hora, disse ella, che non mi pigiiando uoi per moglie, quando pure uogliate, che la liberation di mio Eratello da cio dependa, gittate al uento le parole. Peplicolle luriste, ch'ella ui pensasse, e gli ri])ortasse la risposta, considerando diligentemente chi egli era, quello, ch'egli poteua in quella Terra, e quanto potesse essere utile non pure a lei, ma a qualunque altro essergli amico, hauendo egli, in quel luogo, in mano la Ragione, e la Eorza. Si parti Epitia da lui tutta turbata, e se n'ando al Eratello, e gli disse cio, che fra lei, e luriste era auenuto, conchiudendogli, ch'ella non uoleua ])erdere I'honore suo, per saluare a lui la uita. Et, piangendo, il prego a disporsi a tolerare patientemente quella Sorte, che, 0 la necessita de' Eati, o la sua mala Eortuna gli apportaua. Qui si diede a piangere, e a pregare la Sorella Yieo, ch'ella non uolcsse consentire alia sua morte, potendo nella guisa, che proposta le haueua luriste, liberarla. Vorrai tu forse disse Epitia, uedermi la manaia sul collo, e troncato quel capo, che teco e di un mede- simo ventre, e da un medesimo Padre generato, e teco insino a questa eta cresciuto, et nelle discipline teco nutrito, gittato a terra dal Ma nigoldo : Alii Sorella, possa tanto in te, le ragioni della Natura, del sangue, e I'amoreuolezza, che e sempre stata fra noi, che tu potendo, come puoi, mi liberi da cosi uituperoso, e miserabile fine, ho errato, il confesso, Tu Sorella mia, che puoi correggere Terror mio, non mi essere auara del tuo aiuto, hatti detto luriste, che ti potrebbe pigliare per moglie, et perche non dei tu pensare, che cosi debba essere ? Tu bellissima sei, ornata di tutte quelle gratie, che a Gentildonna puo dar la Natura, sei gentilesca, e auenente, liai una rairabile maniera di fauellare, il che fa, che non pure tutte queste cose insieme, ma ciascuna per se, ti puo far cara, non diro ad luriste, ma alio Imperadore 8 MEASURE EOR MEASURE. [iNTROD. del Mondo : Pero non liai da dubitar jiunto, che luriste per moglie no sia per prenderti, e cosi, saluo il tuo honore, fie salua insieme del tuo Eratello la uita. riangeua Vieo queste parole dicendo, e insieme seco piangeua Epitia, la quale, hauendo abbracciata al collo Vieo, non prima la lascio, che fii costretta (uinta da pianti del Eratello) di promettergli, che ad luriste si darebbe, poi che cosi a lui pareua, quando gli uolesse saluare la uita, ela mantenesse nella speranza di pigliarla per moglie. Conchiuso questo fra loro: il giorno appresso se n'ando la Giouane ad luriste, e gli disse, che la speranza, ch'egli le hauea da ta di pigliarla per moglie, dopo i primi congiungimenti, e il desiderio di liberare il Eratello non pur dalla morte, ma da qualunque altra pena, ch'egli, per I'errore da lui commesso, meritasse, riiaueua indotta a porsi tutta in suo arbitrio, e che per I'uno, e per I'altro ella era contenta di darglisi, ma soura tutto ella uoleua, ch'egli le promettessi la salute, e la liberta del Eratello, luriste uie piii di ogn'altro huomo si tenne felice, poiche di si bella, e leggiadra Giouane deueua godere, e le disse, che quella medesima speranza egli le daua, che prima le hauea data, e che il fratello libero dalle carcere le darrebbe, la mattina appresso, ch'egli con lei stato si fosse, cosi hauendo cenato insieme luriste, e Epitia se n'andarono poscia a letto, et si prese il Maluagio dell a Donna compiuto piacere. Ma, prima ch'egli andasse a giacersi coUa Vergine, in uecce di liberare Vieo, commise, che subito gli fosse tagliata la testa. La Donna bramosa di veder il Eratello libero, non uide I'hora, che apparisse il giorno, et le parue, che mai tanto non tardasse il Sole a menare il giorno, quanto quella notte. Venuta la mattina, Epitia scioltasi dalle braccia di luriste, il prego, con dolcissmia maniera, che gli piacesse di adempire la speranza, ch'egli data I'haueua di pigliarlasi per Moglie, e che fra tanto, le mandasse libero il Eratello. Et egli le rispose, che gli era stato carissimo I'essere stato con esso lei, e che le piaceua, ch'ella hauesse conceputa la speranza, ch'egli I'hauea data, et che a casa il Eratello le manderebbe. Et cosi detto, fe chiamare il Prigioniere, e gli disse. Vanne alia Prigione, e tranne fuori il Eratello di questa Donna, e condugiie le a casa. Epitia, cio udito, piena di molta allegrezza a casa se n'ando, aspettando libero il fratello, II Prigioniere fatto porre il corpo di Vieo sopra la barra, gli mise il capo a piedi, e coperto lo di panno negro, andando egli auanti, il fe portare ad Epitia. Et entrato in casa, fatta chiamare la Giouane, questo e disse, il Eratel uostro, che ui manda il Sig. Gouernatore libero dalla prigione, et, cosi detto, fe scoprir la barra, Et le offerse il Eratello in quella guisa, c'hauete vdito. lo non credo, che lingua potesse dire, ne comprendere huraana mente quale, e quanto fosse I'affanno, e ilcordoglio di Epitia, veduto offerirsi quel Eratello in quella guisa morto, ch'ella aspettaua con somma allegrezza di uedere uiuo. e assoluto da ogni pena. Mi credo ben Donne, che uoi crediate, che tale, e tanto fii il dolore della misera Donna, che auanzo ogni spetie di ambascia. Ma ella lo chiuse entro il core, Et, oue qualunque altra Donna si saria messa a piangere, e a gridare, ella, cui la Philosophia hauea insegnato qual debbia essere I'animo humano in ogni fortuna, mostro di rimanersi conenta, Et disse al Prigioniere, Tii dirai al tuo Signore, e mio, che quale gli e piacciuto di mandarmi il Eratello mio, tale io I'accetto, et che, poi ch'egli non ha voluto adempire il voler mio, lo mi rimango contenta, ch'egli habbia adempito il suo, et cosi il suo uolere faccia mio pensandomi, ch'esso giustamente fatto habbia quello, che fatto egli ha, e gli mi raccomanderai, ofFerendoglimi prestissima a sempre piacerle. Riferi ad luriste il Prigioniere cio, che Epitia detto gli haueua, dicendogli, ch'ella segno alcuno di discontentezza, non hauea dato, a cosi horribile spettacolo. Resto fra se contento luriste cio udendo, e venne in pensiero di potere hauere non altrimente la Giouane a voglia sua, che s'ella fosse sua moglie, e le hauesse egli viuo offerto Vieo. Epitia, partito il Prigioniere, fe sopra il morto fratello, dirottissimamente piangendo, lunga, e dolente querela. Maledicendo la crudelta di luriste, e la simplicita sua, che prima gli si fosse data, ch'hauesse hauuto libero INTROD.] MEASURE FOE MEASURE. 9 il siio Eratello. Et, dopo molte lagrime, fe dare sepoltura al morto corpo. Et, ridottasi poscia sola nella sua stanza, spinta da giustissirao sdegno comincio a dir seco. Dunque tolererai tu Epitia, che questo Eibaldo ti habbia tolto il tuo lionore, e per cio ti habbia promesso di darti libero, e viuo il Eratel tuo, e poscia lo ti habbia in si miserabile forma olferto morto ? Tolererai tii, ch'egli di due tali inganni, fatti alia tua simplicita, si possa uantare, senza hauerne da te medesima il debito gastigo ? Et accendendo con tali parole se alia vendetta, Disse. Lamia semplicita ha aperta la uia a questo scelerato di arrecare a fine il suo dishonesto desiderio, uoglio io, che la sua lasciuia mi dia il modo di uendicarmi, e se bene il far uendetta, non mi dara il mio Eratello uiuo, mi sara ella nondimeno un passa- mento di noia, e, in tanta turbatione di animo, quasi sii questo pensiero si fermo. Aspettando, che luriste di nuouo la mandasse a dimandare, per giacersi con lei ; one andando, haueua deliberato portar seco celatamente il coltello, e, ueggiando, 6 dormendo, come prima tempo se ne uedesse suenarlo. Et se il destro se ne uedesse leuargli la testa, e portarla al Sepolchro del Eratello, e all'ombra sua sacrarla. Ma pensando poi sopra cio piii maturamente, uide, che, anchora che le uenisse fatto di uccidere il Erodolente, si potrebbe ageuolmente presumere, che ella, come dishonesta Donna, e per cio ardita ad ogni male, cio hauesse fatto per ira, e per sdegno piii tosto, die perche egli le fosse mancato di fede. Onde essendole noto quanta fosse la Giustitia dell' Imperadore, il quale allhora era a Yillaco, deliberossi di andaiio a ritrouare, e dolersi appresso sua Maesta della ingratitudine, e della ingiustitia usatale da luriste. Portando ferma opinione, che quell'Ottimo, e Giustissimo Imperadore farebbe portare giustissima pena a quel ]\Ialuagio e della ingiustitia, e della ingratitudine sua. Et uestitasi di liabito lugubre, messasi tutta sola segretamente in camino, se n'ando a Massimiano, e, fattagli chiedere udienza, e ottenutala, gli si gitto a piedi, e accompagnando col dolente liabito la mesta uoce, gli disse. Sacratissimo Im- peradore, mi ha spinta auanti la ]\Iaesta Vostra, La fiera ingratitudine, e la incredibile ingiustitia, che mi ha luriste usata, Gouernatore in Ispruchi di Vostra Cesarea Maesta. Sperando, ch'ella adoperera in guisa la sua Giustitia, che a niun misero uenne mai meno, che come mi ho da dolere infinitamente di luriste, per lo torto, ch'egli mi ha fatto, di cui non fii mai udito il maggiore, non si andera altiero di hauermi, come mi ha, mi seramente assassinata, siami lecito usare questa parola inanzi a vostra Maesta, laquale anchora, che paia aspera, non agguaglia nondimeno la crudele, e non mai piii udita onta, che mi ha fatto questo mai' huomo. facendomisi ad un trato conoscere, e ingiustissimo, e ingratissimo. Et qui, dirottamente piangendo, e sospirando narro a sua Maesta, e come luriste sotto speranza di pigliarla per moglie, e de liberarle il Eratello, le liauea leuata la Virginita, e poscia le hauea maudato il Eratello suso vna barra morto coUa testa a piedi. E qui si mise gran grido, e allargo si gli occlii al pianto, che com- mosse in guisa, e I'lmperatore, e gli altri Signori, che a torno sua Maesta erano, clie se ne stauano, per la pieta, come huomini adombrati. Ma, anchora che Massimiano molta compassione le hauesse. Nondimeno hauendo data una delle orecchie ad Epitia (la quale alfin delle parole egli fe leuare in piedi) serbo raltra,per luriste, et man data la Donna a risposarsi, Mando subito a chiamare luriste, commettendo, e al Messo, e a tutti gli altri, che iui erano, che, per quanto era lor cara la gratia sua, di cio non dicessero ad luriste parola. luriste, che ogn'altra cosa si haurebbe piii tosto pensata, che Epitia fosse andata alio Imperadore, ui uenne tutto lieto, et, giunto alia presenza di sua Maesta, fatta che gli liebbe riuerenza, le chiese cio, ch'ella da lui uolesse, Hora, Hora il saprei, disse Massimiano. Et di subito fe chiamare Epitia. luriste veduta iui colci, cui sapeua egli di hauere grauemente offesa, uinto dalla conscienza, in guisa si smarri, che abbandonato da gli spiriti vitali, comincio tutto a tremare. La qual cosa veggendo Massimiano, tenne certo, che la 10 MEASURE EOH MEASUEE. [iNTROD. Donna nulla meno del vero detto le hauesse. Et riuoltosi verso lui, con quella seuerita, clie a cosi atroce caso si conueniua, odi, disse, di che si duol di te questa Giouane. Et commise ad Epitia, che quello dicesse, di che ella si lamentaua. La quale per ordine tutta la historia gli narro, e al fine, come prima dolente, all' Imperadore cliiese Giustitia : luriste sentita I'accusa, voile lusingare la Donna, dicendo, lo non haurei mai creduto, die voi, che tanto amo, foste venuta a cosi accusarmi auanti sua Maesta, Non consent! JMassimiano, che luriste lusingasse la Giouane, et disse non e tempo di fare qui I'appassionato, rispondi pure alia accusa, cli'ella ti ha data. luriste allliora lasciato quello, che gli potea far danno. Egli e vero disse, che ho fatta tagliare la testa al Eratello di costei, per hauere egli rapita, e fatto forza ad una Vergine, e cio ho io fatto, per non uiolare la Santita delle leggi, e per seruare quella Giustitia, che tanto raccomandata mi haueua la Maesta nostra, senza ofFesa delta quale egli uiuo non potea rimanere. Qui Epitia, e se cos! ti parea, che uolesse la Giustitia, per che mi pronietesti tii di darlomi uiuo, e sotto questa promessa, dandomi speranza di pigliarmi per moglie, mi priuasti della Yirginita mia, se merito mio Eratello sentire per vn peccato solo la seuerita della Giustitia, tu per due uie piii di lui tel meriti. Kimase qui come muto luriste. Onde lo Imperadore, Parti disse luriste, che questo sia stato serbare la Giustitia, 6 pure hauerla ofFesa talmente, che Thai poco meno, che uccisa ? con I'hauere vsata la maggiore ingratitudine verso questa gentil Giouane, cli'usasse mai Scelerato alcuno ? ma non te n'andrai lieto, credilo a me, Comincio qui luriste a domandar mercede, et Epitia, alio incontro, adiniandar Giustitia : Conosciuta da Massimiano la Simplicita della Giouane Donna, e la maluagita d'luriste. Penso subito, come potesse serbare I'honore alia Donna, e Seruare parimente la Giustitia, e tra se resolutosi di quanto uoleua fare, voile, ch'Iuriste sposasse Epitia. Non voleua consentiiio la Donna, dicendo, ch'ella non potea pensare di deuer mai hauer da lui se non sceleragini, e tradimenti. Ma voile jMassimiano, che di quello ella fosse contenta, ch'egli hauea deliberato, Sposata la Donna, si credete luriste, che fosse messo fine a suoi mali. Ma altrimente auenne. Imperoche, data licenza Massimiano alia Donna, che all'albergo si riducesse, voltatossi verso luriste, che iui era rimaso : e gli disse. Due, sono stati i tuoi delitti, e ambidue molto graui, L'uno, I'hauer uituperata questa Giouane, con tale inganno, che si dee dire, che le habbi fatta, forza, I'altro I'hauerle ucciso, contra la fede datale, il suo Eratello, il quale, anchora che meritasse la morte, era nondimen degno (poi che a uiolar la Giustitia ti eri disposto) che piii tosto tu mantenessi la fede alia sua Sorella, poi che la tua dissoluta lasciuia a promettergliele, sulla fede, te haueua ridotto, che, fatta a lei vergogna, mandargliele, come mandato glie le hai, morto. Pero, poi die al primo peccato ho proueduto, con I'hauer ti fatta sposare la uiolata Donna, in emenda del secondo uoglio, che cosi sia a te tagliata la testa, come al suo fratello la facesti tagliare. Quanto graue fosse il dolore di luriste, vdita la sentenza dello Imperadore si puo piii tosto imaginare, che pienamente narrarlo, Eii adunque dato luriste a Sergenti, perche, la mattina appresso, egli fosse, secondo il tenore deUa setenza, vcciso. La onde luriste, del tutto a morir disposto, non attendeua altro senone, che il Manigoldo a guastarlo andasse. Era questo temj)0 Epitia, die cosi ardente era stata contra lui, vdita la sentenza dello Imperadore, Mossa dalla sua naturale bcnignita, guidico, che non fusse cosa degna di lei, che dapoi che I'lmperadore hauea voluto, die luriste suo Marito fosse, e ella per tale I'hauea acceltato, consentisse, che gli fosse per sua cagione data morte. Parendole, che cio le potesse essere piu tosto attribuito ad appetito di vendetta, e a crudeltri, die a desiderio di Giustitia. Per la qual cosa piegando tutto il pensiero alia salute del Cattiuello, se n'ando alio Imperadore, e hauuta licenza di parlare, cosi disse. Sacratissimo Imperatore, la ingiustitia, e la ingratitudine, che vsata mi haueua luriste, me indussero a chiedere Giustitia contra lui da nostra Maesta. La quale. INTROD.] MEASUEE EOE MEASUEE. 11 come Giustissima, a due delitti commessi da lui ha giustissimamente proueduto, all'uno, che fu il tormi con inganno la Virginita mia, col far, ch'egli per moglie mi prenda, all'altro, che fu Thauermi ucciso il Eratello, contra la fede datami, col condannarlo a morte. Ma, come, prima, che sua moglie fiissi, deuea desiderare, che vostra Maesta a quella morte il condannasse, alia quale ella giustissimamente condannato I'ha, cosi hora, poi che a lei piacciuto e, che, col Santo vincolo del matrimonio, io sia ad luriste legata, mi terrei se alia sua morte consentissi, meritar nome di spietata, e crudel donna, con perpetua infamia, II che sarebbe effetto contrario alia intention di Vostra Maesta, la quale, colla sua Giustitia, ha cercato I'honor mio, Pero, Sacratissimo Imperadore, accioche la buona intention di vostra Maesta il suo fine conseguisca, e I'honor mio senza macchia se ne rimagna. Pregoui, humilissimamente, e con ogni riuerenza, a non volere, che per la sentenza di nostra Maesta, la spada della Giustitia scioglia miseramente quel nodo, col quale ha piacciuto a lei con luriste legarmi, Et, one la sentenza di nostra Maesta, ha dato chiaro segno della sua Giustitia, in condannarlo alia morte, cosi hora le piaccia, come di nuouo alfettuosamente la prego, fare manifesta la sua Clemenza col donarlomi uiuo, Non e, Sacratissimo Imperatore, punto minor lo'la, a chi tiene il gouerno del Mondo, come hora, vostra Maesta dignissimamente il tiene, I'usare la clemenza, che la Giustitia: che one questa mostra, che i vitii gli sono in odio, e percio dan loro gastigo, Quella lo fa simgliantissimo a gli Iddii Immortali. Et io, se questa singolar gratia otterro dalla benignita vostra, per lo benigno atto, vsato verso me, humilissima Serua di vostra Maesta, preghero, sempre con diuota mente Iddio, che degni conseruare a lunghi, e a felici anni la Maesta vostra, accioch'ella possa lungamente vsare la Giustitia, e la Clemenza sua a beneficio de mortali, e ad honore, e immortal gloria sua. Et qui pose fine Epitia al suo parlare. Parue cosa marauigliosa a Massimiano, ch'ella, posta in Oblio la graue ingiuria riceuuta da luriste, per lui si caldamente pregasse. Et gli parue, che tanta bonta, ch'egli vide in quella Donna, meritasse ch'egli, per gratia le con- cedesse colui vino, che era stato a morte, per Giustitia condannato. Onde fatto chiamare luriste dinanzi a se, in quell'hora, ch'egli attendeua di essere condotto a morte, gli disse. Ha potuto, reo huomo, tanto nel cospetto mio la bonta di Epitia, che, one la tua sceleragine meritaua, di essere punita, con doppia morte, non, che con vna, ella mi ha mosso a farti gratia della vita. La qual vita, Io voglio, che tu conoschi da lei. Et poscia, ch'ella si contenta di viuer teco, con quel legame congiunta, col quale io con lei voUi, che ti legasti, son contento, che tu, con lei ti viua, Et se sentiro mai, che tu meno, che da amoreuolissima, e cortesissima moglie la tratti, io ti faro prouare quanto sara il dispiacere, che mi farai. Et, conqueste parole presa lo Imperatore, Epitia per mano, ad luriste la diede, Ella, e luriste insieme, rese gratie a sua Maesta, della gratia loro concessa, e del fauor fatto, et luriste, considerata quanta verso lui fosse stata la cortesia de Epitia, I'hebbe sempre carissima. onde ella con lui felicissimamente visse il rimanente de gli anni suoi. (The above is taken verbatim from ed. 15G5, ii. pp. 415-Ii30.) (2). The rare Historie of Promos and Cassandra, reportedhy Madam Isabella. — At what time Corvinus, the scourge of the Turkes, rayned as kinge of Pohemia, for to well governe the free cities of hisrealme, hee sent divers worthy majestrates. Among the rest, he gave the Lorde Promos the lieutennauntship of Julio ; who in the beginning of his government, purged the cittie of many ancient vices, and severely punished new offenders. In this cittie, there was an olde custome (by the suffering of some majestrates, growne out of use) that what man so ever committed adulterie, should lose his head; and the woman offender should ever after be infa- mously noted by the wearing of some disguised apparrell : for the man was helde to bee the greatest offender, and therefore had the severest punishment. Lorde 12 MEASURE EOE MEASUHE. [iNTEOD. rromos, with a rough execution, revived this statute, and in the hyest degree of injuric brake it hymselfe, as shall appeare by the sequell of Andrugfoes adventures. This Andrugio, by the yeelding favour of fayre Polina, trespassed against this ordinaunce, who through envie was accused, and by Lorde Promos condemned to suffer execution. The wofull Cassandra, Andrugioes sister, prostrates her selfe at Lorde Promos feete, and with more teares then wordes thus pleaded for her brothers lyfe. Most noble Lorde, and worthy judge,voutchsafe mee the favour to speake,whose case is so desperate, as unlesse you beholde mee with the eyes of mercie, the frayle trespasse of condemned Andrugio, my brother, will bee the death of sorrowfull Cassandra, his innocent sister. I wil not presume to excuse his offence, or reproche the lawe of rigor ; for in the generall construction, hee hath done most evill, and the law hath judged but what is right: but, reverent judge, pardon the necessitie maketh mee here tel that your wisdome already knoweth. The most soveraigne justice is crowned with laurell, although shee bee gyrt vnth a sword, and this priveledge shee giveth unto her administrators ; that they shall mitigate the severetie of the law, according to the quallyty of the offence. Then, that Justice bee not robbed of her gratious pitty, listen, good Lorde Promos, to the nature of my brothers offence, and his able meanes to repap-e the injurie. Hee hath defyled no nuptiall bed, the stayne wherof dishonoureth the guyltlesse husband : hee hath committed no violent rape, in which act the injuried mayde can have no amends. But with yeelding consent of his mistresse, Andrugio hath onlye sinned through love, and never ment but with marriage to make amendes. I humbly bcseeche you to accept his satisfaction, and by this example you shall be as much beloved for your clemencye, as feared for your severitie. Andrugio shalbe well warned, and hee with his sister, wofull Cassandra, shall ever remayne your Lordships true servantes. Promos eares were not so attentive to heare Cassandras ruethful tale, as his eyes were settled to regarde her excellent beautie. And Love, that was the appoincted headsman of Andrugio, became now the soveraigne of his judges thought. But ])ecause he would seeme to bridle his passions, he aunswered : fayre damsell, have patience, you importune me with an impossybylytie : he is condempned by lawe, then without injurie to lawe, he can not be saved. Princes and their deputies prerogatives (quoth she) are above the lawe. Besides, lawe, truelie construed, is but the amends of injurie ; and where the faulte may bee valued, and amendes had, the breache of lawe is sufficiently repayred. Quoth Lorde Promos : your passions mooveth more then your proofes, and for your sake I wyll reprive Andrugio, and studie how to do you ease without apparent breache of lawe. Cassandra, recom- forted, with humble thankes recep-ed his favoure, and in great haste goeth too , participate this hope with her dying brother : but oh, that aucthorytie should have power to make the vertuous to doo amisse, as well as throughe correction to enforce the vicious to fall unto goodnesse. Promos is a witnes of this priviledge, who not able to subdue his incontinent love, and (withal) resolved that Cassandra would never be overcome with fayre words, large ])romises, or riche rewardes, demaunded the spoyle of her virginitie for raunsome of her brothers lybertie. Cassandra ymagyned at tlie first, that Lorde Promos used this speache but to trie her behaviour, aunswered hym so wisely, as, if he had not ben the ryvall of vertue, he coidd not but have suppressed his lewve {sic) affection, and have subscribed to her just petition : but to leave circurnstaunces, Promos was fiered with a vicious desyre, which must be quenched witli Cassandraes yeldyng love, or Andrugio must dye. Cassandra, mooved with a chaste disdayne, departed with the resolution, rather to dye her selfe, then to stayne her honour ; and with this heavie newes, greeted her condemned brother. Poore man, alas, what should he do ! Life was sweete ; but to be re- deemed with his sisters infamie could not but be alwayes unsaverie. To perswade her to consente was unnaturall : too yealde to death was more g.reevous. To choose INTROD.] MEASUEE FOU MEASURE. 13 the leaste of these evylles was difhcult : to stiidie long was daungerous. Eayne would he lyve, but shame cloased his mouth when he attempted to perswade his sister. But necessytie, that maistereth both shame and feare, brake a passadge for his imprysoned intent. Sweete Cassandra (quoth he), that men love is usuall, but to subdue affection is impossyble ; and so thornie are the motions of incontinent desire, as to finde ease the tongue is only occupied to perswade. The purse is ever open to entice, and wheare neither words nor giftes can corrupt (with the mightie) force shall constrayne, or dispight avenge. That Promos do love is but just : thy beautie commaundes hym : that Promos be refused is more just, because consent is thy shame. Thou maiste refuse and lyve ; but he beynge rejected, I die : for, wantyng his wyll in thee, he wyll wreake his teene on mee. This is my hard estate : my lyfe lieth in thy infamie, and thy honour in my death. Which of these evylles be leaste I leave for thee to judge. The wofull Cassandra answered, that death was the leaste ; whose darte we can not shunne, when honour, in deathes dispight, outlyveth tyme. It is true, (quoth Andrugio), but thy trespasse wyll be in the leaste degree of blame ; for in forced faultes justice sayth, there is no intent of evyll. Oh Andrugio, (quoth she), intent is now adayes lytic considred: thou art not condemned by the intent, but by the strickt worde of the law : so shall my crime bee reproched, and the forced cause passe unexcused ; and such is the venome of envye, one evill deede shall disgrace ten good turnes, and in this yeelding, so shall I be valued : envye, disdaine, spight, mallice, sclaunder, and many moe furies will endevour to shame mee, and the meanest vertue wyll blush to help to support my honour ; so that I see no lybertie for thee but death, nor no ease for mee but to hasten my ende. O yes (quoth Andrugio), for if this offence be known thy fame will bee enlarged, because it will lykewise bee knowne that thou receavedst dishonor to give thy brother lyfe ; if it be secreat, thy conscience wyl be without scruple of guiltinesse. Thus, knowne, or unknowne, thou shalt be deflowred, but not dishonested, and for amends wee both shall lyve. This further hope remaineth ; that as the gilliflower both pleaseth the eye and feedetli the sence, even so the vertue of thy chast behaviour may so grace thy bewty, as Promos filthie lust may bee turned into faithfull love, and so move him to salve thy honour in making thee hys wife, or for conscience forbeare to doe so heynous an injurie. Soveraigne maddame, and you, faire gentlewomen (quoth Isabella), I intreate you in Cassandras behalfe, these reasons well wayed, to judge her yeelding a constrainte, and no consent ; who, werie of her owne life, and tender over her brothers, with the teares of her lovely eyes bathed his cheekes, with this comfortable sentence. Lyve, Andrugio, and make much of this kisse, which breatheth my honour into thy bowels, and draweth the infamie of thy first trespasse into my bosome. The sharpe incounters betweene life and death so occupied Andrugios sences, that his tongue had not the vertue to bid her fare well. To greeve you with the hearing of Cassandras secreate plaints were an injurie, vertuous ladies, for they concluded with their good fortune, and everlasting fame ; but for that her offence grew neyther of frayltie, free wyl, or any motion of a woman, but by the meere inforcement of a man, because she would not staine the modest weedes of her kynde, shee attired her selfe in the habit of a page, and with the bashful! grace of a pure virgin, shee presented wicked Promos Andrugioes precious ran some. This devill in huraaine shape, more vicious then Hyliogabalus of Home, and withaU, as cruell as Denis of Sicyll, receaved this juell with a thousande protestations of favour. But what should I say? in the beginnyng of his love Promos was metamorphosed into Priapus : and of a feende what may we expect but vengeaunce heaped upon villany ? And therefore, let it not seeme straunge, that after this helhound had dishonoured Cassandra, hee sent his warrant to the gayler pryvely to execute Andrugio, and, with his head crowned with these two breefes, in Promos name to present Cassandra: MEASUEE EOE MEASURE. [iNTROD. Eayre Cassandra, as Promos promist tbee, From pryson, loe, he sendes thy brother free. Tliis was his charge, whose cursed wyll had ben executed, had not God, by an especiall providence, at the liowre of his death, possessed An drugio with the vertues of the two brave Eomanes, IMarcus Crassus and ]\Iarius, the one of whiche by the force of his tongue, and the other by the motions of his eyes, caused the axe to fall out of the headsmans hand, and moUyfyed his cruell mynde. With lyke compas- sion, the gayler (in hearinge Andrugios hard adventure) left his resolution ; and uppon a solenipne othe to live unknowne, yea, to his deare sister, he gave him life, and in the dead of the night, betooke him to God, and to good fortune : which done, this good gayler tooke the head of a yonge man newe executed, who some- what resembled Andrugio, and, according to lewde Promos commaundement, made a present thereof to Cassandra. How unwelcome this present was, the testimonie of her former sorowes somewhat discover ; but to give her present passion a true grace were the taske of Prometheus, or such a one as hath had experience of the anguishes of hell. 0 ! quoth shee, sweete Andrugio, whether shall I firste lament thy death, exclaime of I'romos injurie, or bemone my owne estate, deprived of honour ? and which is worse, cannot die but by the violence of my owne hands. Alas ! the least of these greefes are to heavie a burden for a man, then all, joyned in one poore womans hearte, can not be eased but by death ; and to be avenged of inju- rious fortune, I wil fortliwitli cut my fillet of life. But so shall Promos lewdnesse escape unpunished : what remedie ? I am not of power to revenge ; to complayne, I expresse my owne infamie, but Avithal proclaime his vilanie : and to heare his lewdnes reproved woulde take away the bitternesse of my death. I will goe unto the king, who is just and merciful! : hee shall heare the ruthfuU events of Promos tyrrannie ; and to give him example of vengeaunce, I will seale my complaintes witli my dearest bloode. Continuing this determination, Cassandra buried her imagined brothers heade, and with speed jornyed unto king Corvinus court ; before whose presence M'hen shee arrived, her mourninge attyre, but especially her modest countenaunce, moved him to beholde her with an especiall regarde. Cassandra (uppon the graunt of audience) with her eyes overcharged with teares, reported the alreadie discoursed accidentes with suche an apparaunce of greefe, as the king and his attendants were astonied to heare her ; and sure had shee not been happily prevented, shee had concluded her determination witli chast Lucretias destiny. The king comforted her Avith many gratious words, and promised to take such order, that (although he could not be revived) her brotliers death should fidly be revenged, and her erased honour repayred withoute blemysh of her former reputation. Cassandra, upon these comfortable wordes, a lytell succoured her afflicted liart, and with patience attended the justice of the king ; wdio with a chosen companie made a ]):'ogresse to Julio, and cntred the town with a semblaunce of great favour towardes Promos, by that colour to learne what other corru])te majestrates ruled in the cittie : for well he knewe that byrdes of a feather would flie together, and wicked men would joyne in affection to boulster each others evil. After this gratious king had by heedfull intelligence understoode the factions of the people, unlooked for of the magistrates, he caused a proclamation to be published, in which was a clause, that if anie person coulde charge anie magistrate or officer with anie notable or ha}Tious offence, treason, murder, rape, sedition, or with any such notorious crime, where they were the judges of the multitude, hee woulde himselfe bee the judge of them, and doe justice unto the meanest. Uppon this proclamation it was a hell to lieare the exclamations of the poore, and the festered consciences of the rich appeared as lotlisomc as the river of Stix. Among manie that complayned, and received judgement of comfort, Cassandras processe was INTROD.] MEASURE EOE MEASURE. 15 presented, who, lead betweene sorrow and shame, accused Promos to his face. The evidence was so playne, as the horrour of a guiltie conscience reaved Promos of all motions of excuse ; so that holding up his hande among the worst degree of theeves, the litle hope that was leaft moved him to confesse the crime, and with repentance to sue for mercy. 0! (quoth the king) such espetial mercy were tyrannic to a common wealth. No, Promos, no : Hoc facias alteri, quod tibi vis fieri : you shall be measured with the grace you betowed on Andrugio. 0 God ! (quoth hee) if men durst bark as dogges, manie a judge in the world would be bcAVTayed for a theefe. It behove th a prince to know to whom hee committeth authoritie, least the sword of justice, appointed to chasten the lewde, wound the good; and where good subjects are wronged, evill officers receave the benefit, and their soveraignes beareth the blame. Well, wicked Promos, to scourge thy impious offences, I heere give sentence, that thou foorthwith marry Cassandra, to repayre her honour by thee violated, and that the next day thou lose thy head, to make satisfaction for her brothers death. This just judgement of the good kinge in the first point was foorthwith executed ; but sacred is the authoritie, that the vertues of the good are a sheelde unto the lewde : so sweete Cassandra, who (simply) by vertue overcame the spiglit of fortune, in this marriadge was charged with a new assault of sorrow, and preferring the dutie of a wife before the naturall zeale of a sister, where she before prosecuted the revenge of her brothers deatli, shee now was an humble suter to the kinge for her husbands lyfe. The gracious kinge sought to appease her with good words, but hee could not do her this private favour without injurie unto the publyke weale ; for thougli (quoth he) your sute be just, and the bounden dutie of a wife, yet I in fulfillyng the same should do injustly, and (generally) injure my subjects : and therfore, good gentle- woman, have patience, and no doubt vertue in the ende wiU give you power over all your afflictions. There was no remedie : Cassandra must departe out of hope to obtayne her sute ; but as the experience is in dayly use, the dooinges of princes post through the world on Pegasus backe, and as theyr actions are good or badde, so is their fame. With the lyke speede the kynges justice, and Promos execution was spred abroad, and by the tonge of a clowne was blowen into Andrugioes eares, who tyll then lyved lyke an outlawe in the desart wooddes. But upon these newes, covertly in the habyt of an hermyt, by the divine motion of the sowle who directes us in thinges that be good, and the flesshe in actions of evyll, Andrugio goes to see the death of his capitall enemie ; but, on the other parte, regardyng the sorrow of his sister, he wisshed him lyfe as a friende. To conclude, as well to geve terrour to the lewde, as comfort to his good subjectes, the kyng (personallie) came to see the execution of Promos ; avIio, garded with officers, and strengthened with the comfortable perswasions of his gliostly fathers, among whom Andrugio was, meekely offered his lyfe as a satisfaction for his offences, which were many more then the lawe tooke knowledge of : and yet, to say the trueth, suche was his repentance, as the multitude did both forgeve and pittie him ; yea, the king wondred that his lyfe was governed with no more vertue, consideryng the grace he showed at his death. Andrugio, behouldyng this ruethful spectackle,was so overcome with love towardes his sister, as, to give her comfort, he franckly consented anew to emperill his own life ; and followinge this resolution, in his hermyts weede, ii])on his knees he humblye desired the kinge too give hym leave to speake. The kj ng (gratiously) graunted hym audience. Wherupon (quoth he), regarded soveraigne, if lawe may possibly be satisfied, Promos true repentance meritteth pardon. Good father (quoth the king) he can not live, and the lawe satisfied, unlesse (by miracle) Andrugio be revived. Then (quoth the hermyt) if Andrugio lyve, the law is satisfied, and Promos discharged. I (quoth the king), if your praier can revive the one, my mercie shall acquite the other. I humbly thanke your Majestic IG MEASURE EOR MEASURE. [iNTROD. (quoth Andrui^io) ; and discovcryng liimselfe, shewed the providence of God and the meane of liis escape : and tcndrvnge his sisters, comfort a])ove his owne safetie, liee prostrated him selfe at his Majesties fcete, humblye to obay the sentence of his pleasm-e. The kinge uppon the reporte of this straunge adventure, after good dehberation, pardoned Promos, to keepe his worde, and withall, houldyng an oi)inyon that it was more benefitiall for the citezens to be ruled by their ohle evell governour, new refourmed, then to adventure u})pon an newc, whose behaviours ^vere unknowne ; and to perfect Cassandras joye, he pardoned her brother Andrugio, witli condition that he should marrie Polina, Thus, from betweene the teethe of daunger every partie was preserved, and in the ende establyslied in their hartes desire. It is by no means improbable tbat tlie first of tbese tales was known to Sliakespeare, even altliougli be bas adopted alterations introduced by AYbetstone into bis Promos and Cassandra ; and tbere appear to be a few minor indications wbicli lead to tbe conclusion tbat tbe Italian drama on tbe subject, as well as tbe novel, bad been perused by tbe great dramatist. Cintbio's tragedy of Epitia, as previously observed, was not publisbed, bowever, till some years after tbe appearance of Wbetstone's drama. In tbe latter, tbe youtb is sentenced for tbe lesser crime of seduction, and be is saved, as in Measure for Measm'c, by tbe substitution of anotber bead ; but tbe great improvement, by wbicb tbe tale is so mucb purified, is tbe introduction of ]Mariana, an incident for wbicb w e are indebted to Sliakespeare bimself. Tbe substitution of IMariana in tbe garden-bouse not only reconciles tbe reader to tbe development of tbe story, but softens bis indignation at tbe infamy of Angelo, and removes wliat would otberwise be considered tbe glaring inconsistency of Isabella's intercession. Tbe sojourn of tbe Duke in tbe city in disguise is also one of Sliakespeare's introductions. As tbe play of Promos and Cassandra is reprinted at tbe end of tbe notes, carefully re-collated witb a copy of tbe original edition preserved in tbe Britisb ^Museum, it is scarcely necessary to enter at lengtli into tbe question of tbe extent of Sliakespeare's obli<>'ations to Wbetstone. Tbe cliief aim of tbe editor of tbe present work is directed to tbe accumulation of autbentic ma- terials, ratlicr tban to offer to tbe reader discussions on points of tliis description, especially in cases wliere an attentive perusal of tbose materials will convey a better knowledge of tbe subject tban could be obtained from any critical analysis, bowever elabo- rate. Tbere is sufficient evidence tbat tbe great dramatist was acquainted witb tbe elder play, but tbe similarities to be traced between tbat drama and jNIeasure for jMeasure are not of striking inq)ortance. A few of tbe most curious are mentioned in tbe notes ; and it is wortliy of remark tbat Sliakespeare appears to INTEOD.] MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 17 have taken the idea of the title of his comedy from a couplet in the first part of Whetstone's play, in which a person who deceives others is said to deserve himselfe lyke measure to receyve," a passage which would naturally suggest the adoption of the old proverb of Measure for Measure, which occurs in A Warning for Faire Women, 1599, and is alluded to by Shakespeare in the Third Part of Henry VI. Malone is of opinion that in the speech of the Duke in the first act, commencing, "I love the people," &c., there is an aUusion to the great dislike of James I. to popular applause; and as the play Avas acted before that sovereign soon after his acces- sion to the throne, it certainly is not impossible that an apology of this kind for a reserve which does not appear to have well pleased the English public, would have been highly relished by the king. James had exhibited early in life a fondness for the " life removed." As early as the year 1586, he is thus de- scribed by a contemporary, — "Generally, he seemeth desirous of peace, as appeareth by his disposition and exercis; viz., his great delight in hunting, his private delight in enditing poesies, and in one or both of these commonly he spendeth the day, when he hath no public thing to do; his desire to withdraw himself from places of most access and company, to places of more solitude and repose, with very small retinue." A similar taste pervaded his movements after he had ascended the throne of these realms; and in his progress from Edinburgh to London, "he w^as faine," observes the writer of A True Narration of the Entertainment of his Royall Majestic, 1603, "to publish an in- hibition against the inordinate and dayly accesse of peoples comming." In his "publick appearance," observes Wilson, "especially in his sports, the accesses of the people made him so impatient, that he often dispersed them with frowns, that we may not say with curses." There is something still more definite in the account which Sir Simonds d'Ewes gives of the king's conduct in his progress to Parliament in the year I62I, — "In the King's short progress from Whitehall to Westminster, these passages following were accounted somewhat remarkable; First, that he spake often and lovingly to the people, standing thick and three-fold on all sides to behold him, 'God bless ye! God bless ye!' contrary to his former hasty and passionate custom, wldch often in his sudden distemper ivould bid a plague on such as foched to see him: Secondly, that though the windows were filled v(\t\\ m. 3 18 MEASURE EOR MEASURE. [iNTKOD. many great ladies as he rode along, yet that he spake to none of them hut to the Marqviis of Buckingham's mother and wife, Avho Avas the sole dauo-hter and heiress of the Earl of Rutland : Thirdly, that he spake particularly and howed to the Count of Gondomar, the Spanish amhassador; and fourthly, that look- ing up to one window as he passed, full of gentle- women or ladies in yellow hands, he cried out aloud, 'A take ye, are ye there?' at which heing much ashamed, they all withdrew tliem- selyes suddenly from the window." This graphic account certainly confirms the possihility of ^lalone's conjecture, which, howeyer, it is scarcely necessary to ohserye, is not founded on eyidence. If it he admitted, another passage may he pro- duced which also tends to the same conclusion, — " and eyen so the general," &.c. The other argu- ments adduced hy ^lalone respecting the chro- nology do not appear to he of any importance ; and, indeed, the principal one, an imitation of a passage in Pleasure for Pleasure hy Barksted, in 1607, is rendered of little yalue hy the recent discoyery that the play was performed at White- hall, before the Court, on December 26th, 1604, the following entry occurring in the original account-book preserved at the Audit Office, Somerset House, — " On St. Stiyens night in the ^ hall a play caled Mesur for ^lesur." The author's name is recorded as Shaxherd, a curious eyidence of the scribe's ignorance of the poet's real appella- tion. The discovery of this curious entry AA as made by ^Ir. P. Cunningham, and it was pub- lished in his Extracts from the Accounts of the Reyels at Court, 8yo. Lond. 1842, p. 204. A facsimile of this important notice, the earliest mention of the comedy known to exist, is here v.^'^ given from the original manuscript; and the pro- ^■^-^^ bability is that the play itself was written not long previously to the date of this performance. The entry occurs in the book of accounts that extend from October, 1604, to October, 1605, the title in the MS. being, "The Accompte of the Office of the 'I INTROD.] MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 19 Revelles of this whole yeres Charge in anno 1604, untell the last of Octohar, 1605." It is clear, therefore, that Measure for Measure was performed before the Court a few days previously to the close of the year 1604; but it was not printed before its appearance in the collective edition of 1623. The allusions to "these black masks," in the second act, is a strong testimony in favour of the opinion that the comedy was written with a view to its performance at Court ; for if, as is very probable, the masks alluded to are those of the audience, Shakespeare would scarcely have been likely so to have flattered an ordinary assem- blage at a public theatre. In Measure for Measure, Shakespeare has infinitely purified a barbarous tale, which the taste of the age authorised as a legi- timate subject for dramatic representation; and he has converted it into a generic history of the ever-continuing struggle between chastity and incontinence. As far as a narrative of the kind coidd possibly be made subservient to the purposes of a moral, that end has been in an extraordinary degree accomplished by this singular composition, which exhibits, in an outline of wonderful power, how frequently is the impulse of temptation irresistible to a mind that relies upon its own strength for protection. The prayers of Angelo came from his lips, not from his heart, and he fell a victim to a passion which he would otherwise either have stifled in its conception, or sought to gratify by lawful means. There are indications which appear to suggest that the Duke himself, notwithstanding his openly expressed commenda- tions of the Deputy's qualities, has some secret misgivings that "power may change purpose," and that Lord Angelo may not surrender his trust with an unscathed conscience. It is not, indeed, impossible that the Duke is throughout intending to make trial of Angelo, and that he Avas induced to this by his knowledge of the history of Mariana, his acquaintance with her melancholy story appearing to be incompatible with a sincerely high estimation of him. At all events, whether this be the case or not, there can scarcely be a doubt but that the main action of the drama depends on the temptation and fall of Angelo, and that these are the incidents selected by the poet for the develop- ment of his intention, to Avhich the other transactions of the comedy, including the noble advocacy of the sagacious and eloquent Isabella for her brother, are merely accessories. The author has rendered the story subservient to the inculcation of 20 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. [iNTROU. mercy towards offenders of the class to which Claudio heloiiged, on the ground that, were the secrets of all hearts known, the severe interpreter of the laws of chastity would not infrequently he involved in the penalties of the judgment that he passes on the errors of others ; and he has accomplished this object, without leaving on the mind the slightest trace of sympathy with the offence that is pardoned. PERSONS REPRESENTED. ViNCENTio, Duhe of Vienna. Angelo, Lord Deputy in the Duke's absence. EscALUS, an ancient Lord, joined with Angelo in the Deputation. Claudio, a young Gentleman. Lucio, a Fantastic. Two other like Gentlemen. Varrius, a Gentleman, Servant to the Duhe. Provost. Peter, j A Justice. Elbow, a simple Constable. Eroth, a foolish Gentleman. Clown, Servant to Mrs. Over- done. Abhorson, an Executioner. Barnardine, a dissolute Prisoner. Isabella, Sister to Claudio. Mariana, betrothed to Angelo. Juliet, beloved by Claudio. Eranctsca, a Nun. Mistress Over-Done, a Bawd. Lords, Gentlemen, Guards, Gaoler, OJficers, and Attendants. SCENE, Vienna. SCENE I. — An apartment in the Duke's Palace. Enter Duke, Escalus, Lords, and Attendants. Duke. Escalus, — Escal. My lord. Duke. Of government the properties to unfold. Would seem in me t' affect speech and discourse; Since I am put to know^ that your own science Exceeds, in that, the lists of all advice My strength can give you. Then no more remains. But that to your sufficiency, as your worth is able. You let it work." The nature of our people, Our city's institutions, and the terms^ For common justice, y' are as pregnant in. As art and practice hath enriched any That we remember: There is our commission, From which we wovdd not have you warp. — Call hither, I say, bid come before us Angelo. \_Exit an Attendant. What figure of us think you he will bear? For you must know, we have with special soul* Elected him our absence to supply; Lent him our terror, dress'd him with our love ; And given his deputation all the organs Of our own power; What think you of it? 24 MEASUEE FOR MEASURE. [act I. sc. I. Escal. If any in Vienna be of worth To undergo such ample graee and honour, It is lord Angelo. Enter Angelo. Duke. Look, where he comes. Aug. Always obedient to your grace's will, I come to know" your pleasure.^ Duke. Angelo, There is a kind of character in thy life," That, to th' observer, doth thy history Fully unfold. Thyself and thy belongings Are not thine own so proper,' as to waste Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee.^ Heaven doth with us, as we with torches do; Not light them for themselves :^ for if our virtues Did not go forth of us,^° 't were all alike As if we had them not. Spirits are not finely touch d, But to fine issues nor Nature never lends The smallest scruple of her excellence, But, like a thrifty goddess, she determines Herself the glory of a creditor. Both thanks and use.^^ But I do bend my speech To one that can my part in him advertise Hold, therefore, Angelo [Ilanding hhn the Cot/n/ilsslon. In our remove, be thou at full ourself : Mortality and mercy^' in Vienna Live in thy tono-ue and heart. Old Escalus, Though first in qucstion,^*^ is thy secondary: Take thy commission. Aii(/. Now, good my lord. Let there be some more test made of my metal, Before so noble and so o-reat a fio-ure Be stamped upon it. DiiJi'e. No more evasion: We have with a leaven'd and prejiared choice^' Proceeded to you: therefore take your honours. Our haste from hence is of so quick condition. That it prefers itself,^' and leaves unquestion'd Matters of needful value. We shall write to you. As time and our concernings shall im})ortune. How it goes with us; and do look to know^'' ACT I. SC. II.] MEASUEE EOE MEASURE. 25 What doth befall you here. So, fare you well : To th' hopeful execution do I leave you Of your eommissions. Jng. Yet, give leave, my lord, That we may bring you something on the way. Duke. My haste may not admit it ; Nor need you, on mine honour, have to do With any scruple: your scope is as mine own,"*^ So to enforce, or qualify the laws. As to your soul seems good. Give me your hand; I '11 privily away: I love the people. But do not like to stage me to their eyes :"^ Though it do well,"^ I do not relish well Their loud applause, and aves vehement; Nor do I think the man of safe discretion, Tliat does affect it. Once more, fare you well. AiKj. The heavens give safety to your purposes! Escal. Lead forth, and bring you back in happiness. Duke. I thank you : Fare you well. \_Exit. Escal. I shall desire you, sir, to give me leave To have free speech with you; and it concerns me To look into the bottom of my place : A power I have; but of what strength and nature I am not yet instructed. An (J. 'T is so with me: — Let us withdraw together, And we may soon our satisfaction have Touching that point. Escal. 1 '11 wait upon your honour. [Exeunt. SCENE IL— J Street in Vienna. Enter Lucio"^ a^id two Gentlemen. Lucio. If the duke, with the other dukes, come not to com- position with the king of Hungary, why, then all the dukes fall upon the king. 1 Gent. Heaven grant us its peace,"^ but not the king of Hungary's ! 2 Gent, Amen. Lucio. Thou conclud'st like the sanctimonious pirate, that went to sea with the ten commandments, but scrap'd one out of the table. in. 4 2G MEASURE FOU MEASURE. [act I. sc. II. 2 Gent. Thou slialt not steal? Luc'to. Ay, that he raz d. 1 Gent. Why, 't was a eommaiuhiient''' to command the ea})tain, and all the rest, from their funetions; they put forth to steal. There's not a soldier of us all, that, in the thanksgiying ])efore meat, doth relish the petition well that prays for peaee."" 2 Gent. 1 neyer heard any soldier dislike it. Lffcio. I helieye thee; for, I think, thou neyer wast where grace was said. 2 Gent. No? a dozen times at least. 1 Gent. What? in metre? Ltfclo. In any proportion,'' or in any language. 1 Gent. I think, or in any religion. LiK'io. Ay! why not? Grace is grace,'^ despite of all con- troyersy: As for example: Thou thyself art a wicked yillain, despite of all grace. 1 Gent. Well, there went hut a pair of shears hetween us.'^ Lifcio. I grant; as there may hetween the lists and the yelyet. Thou art the list. 1 Gent. And thou the yelyet: thou art good yelyet; thou 'rt a three-pil'd piece, I warrant thee : I had as lief be a list of an English kersey, as be pil'd, as thou art pil'd, for a French yelyet.^" Do I speak feelingly now? Lucio. I think thou dost; and, indeed, with most painful feeling of thy speech, I will, out of thine own confession, learn to begin thy health; but, whilst I liye, forget to drink after thee. 1 Gent. I think I haye done myself wrong, haye I not? 2 Gent. Yes, that thou hast, whether thou art tainted or free. Lucio. Behold, behold, where madam Mitigation^^ comes! He has purchas'd as many diseases under her roof as come to — 2 Gent. To what, I pray? Lucio. Judge. 2 Gent. To three thousand dollars^" a year. 1 Gent. Ay, and more. Lucio. A French crown more.^^ 1 Gent. Thou art always figuring diseases in me: but thou art full of error; I am sound. Lucio. Nay, not as one would say, healthy; but so sound as things that are hollow^: thy bones are hollow :^^ Impiety has made a feast of thee. ACT I. SC. II.] MEASURE EOR MEASURE. 27 Enter Mistress Overdone. 1 Gent. How now? Which of your hips has the most pro- found sciatica Over. Well, well ; there's one yonder arrested, and carried to prison, was w orth five thousand of you all. 1 Gent. Who 's that, I pray thee ? Over. Marry, sir, that 's Claudio, signior Claudio. 1 Gent. Claudio to prison! 't is not so. Over. Nay, hut I know 't is so ; I saw him arrested ; saw him carried away; and, which is more, within these three days his head to be chopp'd ofF.^*^ Lncio. But, after all this fooling, I would not have it so. Art thou sure of this? Over. I am too sure of it ; and it is for getting madam Julietta with child. Lucio. Believe me, this maybe: he promis'd to meet me two hours since, and he was ever precise in promise-keeping. 2 Gent. Besides, you know, it draws something near to the speech we had to such a purpose. 1 Gent. But, most of all, agreeing with the proclamation. Lucio. Away; let 's go learn the truth of it. [Exeunt Lucio and Gentlemen. Over. Thus, what with the war, what with the sweat," what with the gallows, and what with poverty, I am custom-shrunk. How now? what 's the news with you? Enter Clown. Clo. Yonder man is carried to prison. Over. Well; what has he done? CJo. A woman.^^ Over. But what 's his offence? Clo. Groping for trouts in a peculiar river. Over. What, is there a maid with child by him? Clo. No; but there 's a woman with maid by him. You have not heard of the proclamation,^^ have you? Over. What proclamation, man? Clo. All houses in the suburbs^^ of Vienna must be pluck'd down. Over. And what shall become of those in the city? Clo. They shall stand for seed:*' they had gone down too, but that a wise burgher put in for them. 28 MEASrilE YOn MEASURE. [act I. sc. II. Orcr. But shall all our houses of resort iu tlic suhurbs be pulld down? r/r>. To the ground, mistress. Orcr. Why, here's a change, indeed, in the commonwealth! What shall l)ccome of me? r/o. Come; fear not you: good counsellors lack no clients: thoiigh you change your })lace, you need not change your trade : 1 "11 be your tapster still. Courage ; there ^yill he pity taken on you: you that liaye worn your eyes almost out in the seryice, you will be considered. Orer. AVhat's to do here, Thomas Tapster ?^ Let 's withdraw\ Clo. Here comes signior Claudio, led by the Proyost to prison: and there 's madam Juliet. [Exeunt. Enter PiioyosT, Claudio, Gaoler," and Officers ; Lucio, and two Gentlemen. Claud. Fellows why dost thou show me thus to th' world ? Bear me to prison, where I am committed. Pro. I do it not in eyil disposition. But from lord Angelo by special charge. C/aifd. Thus can the dcmi-god. Authority, Make us pay down for our offence by weight.*' — The word of hcayen — on whom it will, it will ; On whom it will not, so ; yet still 't is just. Lucio. Why, how now, Claudio? whence comes this restraint? « Claud. From too nmch liberty, my Lucio, liberty: As surfeit is the father of nuicli fast, So eyery scope, by the immoderate use,'^' Turns to restraint. Our natures do pursue, — Like rats that raycn down their proper bane,*' — A thirsty eyil ; and when we drink, w e die. Lucio. If I could speak so wisely under an arrest, I would send for certain of my creditors. And yet, to say the truth, 1 had as lief hayc the foppery of freedom, as the morality of imprisonment.^' — What's thy offence, Claudio? Claud. What but to s])eak of would offend again Lucio. What, is 't murder? Claud. Xo. Lucio. I^echery ? Claud. Call it so. Pro. Away, sir ; you must go. ACT T. SC. II.] MEASUUE EOH MEASURE. 29 Claud. One word, good friend : — Lucio, a word with you. [He takes him aside. Lucio. A hundred, if they 11 do you any good. — Is lechery so look'd after? Claud. Thus stands it with me : — Upon a true contract,*^ I got possession of Julietta's hed ; You know the lady; she is fast my wife, Save that we do the denunciation lack®° Of outward order : this we came not to, Only for propagation of a dow er" Remaining in the coffer of her friends ; F^rom whom we thought it meet to hide our love, Till time had made them for us. But it chances, The stealth of our most mutual entertainment,'^ With character too gross, is writ on Juliet. Lucio. With child, perhaps? Claud. Unhappily, even so. And the new deputy now for the duke, — Whether it be the fault and glimpse of newness Or whether that the body public be A horse whereon the governor doth ride. Who, newly in the seat, that it may know He can command, lets it straight feel the spur ; Whether the tyranny be in his place. Or in his eminence that fills it up, I stao-o-er in : — But this new siovernor Awakes me all the enrolled penalties. Which have, like unscoar'd armour,^* hung by th' wall So long, that nineteen zodiacs have gone round, And none of them been worn ; and, for a name,^^ Now puts the drowsy and neglected act Freshly on me : — 'tis surely for a name. Jjucio. I warrant, it is : and thy head stands so tickle^" on thy shoulders, that a milkmaid, if she be in love, may sigh it off* Send after the duke, and appeal to him. Claud. I have done so, but he 's not to be found. I prithee, Lucio, do me this kind service ; This day my sister should the cloister enter, And there receive her approbation Acquaint her with the danger of my state ; Implore her in my voice, that she make friends To the strict deputy; bid herself assay him ; 30 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. [act I. sc. III. 1 liavc grcjit hope in that: for in her youth 'I'here is a prone and speechless dialect,''' Such as moves men ; hesidc, she hath prosperous art When she will jday with reason and discourse, And well she can persuade. Ltu'io. 1 pray, she may: as well for the encourao;cment of the like, which else would stand under grievous imposition as for the enjoying of thy life, who I would he sorry shoidd be thus foolishly lost at a game of tick-tack."' I '11 to her. Cloud. I thank you, "ood friend Lucio. Lucio. Within two hours, — Claud. Come, officer, away. [Exeunt. SCENE III.— ^ Monaster!/. Enter Duke and Friar Thomas. DuJxC. No, holy father ; throw^ away that thought ; Believe not that the dribblino; dart of love''^ Can ])icree a complete bosom : why I desire thee To give me secret harbour, hath a purpose ^lore grave and wrinkled than the aims and ends Of burniii"' youth. Friar. ^Ifiy your grace speak of it ? JJuIiC. ^ly holy sir, none better kno^^ s than you » ft ft llow' I have ever lov'd the life reniov'd And held in idle ])rice to haunt assemblies,''" Where youth, and cost, and witless bravery keep.''" I have delivered to lord Angelo (A man of stricture," and firm abstinence) ^ly absolute power and })laee here in Vienna, And he supposes me travelFd to Poland : For so I have strew'd it in the common ear, And so it is reeeiv'd. Now^ pious sir, A^ou will demand of me why I do this. Friar, (iladly, my lord. Duke. We have strict statutes, and most biting laws, (The needful bits and curbs to headstrong steeds,''') W Inch for these fourteen years we have let sleep Even like an overgrown lion in a cave, That goes not out to prey."'' Now% as fond fathers, ACT I. SC. IV.] MEASURE EOR MEASURE. 31 Having bound up the threat'ning twigs of birch, Only to stick it in their children's sight, For terror, not to use in time the rod Becomes more mock'd than fear'd so our decrees, Dead to infliction, to themselves are dead ; And liberty plucks justice by the nose The baby beats the nurse, and quite athwart Goes all decorum. Fri. It rested in your grace To imloose this tied-up justice, when you pleased : And it in you more dreadful would have seem'd. Than in lord Angelo. Duke. I do fear, too dreadful : Sith 't was my fault to give the people scope, 'T would be my tyranny to strike and gall them For what I bid them do : For we bid this be done,"' When evil deeds have their permissive pass. And not the punishment. Therefore, indeed, my father, I have on Angelo impos'd the office ; Who may, in th' ambush of my name, strike home,^' And yet my nature never in the fight. To do me slander. And to behold his sway, I will, as 't were a brother of your order, Visit both prince and people : therefore, I prithee, Supply me with the habit, and instruct me How I may formally in person bear me^'' Like a true friar. More reasons for this action, At our more leisure shall I render you; Only this one : — lord Angelo is precise ; Stands at a guard with envy;^^ scarce confesses That his blood flows, or that his appetite Is more to bread than stone. Hence shaU we see, If power change purpose, what our seemers be. [^E^rennt. SCENE lY.-^The Numiery of St. Clare. Enter Isabella and Francisca. Isah. And have you nuns no further privileges? Fran. Are not these large enough ? Isab. Yes, truly: I speak not as desiring more. 32 MEASURE EOrt MEASURE. [act I. sc. IV. Biit rather wishiiio- a more strict restraint Upon the sisterhood, the votarists of St. Clare. Lucio. llo I Peace be m this place ! [If ^if/fin. Isab. Who 's that which calls ? Fran. It is a man's voice : Gentle Isabella, Turn yon the key, and know his business of him ; Yon may ; I may not ; you are yet unsworn : • • « AVhen yon have yow'd, you nuist not speak with men, But in the presence of the prioress : Then, if you speak, yon must not show your face ; Or, if you show your face, you nmst not speak. He calls again ; I pray you, answer him. \^Ex'd Fkancisca. Isab. Peace and prosperity! AA ho is t that calls? Enter Lucio. Lncio. Ilail, virgin, if yon be; as those cheek-roses Proclaim you are no less ! Can you so stead me, As bring me to the sight of Isabella, A novice of this ])lace, and the fair sister To her india})py brother Claudio? Is(fb. AVhy her unhappy brother ? let me ask ; The rather, for I now^ must make you know I am that Isabella, and his sister. Luck). Gentle and fair, your brother kindly greets you : Not to be weary w itli you, he 's in prison. Isdb. Woe me I For what ? Lucio. For that, which, if myself might be his judge, He should receive his punishment in thanks : He hath got his friend with child. Js((b. Sir, make me not your story. L^ucio. *T is true. I would not. Thou":h *t is my familiar sin With maids to seem the lapwing,'^ and to jest. Tongue far from heart, — play with all virgins so : I hold you as a thing enskied, and sainted ; By your renouncement, an immortal spirit ; And to be talk'd with in sincerity. As with a saint. Lsab. You do blaspheme the good, in mocking me. Lucio. Do not believe it. Fewness and truth,^* 't is thus : Your brother and his lover'" have cmbrac'd : As those that feed grow full ; as blossoming time,''' That from the seedness" the bare fallow brings ACT I. SC. IV.] MEASURE EOR MEASURE. To teeming foison ; even so her plenteous womb Expresseth his full tilth and husbandry.^^ Isah. Some one with child by him? — My cousin Juliet Lucio. Is she your cousin ? Isab. Adoptedly; as school-maids change their names, By vain though apt affection. Lucio. She it is. Isah. O, let him marry her ! Lucio. This is the point. The duke is very strangely gone from hence ; Bore many gentlemen, myself being one, In hand," and hope of action : but we do learn By those that know the very nerves of state. His givings-out were of an infinite distance From his true-meant design. Upon his place, And with full line of his authority, "° Governs lord Angelo: a man, whose blood Is very snow-broth ; one who never feels The wanton stings and motions of the sense ; But doth rebate and blunt his natural edge'^^ With profits of the mind, study and fast. He (to give fear to use^^ and liberty. Which have, for long, run by the hideous law, As mice by lions), hath pick'd out an act,'^ Under whose heavy sense your brother's life Falls into forfeit : he arrests him on it ; And follows close the rigour of the statute. To make him an example : all hope is gone. Unless you have the grace"* by your fair prayer To soften Angelo: and that's my pith of business 'Twixt you and your poor brother. Isah. Doth he so Seek his life ? Lucio. Has censur'd him already,"'' And, as I hear, the provost hath a warrant For 's execution. Isah. Alas ! what poor Ability 's in me to do him good ? Lucio. Assay the pow'r you have. Isah. My power! Alas! I doubt — Lucio. Our doubts are traitors. And make us lose the good we oft might win, III. 5 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. [act I. sc. IV. By fearinjr to attempt. Go to lord Angelo, And let him learn to know, when maidens sue, ^len give like gods ; but when they weep and kneel, All their petitions are as freely theirs As they themselves would owe them. Isab. I '11 see what I ean do. Lucio. But, speedily. hah. I will about it straight ; No longer staying but to give the IMother"^ Notiee of my affair. I humbly thank you : Conmiend me to my brother : soon at night I '11 send him eertain word of my sueeess. Lucio. I take my leave of you. Isab. Good sir, adieu. [Exeunt. ^ Since I am put to hiow. Eor put, Mr. Wheler's annotated third folio, and Pope, read not, and the Perkins manuscript, apt. Several instances of put, in the sense of ollujed or constrained, occur in Shakespeare ; in Cymbeline, Coriolanus, and 2 Henry VI. " My limbs were put to travel day and night," Drayton's Legend of Pierce Gaveston, ap. Steevens. " ^op)ut gently into one's mind, instillare aliquid alicui," Baret's Alvearie, 1580. ^ You let it worh. The original reads, — Atid let them iDorh, the pronoun them undoubtedly refer- ring to science, by that interchange of the singular and plural which has been elsewhere noticed. Even the conjunction and may possibly be justified, but in the absence of direct evidence on the point, and in deference to the universal opinion that the text is corrupt, the alteration above given has been made, involving only in reality the conjectural emendation of one monosyllable, it and them being so frequently interchangeable, the substitution of the former may be adopted as merely one example of an acknowledged system of minor grammatical modernization. The meaning of the speech is clearly this, — To unravel the mysteries of govern- ment to you would be simply affectation, since I know, or am given to understand, that your o^vn knowledge of the subject surpasses any advice it is in my power to offer ; it then only remains for me to enjoin that you employ it (your knowledge) according to your ability and your moral worth. It may be observed that instances of and, used very licentiously, occur in Cymbeline and Coriolanus ; so that it is by no means impossible that the first folio correctly represents Shakespeare's own language. So, again, in the present act, — " bore many gentlemen, myself being- one, in hand, and hope of action," where we should now read with. Some of the conjectural emendations of this passage may be worth preserving. " Put that to your sufiiciency," Rowe and Pope. " Then no more remains. To your sufficiency, as your worth is able. But that you let them work," AVheler MS. " But tasJv to your sujficience," Dent MS. " But that to your sufficiency ijou add Due diligence, as your worth is able," Theobald. " But that to your sufficiency ^jou join A idll to serve us, as your worth is able," Hanmer. " But that sufficiency, as your worth is able," Steevens, who justifies the omission of the two words by his system of metrical construction. " But that to your sufficiency i/ou put A zeal as u'illiiif/ as your worth is able," Tyrwhitt ; a reading, observes Steevens, supported by the following passage, — " enough will is not put to thy abilitie," Chapman's Homer. " But that your sufiiciency, as your worth, be able," Monck Mason. NOTES TO THE FIRST ACT. " Then no more remains, To your sufRciency your worth is able, And let tlicm work," T. IIuU's ]\IS. comments. " But to your sullicicncy your worth be added " Seymour. Tiiis is similar to the suggestion of Mr. Collier's annotator. " ]Uit to your sufficiency your worth, And let them work," Perkins MS. "But (hereto your sulliciency, as your worth is able," S.AV. Singer. M alone was strongly of opinion that a line, or rather two half lines, have been omitted l)y tlie printer, several instances of a similar negligence occurring in the early folios. Clialiuers in his Su})plemental Apology, p. -105, suggests, " / let them work," reading it thus, — " Then no more remains (for me), but that, to your sufficiency, as your worth is able, I let them (your science, sulHciency, worth,) work ;" Becket, "but that your sulliciency be, as your worth is stable ;" and Jackson, " but state to your sufficiency." " I cannot understand that by the word, suffic'ienci/, in this i)lace is meant, as "Warburton interprets it, ' authority or delegated power ;' nor do I believe that it is ever used in that signification. It means in general abilities of every kind, and I take it to comprehend on this occasion all tlie moral virtues of an able governor ; integrity, courage, steadiness, resolution, vigilance, diligence, &c. To all these taken togetlier the Duke bids Escalus add his own science, tliat is, his skill in the arts of government, as that by wliich they were all to be directed, and, as opportunities should arise, called forth into action. 'As your worth is able,' means, As your good understanding and disposition will enable you to do." — Heath. " That the passage is more or less corrupt, I believe every reader will agree with the editors. I am not convinced that a line is lost, as Theobald conjectures, nor that the change of Jjut to jutt, which Dr. AVarburton has admitted after some other editor (Bowe), Mill amend the ftiult. There was probably some original obscurity in the expression, which gave occasion to mistake in repetition or tran- scription. I therefore suspect that the author wrote thus : Then no more remains. But that to your siijficiencies your worth is atjled, xVnd let them work. " Tlien nothing remains more than to tell you, that your virtue is now in- vested with power ecpud to your knowledge and wisdom. Let therefore your knowledge and your virtue now work together. It may easily be conceived how ftiijlicieiicies was, by an inarticulate speaker, or inattentive hearer, confounded with safjiciency as, and how afjled, a word very unusual, was changed into afjle. For atjled, liowever, an authority is not wanting. Lear uses it in tlic same sense, or nearly the same, with the Duke. As for siiffieiowies, D. Hamilton, in his dying speech, prays that Charles II. may exceed both the virtues and sujjiciencies of his fatlier." — Johnson. Tiie best support of Dr. Johnson's reading is perhaps found in the use of atAe as a verb in King Tjcar. " The following passage, in King Henry IV. Part I., mIiicIi is constructed in a manner somcMhat similar to tlie present when corrected, api)cars to me to strengthen the supposition that two lialf lines have been lost : Send danger from the east unto the west. So honour cross it from the north to south, And let them grapple. '■'Sufficiency is skill in government ; ability to execute his office. And let them work, — a figurative expression ; — Let them ferment." — Malone. The terms for coinnion justice you are as pregnant in. Tenns mean the technical language of the courts. An old book called Les Termes de la Ley, written in Henry tlie Eighth's time, was in Shakespeare's days, and is now, the accidence of young students in the law. — Blaclcstone. Terms of NOTES TO THE EIRST ACT. 37 the law are explained by Jacob to be, " artificial or technical words, and terms of art particularly used in and adapted to the profession of the law." The later editions all give it, witliout authority — " the terms of justice, — " and Dr. Warburton makes terms signify hounds or limits. I rather think that the Duke meant to say that Escalus was preynaiit, that is, ready and knowing in all the forms of the law, and, among other things, in tlie teruis or times set apart for its administration. — Johnson. * We have with special soul elected him. By the words toith special soul elected him, I believe, the poet meant no more than that he was the immediate choice of his heart. A similar expression occurs in Troilus and Cressida : " — with private soul, did in great Ilion thus translate him to me." Again, more appositely, in the Tempest : " — for several virtues have I lik'd several women, never any with so full soul, but some defect," &c. — Steevens. Steevens has hit upon the true explanation of the passage ; and might have found a furtlier confirmation of it in Troilus and Cressida, where, speaking of himself, Troilus says : " ne'er did young man. fancy icith so eternal, and so fixd a soul.''' To do a thing with all one's soul, is a common expression. — M. Mason. This seems to be only a translation of the usual formal words inserted in all royal grants : — " De gratia nostra speciali, et ex mero motu — — Malone. The common reading is, 'with special soul ; where the soul is put for one of its principal faculties, the judgment ; or, at least for one of its principal operations, deliberation. — Heath. Warburton suggested to read, special roll, and Dr. Johnson, special seal. ^ I come to hiotD your pleasure. " I come to know your Grace's pleasure," ed. 1 632. There is a kind of character in thy life. Either this introduction has more solemnity than meaning, or it has a meaning which I cannot discover. What is there peculiar in this, that a man's life informs the observer of his history? Might it be supposed that Shakespeare wrote this? — " There is a kind of character in thy look.'" History may be taken in a more diffuse and licentious meaning, for future occurrences, or the part of life yet to come. If this sense be received, tlie passage is clear and proper. — Johnson. Shakespeare must, I believe, be answerable for the unnecessary pomp of this introduction. He has the same thought in Henry IV. Part II., which affords some comment on this passage before us : There is a history in all men's lives, Figuring the nature of the times deceas'd ; The which observ'd, a man may prophecy, With a near aim, of the main chance of things As yet not come to life, &c. — Steevens. Monck Mason considers that the words character and history, in the text, should be transposed; and that such a transposition is justified by the passage in Henry IV. — " The progress of thy life has marked upon thy countenance and exterior, a character, which clearly denotes what thou art." — Seymour. ^ Are not thine own so proper. One of Shakespeare's Latinisms. [Proprius, Lat.) ^ Thyself upon thy virtues, they on thee. Hanmer reads, them on thee. The meaning of the original text appears to be this, — Thyself and thy endowments are not so exclusively your own, belonging to 38 NOTES TO THE EIEST ACT. yourself, that either you are to waste your exertions upon your own virtues, or that they are to be solely exercised for your own advantage. Or, as the pronoun was frequently used somewhat capriciously, — you are not to employ your own gifts for selfish purposes. There is a slight ambiguity, wliich is either to be explained philoso])liically or grammatically. ^ Not light them for themselves. Part of this speech seems to have been suggested by the Scriptural passages, — " Neither do men liglit a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick, and it giveth light unto all that are in the house. Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven." Also, again, — " The path of the just is as a shining light, that shineth more and more unto the perfect day." For if our virtzies did not go forth of us. Every one perceives that the poet here alludes to the narrative in the Gospel, where Jesus is conscious "that virtue had gone out of him'' when the woman was cured of an issue of blood by touching his garment. Would the reader believe that these latter words, issue — touch, are used in the preceding lines, though they are applied by the poet to the operations of intellect ? — Whiter. Paulum sepultae distat inertife Celata virtus. — Ilorat. iv. 9, ap. Theobald. So in Pastor Fido, our virtues are said to be derived from, and given us by heaven. Questa parte di noi, chi intende, e vede, Non e nostra virtu, ma vien dal cielo : Esso la da come a lui piace, e toglie. And Persius says the same of knowledge, in that well-known quaint line. Scire tumn nihil est, nisi te scire hoc sciat alter. The above two extracts are taken from Dodd. Spirits are not finely touched, hut to fine issues. That is, elevated minds are not endowed with superior qualities, but, as Johnson observes, to "great consequences," and "for high purposes." — Whiter. ^~ Both tlianl'S and use. The passage ending with these words is one of the finest in the play, expressing man's responsibility in unequalled language. Use is, interest of money. " Use or commoditie of a thiiin- in the raeane time, or usurie that riseth in the meane time," Caret's Alvearie, 1580. Tlie term continued in use till a late period, for it occurs in some verses in Poor Eobin's Almanac for 1732,— Nature expects both gratitude for her favours, and rdurns for them from the persons on whom they are bestowed. To one that can my port in him advertise. " Spoken after a string of fine apothegms, all tending to set forth and advance this one truth — that man is not exclusive proprietor of his own belongings or gifts, is not born for himself only: but 1 am telling this truth, says the speaker, to one who can well discern that I have a j^art in him, a claim to be partaker with general nature in the benefit of his endowments ; and, upon saying these words, tenders him a commission that is to put them in exercise," Capell. Or, perhaps. NOTES TO THE FIEST ACT. 39 as Eann observes, is well apprised of the part I have in him, of my claim to his services ; or, of all that I could wish to impart to him. This is obscure. The meaning is, I direct my speech to one who is able to teach me how to govern ; my part in him signifying my office, which I have delegated to him. My part in him advertise; i. e., who knows what appertains to the character of a deputy or viceroy. Can advertise my part in Mm; that is, his representation of my person. But all these quaintnesses of expression the Oxford editor seems sworn to extirpate ; that is, to take away one of Sliakespeare's characteristic marks ; which, if not one of the comeliest, is yet one of the strongest. So he alters this to — " To one that can, in my part me advertise." A better expression, indeed, but, for all that, none of Shakespeare's. — Warhurton. I know not whether we may not better read — " One that can, my part to him advertise." One that can «?^om /^ms^Z/^ of that which it would be otliervvise part to tell him. — Johnson. To advertise is used in this sense, and with Shakespeare's accentuation, by Chapman, in his version of the eleventh book of the Odyssey : Or, of my father, if thy royal ear Hath been advertised — . — Steevens. I believe the meaning is — I am talking to one who is himself already sufficiently conversant with the nature and duties of my office ; — of that office, which I have now delegated to him. So, in Timon of Athens : It is our part, and promise to the Athenians, To speak with Timon. — Malone. To one that can already declare or make known all those precepts which I would impart to him : in this sense advertisement seems to be used in Much ado about Nothing : — " My griefs cry louder than advertisement." — Seymour. Hold, therefore, Angelo. Hold is here, as elsewhere, equivalent to, take it, take this, &c. The duke is offering the commission to Angelo. EalstaflF says, " Hold, sirrah," when he gives the letters to Robin. This expression is very common in old plays. The stage- direction is correctly given in Hanmer's edition. Mortality and mercy in Vienna. That is, I delegate to thy tongue the power of pronouncing sentence of death, and to thy heart the privilege of exercising mercy. These are words of great import, and ought to be made clear, as on them depends the chief incident of the play. — Bouce. Though first in question. That is, says Dr. Johnson, first called for, first appointed. Capell explains it differently, — the years of Escalus, or the offices he had held, or both, entitled him to have been first considered. We have tcith a leaven d and prepared choice. Eor leaven d, Warburton reads levelled, and Heath suggests that the true reading is, " with a prepar'd unleavend choice," using the term unleavend in the sense of, unbiassed, uninfluenced. Pope transposes the words leaven'd and prepared. " Leaven d choice^' says Johnson, " is one of Shakespeare's harsh metaphors. His train of ideas seems to be this : / have proceeded to you with choice, mature, concocted, fermented, leavened. When bread is leavened, it is left to ferment : a leavened choice is, therefore, a choice not hasty, but considerate ; 40 NOTES TO THE EIKST ACT. not declared as soon as it fell into the imagination, but suffered to work long in the mind. Thus explained, it suits better with pi-epared than levelled.'''' That it prefers itself. The haste prefers itself, takes the preference even of the matters of needful value. Rapidity is of more importance to me than anything else. And do look to hwic. 1 looke AVithin this weeke, to bee but halfe the thing You see me now ; the rest lopt off. Maine's Amorous Havre, 16^8. *° Your scope is as mine own. Scope, that is, your amplitude of power. — Br. Johnson. But do not Uhe to stage me to their eyes. So, in one of Queen Elizabeth's speeches to Parliament, 1586 : " We princes, I tel you, are set on stages, in the sight and viewe of all the world," &c. See the Copie of a Letter to the Right Honourable the Earle of Leycester, &c. 4to. Lond. 1586, p. 16. — Steevens. " Though it do icell. "By this I understand, — Tho' it may be politically usefuU in a Regent, to shew himself to his subjects occasionally." — MS. Kotes by T. Hull. Enter Lucio. " One Luzio, a roysting roague in favour with the king," is mentioned in Turbervile's Tragical Tales, f. 103. Malone thinks this may have suggested the name to Shakespeare. Heaven grant us its peace. Malone thinks that this passage helps to show the play was written in 1603, when there was some prospect of peace, but the war not ended, the bawd lament- ing afterwards that what with the tear, what with the sweat, she was custom- shrunk. The peace with Spain was proclaimed in August, 1601. The sweat, unless the venereal disorder so termed was meant, may possibly allude to the great plague of 1603. ~^ IJliy, 'twas a commandment. In the first folio, there is a mark of interrogation after the word why, but, as ]\[r. Dyce observes, this is very common in early books, even when it is merely used emphaticallv. Instances occur in Beaumont and Eletcher's Comedies and Tragedies, ful. Lond. 1617, p. 102, &c. Both relish the petition well that prays for peace. Amongst the very numerous graces to be found in the religious works of Shakespeare's time, it is rare to discover any that exactly bear out the description of the one alluded to in the text. The following, however, from the Erench Schoole-Maister, 12mo. 1612, fol. 101, may be selected, the rather as it also affords an illustration of a grace " in metre ;" — Almightie God, that men and all dost guide, Blesse these our meates and gifts thou dost provide. That thy good grace that all the world doth fill. May us thy servants keepe and succour still. NOTES TO THE FIRST ACT. 41 Preserve thy Church, and James our king; Grant perfect peace in England still be scene. " What grace before meat is known which contains a petition for peace ? Our correspondent has searched in vain for one which satisfactorily answers to Lucio's description. The only one that he has found which contains the word 'peace,' and he is not at all clear that that is the one referred to, is as follows : ' Good Lord, blesse us, blesse all thy creatures, send down thy holy spirit into our hearts, so to direct us, that we may looke for the spirituall food of our soules, and finally ever- lasting peace, through thy sonne Jesus Christ. Amen.' This occurs in a very scarce little book, entitled, ' Short questions and answeares concerning the summe of Christian Religion.' The edition of this book which has fallen under his notice is dated, London, printed by John Dawson, 1623, 8vo ; but it is clear, from the prefatory admonition addressed ' To Christian Parents and godly householders,' that the work was originally written 'under the rule and government of our mercifull Queene' Elizabeth." — Notice to Corresp. in Gent. Mag. Mr. Wheler's annotated copy of the third folio reads, — " in the thanksgiving after meat." The Dent folio makes the same alteration, but, most probably, without necessity. It is, however, worthy of remark that in the graces at the end of Robert Hill's Pathway to Prayer and Pietie, 12mo. Lond. 1609, the only one in which there is a petition for peace is the following " Grace after meate :" " We beseech thy Majestic, eternall God and gracious Eather, to make us truly and unfainedly thankfull unto thee, for aU those mercies that we have received, and for all those judgements that wee have escaped, both temporall, con- cerning this life, and eternal, concerning that life to come : for thy gracious providence this day past, for our comfortable, and peaceable, and cheerefull meeting- together in thy feare at this time, and for all thy good creatures bestowed upon us, for the comforting and refreshing of these feeble and weake bodies of ours. Now wee humblie intreate thee, that, as thou hast fed them with that food, which is convenient and necessarie for the same, so it would please thee to feede our soules with that food which perisheth not, but endureth to eternall and everlasting salvation ; so as we may seek to passe through these things temporall, that finally we lose not things eternall. Blesse with us thine universall Church, our Kings and Queenes Majestic, the Prince, and their Realmes. 0 Lord, continue thy truth and peace amongst us, with the pardon and forgivenes of all our sinnes, this day, at this time, and heretofore committed against thee, through Christ our Lord and blessed Saviour. Amen." Another metrical grace, from the Erencli Schoole-Maister, may also be added, as showing that a prayer for peace existed in both graces : Our bodies. Lord, with foode that wontest to fill. Our hearts do feede with thy word and sacred wiU, That when we come into thy heavenly place, Among thy saints we may behold thy face : Defend our Church and King with thy right hand, And aye preserve thy peace within this land. In any proportion. Proportion, says W arburton, is measure, referring to the previous question. This speech is assigned, in the first folio, to Lucio, but Heath and Ritson consider that it should be spoken by the second gentleman. There does not appear to be an absolute necessity for any alteration. Grace is grace. The discussion is whether the second gentleman has ever heard grace. He III. 6 42 NOTES TO THE EIEST ACT. replies, a dozen times at least. The first then asks, if he heard it in metre. Lucio gives him a wider scope, and says, in any proportion (measm-e), or in any language ; and the first gentleman, still more liberal, adds, " in any religion." Lucio approves of this, and says, Grace is grace in all religions, notwithstanding religious controversy. There went hut a pair of sheers between us. A common proverbial phrase, signifying, says Johnson, we are both of the same piece. The same expression is likewise found in Marston's Malcontent, 1601<: ''There goes but a pair of sheers betwixt an emperor and the son of a bagpiper; only the dying, dressing, pressing, and glossing, makes the difference." — Malone. So, in the Maid of the Mill, by Beaumont and Eletcher : " There went but a pair of sheers and a bodkin between \\\^mr Steepens. His brother. Ingratitude, though there loent but a pane of sheares betweene them, was as ugly in shape, and as blacke in soule. — DeJckers Strange Horse Bace, 1613. He consists of shreds and remnants, yet oftentimes there goes but a paire of sheeres betwixt him and a gentleman : for many gentlemen consist of outside, in which the taylor's man takes part. — Stephens' Essayes, 1615. Must but abare^;«yr^ of sheeres passe heticeene noble and ignoble, betweene the generous spirit and the base mechannick? shaU Ave be al co-heires of one honor, one estate and one habit? — Hie Midier, or the Man Woman, 1620. There went but a paire of sheeres betweene him and the pursivant of hell, for they both delight in sinne, grow richer by it, and are by justice appointed to punish it : onely the divell is more cunning, for hee pickes a living out of others gaines. — The Overbury Characters, 1626. He gives himselfe an honest good re])ort, And to himselfe he is beholden for 't : Yet 'twixt the greatest knave and him, I weene, Tiler's thus much ods, A pair of sheers between. ^ Taylor's Worhes, fol. Lond. 1630. And some report that both these fowles have scene Their like, that's but a pay re of sheeres betweene. — Ibid. As thou art piVd,for a French velvet. The jest about the pile of a Erench velvet alludes to the loss of hair in the Erench disease, a very frequent topick of our author's jocularity. Lucio finding that the gentleman understands the distemper so weU, and mentions it so feelingly, ])romises to remember to drink his health, but to forget to drinh after him. It Avas the opinion of Shakespeare's time, that the cup of an infected person Avas contagious. — Johnson. The jest lies betAveen the similar sound of the words piWd and piVd. Thus in Henry Vl. Part 1. Act 1 : ''PilVd priest, thou liest." — Steevens. Behold, behold, where Madam Mitigation comes. There is the greatest difficulty in arranging this dialogue satisfactorily. If the first folio be foUoAved, the second speech of the Eirst Gentleman does not agree Avith the context. Theobald divides the speech in the text into two, giving the above line to Lucio, and the remainder, commencing, " 1 have purchas'd," to the Eirst Gentleman. This arrangement destroys the point of Lucio in calling the baAvd Madam Mitigation, the antithesis betAveen that appellation and the purchase NOTES TO THE EIUST ACT. 43 of the diseases being evidently intentional. Pope gives the two first speeches of Lucio to the Eirst Gentleman, but the first of them is clearly in the lively style of Lucio, and cannot judiciously be taken from him. As, therefore, no substitution of speakers removes the difficulty, I have ventured to substitute he has for / have, in the first speech, in allusion to the Eirst Gentleman, whom Lucio is evidently bantering. The dialogue is arranged exactly as follows in the folio of 1623 : — Luc. Behold, behold, where Madam Mitigation comes. I haue purchas'd as many diseases vnder her Roofe, As come to 2. Gent. To what, I pray? Luc. ludge. 2. Gent. To three thousand DoUours a yeare. 1. Gent. I, and more. Luc. A Erench crowne more. 1. Gent. Thou art alwayes figuring diseases in me ; but thou art full of error, I am sound. It is worthy of remark that the address of Madam was formerly applied to persons of doubtful reputation. Thus in the Witt's Eecreations, 1654, — Together as we walk'd, a friend of mine Mistook a painted Madam for a signe. That in a window stood ; but 1 acquainted, Told him it was no wooden sign was painted, But Madam Meretrix : yea, true, said he. Yet 'tis a little sign of modesty. To three thotisand dollars a year. A quibble between dollars and dolours. See other instances of the same play upon words in vol. i, pp. 397, 412. In the first folio, the word in the text is printed dollours, as above. A French crown more. Lucio means here not the piece of money so called, but that scab which among the surgeons is styled corona Veneris. To this our author likewise makes Quince allude in A Midsummer-Night's Dream : " Some of your French croions have no hair at all ; and then you will play bare-faced." Eor where these eruptions are, the skull is carious, and the party becomes bald. — Theobald. So, in the Beturne from Pernassus, 1606 : — " I may chance indeed to give the world a bloody nose; but it shall hardly give me a crack'd crown, though it gives other poets French croicns." Again, in the dedication to Gabriel Harvey's Hunt Is tip, 1598 : — " never metst with any requital, except it were some few French crownes, pil'd friers crownes." — Steevens. " More seeming friendship is to be had in an house of transgression for a French crown, though it be a bald one, than at Belinsgate for a boxe o' tli'eare." — Vox graculi, or Jack Laices Prognostication, 4to, 1623, p. 60, ap. Douce. Thy bones are holloio. After all this, there buddeth out and appere smalle holies and sores, whiche tourne themselfe into cankers and phistuls, or continual sores ; and the more they putrifie, the more they diminishe the bone. And whan the bones be putrified and corrupte, the pacient, throughe long continuance of sicknes, waxeth leane, for the fieslie consumeth awaye, and there remayneth but on'ythe skyn to cover the bones wythall. — Of the Wood called Guaiacum, that healeth the Frenche PocJces, 12mo. Lond. 1539. 44 NOTES TO THE EIEST ACT. Which of your hips has the most profound sciatica ? " The author of the facetious Latin comedy of Cornelianum Boliuni has named one of Cornelius's strumpets Sciatica. She thus speaks of herself; — In lectulo meo aegre me vertere potui ; podagram, chiragram, et A//;-agram (si ita dicere liceat) nocte quotidie sensi." — Bouce. This comedy was published at London, 1038, 12mo. His head to he chopped off. Thus the four early folios read, and they are no doubt right, the omission of the auxiliary" verb being of common occurrence. Another instance occurs in the first act of All's Well that Ends Well. Rowe, in 1709, reads, his head is to he, &c. What with the sweat. This may either allude to the plague, or sweating-sickness, or to the "hollow" disease above mentioned. The context, however, would imply that the former complaint is meant, and although people were cured of the latter by sweating, I do not recollect any instance of that disease being called the sweat. Steevens refers to the comedy of Doctor Dodypoll, 1600 : You are very moist, sir : did you sweat all this, I pray? You have not the disease, I hope. Compare also Maine's Citye Match, 1639, p. 54 : Why, sir, I thought it duty to informe you. That you were better match a ruind bawd. One ten times cm'ed by sweating and the tub. WJiat has he done? — Clo. A woman. The clown here plays on the double meaning of the verb to do. See a similar quibble in Titus Andronicus. Hence the name of Over-done in the present drama. Mistress Overdo is the name of a character in Ben Jonson's Bartholomew Eair, produced in the year 1614. And never love thy wife a whit the worse. For which, I wis, thou art beholding to her ; Nor seeme for this to frown, brawle, sweare, and cursse. Because she hath a little beene a doer. — Fasquils Night- Cap, 1612. Yet Kate is kno'^ne, and Erancis too. Wenches that wiU not sticke to doe. Freeman s Ruhhe and a Great Cast, 1614. I urged him to speak ; But he (as mute As an old courtier worn to his last suit) Beplies with only yeas and nayes ; At last (To fit his element) my theam I cast On tradesmens gains ; that set his tongue a going ; Alas, good sir (quoth he) There is no doing In Court nor City now: she smil'd and 1, And (in my conscience) both gave him the lie. Bonne's Foems, p. 91. Groping for trouts in a peculiar river. Feculiar river, that is, says Malone, a river belonging to an individual, not public property. The metaphor in the text is again used in the Winter's Tale, and a grosser example occurs in Locrine. " Peculiar, privatus,''' Huloet's Abcedarium, 1552. NOTES TO THE FIUST ACT. 45 *° You have not heard of the proclamation. There may possibly here be an allusion to one of the proclamations, which were issued in the reigns of Elizabeth and James, against the rapid increase of buildings in the metropolis. " During the whole reign of Elizabeth," observes Chalmers, " it was a policy, which her councils continually enforced, to prevent the increase of London. In the 35th of Elizabeth, a bill was passed for restraint of buildings in London. On the 7th of July, 1580, a proclamation was issued com- manding all persons to desist from new buildings : On the 22d of June, 1602, this proclamation was renewed, and enforced. After the accession of King James, the same policy was pursued. A proclamation, against inmates, and for the pulling down oi neto ^r^c^yyfe, and therto I plyg^it the my troth.' And she agayne unto him in lyke maner. And after that done, they suppose they maye La\yfully use theyr unclene behavyoure, and sometyme the acte and dede dothe folo^ye, unto the greate offence of God and their owne souls. It is a great jeopardy therefore to make any suche contractes, specially amonge them selfe secretcly alone \yitliout recordes, which muste be two at the lest." In Strype's Annals of the Eeformatiou, i. App. p. 57, among the Interrogatories for the doctrine and manners of mynisters, early in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, is the following, which clearly implies the then use and abuse of betrothing: " 28. AYhetlier they haye exhorted yong folke to absteyne from priyy contracts, and not to marry without the consent of such their parents and fryends as haye auctority oyer them, or no." In the Cliristen State of Matrimony, 1 51-3, p. 43, Aye read: "Yet in thys thynge also must I warne everye reasonable and honest parson to beware that in contractyng of maryage they dyssemble not, nor set forthe any lye. Eyery man lykewyse must esteme the parson to whom he is hand-fasted none otherwyse than for his owne spouse, though as yet it be not done in the church ner in the streate. After the hand- fastynge and makyng of the contracte, the churchgoying and weddyng shuld not be difFerred to longe, lest tlie wickedde sowe liys ungracious sede in the meane season. Into this dysh halli the dyyeU ])ut his foote, and mengled it wythe many wycked uses and coustumes. For in some places ther is such a maner, wel worthy to be rebuked, that at the handefasting ther is made a greate feaste and superfluous bancket, and eyen the same night are the two handfasted personnes brought and layed together, yea certan wekes afore they go to the chyrch." The above note is entirely extracted from Brand. There cannot be a doubt but that, in Shakespeare's time, the ceremony of betrothment was usually supposed to confer the privilege of matrimonial union. Claudio obtained possession of Julietta on "a true contract;" and provided marriage was celebrated within a reasonable time afterwards, no criminality could 1)e alleged after the contract had been formally made. So, likewise, the Duke tells Mariana it was no sin to meet Angelo, for he was her " husband on a pre-contract." The story would be more properly analysed by representing Claudio's error as venial, and Angelo's strictness so much the inore severe, thus involving a greater antithesis in his faU. °° Save that we do the deminciation lack. One of Shakespeare's Latinisras. Denunciation is here used in the sense of publication or declaration. So in Bishop Hall's Cases of Conscience, cited in Todd's Johnson, mention is made of " this publick and reiterated denunciation of banns before matrimony." But Gracchus's soldiers, which were all, in a manner, the late armed slaves, had received from their general a peremptory denunciation that this day, or never, they must purchase their liberty, bringing every man, for price thereof, an enemy's head. — liuteiyJis History of the IJ orld. Only for propagation of a doicer. Propagation, literally, increase. AYe delayed to celebrate our marriage, merely because we desired to add to our means from a portion in the hands of friends, M hose favour we were first anxious to secure. Perhaps a better meaning is found in the other ordinary sense of propagate, to promote. Malone suggests proroga- tion, and Jackson, procuration, which last reading does not quite suit the context, NOTES TO THE FIRST ACT. 49 the marriage being postponed solely because the dower was not at the time pro- curable. Davenant alters the line to, — " Only for the assurance of a dowry." This singular mode of expression certainly demands some elucidation. The sense appears to be this : " We did not think it proper publickly to celebrate our marriage ; for this reason, that there might be no hindrance to the payment of Julietta's portion, which was then in the hands of her friends ; from whom, there- fore, we judged it expedient to conceal our love till we had gained their favour." Propagation being here used to signify payment, must have its root in the Italian viOY^L pagare. — Edinburgh Magazine for November, 1786. I sujjpose, says Steevens, the s])eaker means — for the sake of getting such a dower as her friends might hereafter bestow on her, when time had reconciled them to her clandestine marriage. The verb — to propagate, is, however, as obscurely employed by Chapman, in his version of the sixteenth book of Homer's Odyssey: to try if we, Alone, may propagate to victory Our bold encounters — . Again, in the fourth Iliad, by the same translator, 4to. 1598 : 1 doubt not but, this night. Even to the fleete \q> propagate the Greeks' unturned flight. — Steevens. This singular mode of expression has not been satisfactorily explained. The old sense of the word is ' promoting, inlarging, increasing, spreading.' It appears that Claudio would say: 'for the sake Manu.'irnpt Common -pi^cr /'ooJi, ot f:/u sevrn/ec,n//i (f /t/7in^. CocAiditutt/ some eJCOMifj/es of the u,nat^t/wnz/'d a/^rcUcon^ irv the tejr/^ wJuc/v were commo/i tU tJujf /'eriod . cnx- fm <5C S-O-nV-^ ^drv^^ . . • - •■ .^^2^^ -Jri^^i^^t-it^'?^ <9-a ^^h^^v-i^ 2^'^''^^ ^J^a^-cr^i-yx. -T-^^o-icd^^^ ^^Z^ ^^'<9 ^^^^cr-M-^^_^^r>-f~ <^^^^^^^^ <=t^-Z>-t<^ t-c7-/r2s4-n>^ Z^;^ J^4' ^C^^^ -f?c.>i^^a ^-^KT^f^^^ — ^ o-^t^i^'o-rT. 4^a^„^, ■yyt Cr>7^ J.NeiJiartlift,h&; 100. S^Martmslanc . NOTES TO THE EIRST ACT. 51 '^'■^ Thus foolishhj lost at a game of ticJc-tach. Tick-tack, touch and take. A similar playful use of this phrase occurs, as Steevens observes, in the interlude of Lusty Juventus, — What a hurly burly is here ! Smicke smacke, and all this gere ! You will to tiche tacke I fere, If you had time. and another instance may be seen in a catch in Lilly's Mother Bombie, ed. 1633, sig. Dd. 3,— 1. At laugh-and-he-downe if they play, 2. What asse against the sport can bray? 3. Such tick-tacke has held many a day. Ce mot est forme par Onomatopee, du bruit que font les dez quand on les pousse sur le tablier. M. de Saumaise sur I'histoire Auguste, pag. 468. Quod ad hunc vero tabulse lusum attinet, duodecim scriptorum, sciendum est omnino eundem esse, paucis mutatis, cum eo quem vulgo tric-tracum appellamus. On pronongoit anciennement tic tac ; les Allemans prononcent encore de la sorte. — Menage Etymol. in voc. I am perswaded he is one of my fellow horn-makers, and now he must go to the tavern to play a game at tick-tack; I dare not speak out. But it is no matter, for while she is playing one game, he can take two pipes of tobacco in the kitchen. — Hey for Horn Fair, 1674. Tick-tack itself is a game at the tables, a kind of variation of back-gammon. It is thus fully described in the Compleat Gamester, 8vo. Lond. 1721, pp. 53 — 55 : — " All your men must stand on the ace point, and from thence play forward ; but have a care of being too forward, or so, at leastwise, that doublets reach you not. Secure your sice and cinque- point, whatever you do, and break them not, unless it be when you have the advan- tage of going in, which is the great- est advantage you can have next to a hit ; for your adversary's eleventh point standing open, you have, it may be, the opportunity of going in with two of your men, and then you win a double game. A hit is but one, and that is, when you throw such a cast, that some one of your men will reach your adversary's unbound ; but sometimes, though it hits, it will not pass by reason of a stop in the way, and then it is nothing. Sometimes it is good going over into your adversary's tables ; but it is best for an After-Game. Playing close at home is the securest way ; playing at length is both rash and 52 NOTES TO THE FIRST ACT. unsafe ; and be careful of binding your men when you lie in danger of the enemy. Moreover, if you see you are in danger of losing a double game, give your adver- sary one ; if you can, it is better doing so, than losing two. Here note, if you fill up all the points of your second table with your own men, you win two, and that you may prevent your adversary from doing so (if you are in danger thereof) if you can, make a vacant point in his tables, and it is impossible for him to do it. This is the plain game of Tick-Tach, which is so called from Touch and Tal-e; for if you touch a man, you must play him, though to your loss ; and if you hit your adversary, and neglect the advantage, you are taken with a wlaj-not, which is the loss of one : likewise if you are in, and your cast is such that you may also go into your adversary's eleventh point, by two other men, and you see it not, either l)y carelesness or eager prosecution of a hit, which is apparent before your eyes, you lose two irrecoverably. Besides, it is a very great oversight, as your men may stand, not to take a point when you may do it. Now some play this game with toots, boveries and flyers : Toots is, when you fill up your table at home, and then there are required small throws ; for if you get over with a sice, you have no benefit of toots. Boveries is, when you have a man in the eleventh point of your own tables, and another in the same point of your adversary's directly answering. Flijcrs is, when you bring a man round tlie tables, before your adversary hath got over his first table, to the effecting of which there is required very high throwing on your side, and very low throwing on his." xVUusions to the game are exceedingly numerous, but seldom of much import- ance. See Ben Jonson's Every Man in his Humour, fol. ed., p. 30 ; Taylor's Motto, 12mo. Lond. 1G22, sig. D. 4; Apollo Shroving, 12mo. Lond. 1627, p. 49; Poems on State Affairs, ed. 1705, p. 53. Tick-tack is the subject of several ])ictures by Teniers, one of which, partially copied in the engraving in the pre- ceding page, represents the interior of a village hostelry, where a gallant cavalier and a shrewd old bourgeois are playing a species of backgammon. Two other figures of both the ranks described, form the spectators ; and in the back-ground is seen a clever military group, standing in conversation, and drinking by the fire. Hey wood, in his Philocothonista, 1635, makes mention of, " certaine gentle- men using much to our tavernes, some of them affect ng tables; their custome was still, when they met, to play at Irish or tictack." Irish Mas another game at the tables. " In this lande I did see an ape plaie at ticJce-tache, and after at Irishe on the tables, with one of that lande," Bullein's Dialogue, 1573. Both ticl'tacTce and the Irish game are sportes but made to spende ; I wote not, I, to what availe these trifling games do tende. Verses hi/ G. Tarherrile, pref. to the Boohe of Faleonrie. NoM", readers, your assistance I must crave, To play at noddy ; to turne up a knave. My foe at ticlc-tack playes exceeding well : Eor bearing, (sirs,) beleeve't, he bears the bell. Iluttons Follies Aiiatomie, 1619. The rip-rap-riffe-raffe, thwick thwack stout baboon Gripes in his downy clutch the spungy oake, And vouno- Andromeda at niolit rino-s noone. Whilst Asdrubal at tick-tack lost his cloake, Prometheus covering the umbranocs head, And Typhon tumbles through the solid ape. Taylor s Jforhes, fol. Lond. 1630. NOTES TO THE FIRST ACT. 53 You woud have me be an informer of unlawfull games, as tick-tach, whipper- ginny, and in-and-in. — AlVs Lost hj Ltist, 1633. In Hall's Horse VacivfB, 1646, p. 149, are the following observations on the game of tick-tack. Tick-tach sets a man's intentions on their guard. Errors in this and war can be but once amended." — Brand. Who askt the banes 'twixt these discolour'd mates ? A strange grottesco this, the Church and States (Most divine tick-tach) in a pje-bald crew. To serve as table-men of divers hew. Cleavelancfs London Diurnall, 1647. Mill. — Sir Walter! What a fright ami in? are you sm-e he did not see me? • — Townly. — No, nor me neither ; he was very busie playing at tick-tack with one of the drawers. — Sir Barnaby Whigg, 1681. Cun. I did rot throw one main in two hours ; I lost three sets at back-gammon, and a tout at tricktrack, all ready mony ; the rude fellows have frighted the roses from your cheeks. — Sedleys Bellamira, 1687. Now men at dice and cards do play Their mony and their time away. At Irish, Tick-tack, most at Thrice, At Passage, Hazard, Plays at Dice, At Trey-trip, Doublets, Draughts or Chess, Their Mony runs with carelesness, A Noddy, Novum, Mumchance, Mischance, Thus they their mony make to dance. Poor Bobin's Jlmanack, 1694. I hope, from this hasty caution I have given you, you'll have enough of these kind of ordinaries ; however, for your better satisfaction, we'll step thither again, and see what the rest of 'em are doing in the other parts of the house : Why, there are some playing at Back- Gammon, some at Trick Track, some at Picket, some at Cribidge, and, perhaps, at a by-table in a corner, four or five harmless fellows at Put. — The Country Gentleman 8 Vade Mecum, or Ms Companion for the Town, 8vo. Lond. 1699. It is worthy of remark that the game was formerly a fashionable one, and it is recorded of Catharine of Arragon, the first wife of Henry YIIL, that when she was young (MS. Bodl., in Bernard. Cat. 8590),— With stoole and needyl she was not to seeke, And other practiseingis for ladyes meete ; To pastyme at tables, ticktacke, or gleeke. In this game all your men are set on the ace-point, and so plaid forward to fill your tables, but with this care, that an unbound man be not hit in the way by one of the adversaries men : which if he doe not, but that you fill all the points of your second table with your owne men, you have won two, Much more might be said as to the craft of tlie play, which cannot be discovered but from observation. — Holme's Acad. Arm., MS. Addns. Believe not that the dribbling dart of love. Think not that a breast completely armed can be pierced by the dart of love, that comes fiutterins: without ioYCQ.—Johnso7i. "A dribber, in archery, was a term of contempt which perhaps cannot be satis- factorily explained. Ascham, in his Toxophilus, edit. 1589, p. 32, observes : " — if NOTES TO THE EIRST xVCT. lie give it over, and not use to slioote truly, &c., he sliall hecome of a fayre archer a Starke squirter and dribher." In the second sonnet of Sir Philip Sidney's Astro- phel and Stella, the same term is applied to the dart of Cupid : " Not at the first sight, nor yet with a dribled shot, Love gave the wound, &c." — Steevens. In the edition of 1591, it is printed drilling shot, the folio editions reading as above. Another instance of the technical term is found in the early MS. poem on the Stanley family — Arrowes were wont to have xij. inches of feather, Nowe but six, and flyes but in fayre wether ; Then arrowes were wont to pricke theyre enemies bloud. Now are they gladd to pricke xxij. roode ; Arrowes were wont to flee to your enemies payne. And nowe, God wotte, they flee for lucre and gaine ; Then not gybcrabes nor such crafty invention. Nor false shooting booty to make dyssention. They drewe to the haixl head, not there shutt lybbing, Shoote at long outmarkes ; now fall we to drybinge. The term in the text seems to be used in the metaphorical sense oiinsignificant, as in the following passage. " One besought a Avorshipfull gentleman to be a meanes for him to a Bishop to forgive him a certaine drihliug debt : The gentleman answered : His power is to binde not to loose," Copley's Wits, Eits, and Eancies, 4to. Lond. 1614. How I have ever lov'd the life removed. That is, a life of retirement, a life remote, or removed, from the bustle of the world. So, in the Prologue to Milton's Masque at Ludlow Castle, in the MS. copy in the Library of Trinity College, Cambridge : 1 was not sent to court your wonder AVitli distant worlds, and strange removed climes. — Steevens. And held in idle price to haunt assemblies. "When neither of these vertues are hi price. Then thou didst boldly shew tliem, ^v\mt a vice It was for subjects to provoke their King, By their rebellion their owne deaths to bring. Ta?/lo)-'s JForhes, fol. Lond. 1C30. jLnd icitless bravery Iceep. Bravery, fine dress. The particle and, omitted in the first folio, is supplied in the edition of 1632. " To furnish them against Christmas for feasting, gaming, and bravery," AVilson's History of Great Britain, 1653. In tlie comedy of East- ward Hoe by Jonson, Chapman, and Marston, the word is again met with : — " "Well said, sweete Syn, bring forth my bravery." In Holinshed's Chronicles, 1574, " To see the costlinesse, and the curiositie ; the excesse and the vanitie ; the pomp and the braverie.'" The term continued in use to a very recent period. In Poor Bobin's Almanack for 1740, mention is made of a gallant, who " wiU go to show his bravery in Hydc-Park." Eormer editors read keeps, but the use of the plural substantive with the sin- gular verb is so common in the early editions of Shakespeare, it could not be retained without off'ending the taste of modern readers. Keep, i.e. reside. AVe again have, "this habitation where thou keep'st.'' It is still in provincial use, and in America. Where do you keep now ? i.e. where is your place of business ? — Bartlett's Dictionary of Americanisms, p. 193. NOTES TO THE FIRST ACT. 55 '^'^ A man of stricture, and firm abstinence. Stricture is here licentiously used for strictness, the latter word being substitu- ted by Davenant. Warburton makes two words of it, strict iire, or, strict use or practice, but the metre clearly shows the first explanation is correct. The needful ttits and curbs to head-strong steeds. For steeds the old copy has iveeds, which clearly seems to be a misprint. The correction was first publicly made by Theobald, but it is also found, in an earlier hand, in Mr. Wheler's annotated copy of the third folio. The second folio reads, "/or headstrong," which seems to be merely a modernization. Which for these fourteen years ice have let sleep. The last word is printed sUji in the early folios, the same error also occurring in a passage in the Midsummer Night's Dream, as printed in ed. 1623, and in the other early editions. In the latter instance, no question can arise as to the word being a misprint. The emendation in the text is fully supported by the passages adduced by the commentators, and a similar image occurs in tlie Qildipus Tyrannus. Gildon reads sleep in his alteration of this play, 1700 ; and also nineteen for four- teen; and both emendations had been previously made by Davenant. " YoY fourteen I have made no scruple to replace nineteen. The reason will be obvious to him who recollects what Claudio has said in a foregoing scene. I have altered the odd phrase of " letting the laws slip ;" for how does it sort with the comparison that follows, of a lion in his cave that went not out to prey ? But let- ting the laws sleep, adds a particular propriety to the thing represented, and ac- cords exactly too with the simile. It is the metaphor too, that our author seems fond of using upon this occasion, in several other passages of this play : — ' The law hath not been dead, though it hatli slept; — 'Tis now awahe^ And, so again : — 'but this new governor awahes me all the enrolled penalties' — ' and for a name, now puts the drowsy and neglected act freshly on me.' " — Theobald. " The latter emendation may derive its support from a passage in Hamlet : " How stand 1 then. That have a father kill'd, a mother stain'd. Excitements of my reason and my blood, And let aU sleep? " If slip be the true reading, (which, however, I do not believe,) the sense may be, — wliich for these fourteen years we have suffered to pass unnoticed, unobserved ; for so the same phrase is used in Twelfth-Night : — ' Let him let this matter slip, and I'll give him my horse, grey Capulet.' Theobald altered /o?^r/m^ to nineteen, to make the Duke's account correspond with a speech of Claudio's in a former scene, but without necessity. Claudio would naturally represent the period during which the law had not been put in practice greater than it really was." — Malone. Theobald's correction is misplaced. If any correction is really necessary, it should have been made where Claudio, in a foregoing scene, says nineteen years. I am disposed to take the Duke's words. — Whalley. ™ That goes not out to prey. The passage in the Book of Job, iv. 11, probably suggested this image, — "the old lion perisheth for lack of prey." — Knight. For terror, not to use. The second folio reads error, instead of terror. In the previous line, the Dent annotated copy has, — " only do stick it." 56 NOTES TO THE EIEST ACT. Becomes more mocked than feard. Becomes is not in the old copy. It was added by Pope, the word being pro- bably suggested by Davenant's alteration. " Till it in time become more markt than fear'd," Law against Lovers, Works, 1073, p. 279. If the old reading be substantially correct, we may perhaps rather print, — " in time the rod's more mock'd than fear'd," provided the next reading, " our most just decrees," of the Perkins MS., be not also adopted. And liberty pluchs justice hy tlie nose. That is, th' Antipodes of England. The people there are contrary to us : As thus ; — here. Heaven be prais'd !, the magistrates governe the people : there the people rule the magistrates. — Bromes Antijjodes, 1G40. The hahy heats the nurse. " This allusion," says Steevens, " was borrowed from an ancient print entitled the World turn'd Upside Down, where an infant is thus employed." Such a print, of comparatively modern date, is well known ; but is there one of the kind, as early as the time of Shakespeare ? There is an old chap-book, and also a tract published in the seventeenth century, each bearing the same title. Mr. Eairholt suggests to me that Brome may have been thinking of the passage in the text when he writes, in his whimsical play of the Antipodes, 1640, speaking of the inhabitants of the lower world : — " But there the women overrule the men : If some men faile here in their power, some women slip their holds there : As parents here, and masters, command, there they obey the childe and servant." We hid this he done, when evil deeds, Sfc. Qui non proliibet cum proliibere potest, jubet. "'^ JFho may, in the amhush of my name, strike home. "After rising up, the executioner knelt down, and desired him to forgive him : which, with an embrace, he protested he did, but entreated him not to strike till he gave a token, by lifting up his hand ; and then fear not, said he, but strike home." —Letter dated 1G18. Xever in the fght, to do me slander. Me is printed in in the first folio, these two words being frequently misprinted in early English works. " Do me no slander, Douglas," Henry IV. If the first folio can possibly be right, the meaning may be this, — and yet my nature never in the contest, to work in slander, to carry out the decree with the certainty of being- censured on all sides. That jight is the correct word seems evident from the con- text, in apposition to amhush, and strike home; but several critics have suggested sight, and in the next line Hanmer reads, " to do it slander," that is, so that any one may be able to fix the slander upon it. Dr. Johnson suggests sight, and. So doing slandered, and yet my nature never suffer slander, by doing any open acts of severity. The Perkins MS. has, — "And yet my nature never in the sight, to draio on slander ;" and the Dent annotated copy has the same reading, with the excep- tion that in is retained as in the original. TIoic I may formally in person hear me. The last word is omitted in the first edition. Pope reads, — " my person bear." Perhaps the word which I have inserted in the text, had dropped out while tlie sheet was at press. A similar phrase occurs in the Tempest : — " some good in- struction give, how I may hear me liere." Sir W. Davenant reads, in his alteration of the play : — " I may in person a true fryar seem." The sense of the passages as NOTES TO THE FIRST ACT. 57 Henley observes, is — " How I may demean myself, so as to support the character I have assumed." — Steevens. ''^ More reasons for this action. " Moe reasons," ed. 1623, and no doubt rightly ; but the older word is too discordant to modern ears to be retained. At our more leisure shall I render you. More is here used for greater^ as it frequently is by the writers of Shakespeare's time. Thus Spenser, Shep. Cal. June, ver. 29, — " Doe make them musick for their more delight." though she's a treasure Might be dispos'd of to a more advantage Of Carthage strength. — Nahhes' Hannibal and Scipio, 1637. Stands at a guard toith envy. That is, stands on his defence against the assaults of envy. Dr. Johnson says, " stands on terms of defiance." MaJce me not your story. In other words, make or invent not your story, do not deceive me. Lucio answers her, — What I tell you is true ; I would not deceive you. The redundant pronoun is of constant occurrence. Davenant reads scorn instead of story (omitting the two first words of the next speech), and Malone, — " Sir, mock me not — your story." Taylor, the Water-Poet, uses an idiom similar to that in the text, when he says of Coriat, — ^" Thou art the theme I write my story at." Perhaps only, " Do not divert yourself with me, as you would with a story do not make me the subject of your drama. Benedick talks of becoming — the argument of his own scorn. So, in A Midsummer Night's Dream : — " You would not maTce me such an arguments After all, the irregular phrase {ine) that, perhaps, obscures this passage, occurs frequently in our author, and particularly in the next scene, where Escalus says : " Come me to what was done to her." — Make me not your story, may therefore signify — ^" invent not your story on purpose to deceive me." " It is true," in Lucio's reply, means — " What I have already told you is true." — Steevens. I have no doubt that we ought to read, — " Sir, moch me not : — your story." So, in Macbeth : — " Thou com'st to use thy tongue : — thy story quickly," In King Lear, we have — " Pray, do not mocli me." I beseech you, sir, says Isabel, do not play upon my fears ; reserve this idle talk for some other occasion ; — proceed at once to your tale. Lucio's subsequent words, — " Tis true," — i. e. you are right ;" I thank you for remembering me : — which, as the text has been hitherto printed, had no meaning, are then pertinent and clear. Pope was so sensible of the im- possibility of reconciling them to what preceded in the old copy, that he fairly omitted them. What Isabella says afterwards fully supports this emendation ; — " You do blaspheme the good, in rnocMug me." — Malone. The phrase, to mahe a lie, meaning, to tell a lie, was of constant occurrence. It occurs in Bevelations, xxi. 27, and xxii. 15. So, likewise, Latimer, in his ser- mon on the epistle read in the church the twenty-first Sunday after Trinity : " Ye parentes, when ye heare one of your children to mahe a lye, take him up and give him three or four good stripes, and tell him that it is naught : and when he maheth an other lye, give him sLx or eight stripes, and I am sure, when you serve him so, he wiU leave it : for it is a common saying : Vexatis dat intellectum, correction geveth understandyng. But we see now a dayes that parentes rejoyce when their ni. 8 . 58 NOTES TO THE FIEST ACT. children can make a p'cty lye: they say he will be a prety witty felow, he can make a lyrety lye." With ?naids to seem the lapicing, and to jest. The lapwing was considered emblematic of deceit. " The false lapwing, alle full of trechirie," Chaucer, ed. Urr)% p. 416. "And lapwinges that wel conith lie," ibid. p. 188. The farther from her nest, the louder her ])laintive cry. " Far from her nest the lapwing cries away," Comedy of Errors. The next line in the latter comedy is decisive as to the meaning of, " tongue far from heart." The intention of Lucio is simply this, — though it is my customary evil habit to be deceitfid to maidens, to jest with them, my language being farthest from expressing my real feelings ; though I sport with all other virgins so, I hold you, &c ; you are one of the few exceptions to my ordinary practice. Feicness and truth. That is, in few words and in truth. Your brother and his lover have emhrac'd. Lover was formerly applied as a term to a woman, as well as to a man, Tlius, as CapeU observes, one of his poems, containing the lamentation of a deserted maiden, is entitled, "A Lover s Com2)laint." So, in Tarlton's Newes out of Pur- gatory, ap. Malone, " — he spide the fetch, and perceived that aU this while this was his lover s husband, to whom he had revealed these escapes." " He chanced to put his twining arme about his lover," Pasquil's Night Cap, 1612. The term was applied to the female sex, not only in Shakespeare's time, but even to a very late period. Lady Wortley jMontague, in a letter to her husband, speaking of a young girl who forbade the banns of marriage at Huntingdon, calls her lover. See her Works, vol. i. p. 238. — Loiice. And thou were the curtiest knight that ever bare shield ; and thou were the truest friend to thy lover that ever bestrod horse ; and thou were the truest lover of a sinful man that ever loved woman : and thou were the kindest man that ever stroke with sword. — History of Prince Arthur, 1634. ^® As hlossoming time. Mason's comment on this is ver}- clear, but in deference to the names of the critics who have suggested difficulties in the original text, the following notes are here reprinted. As the sentence now stands, it is apparently ungrammatical. I read — "At blossoming time," that is. As they that feed grow full, so her womb now at hlos- soming time, at that time through which the seed time proceeds to the harvest, her womb shows what has been doing. Lucio ludicrously calls pregnancy hlossoming time, the time when fruit is promised, though not yet ripe. — Johnson. Instead of that, we may read — doth; and, instead of brings, bring. Foizon is plenty. So, in the Tempest : " nature should bring forth, of its own kind, all foizon.'" Teeming foizon is abundant produce. — Steevens. This sentence, as Dr. Johnson has observed, is apparently ungrammatical. I suspect two half lines have been lost. Perhaps, however, an imperfect sentence was intended, of which there are many instances in these plays : — or, as might have been used in the sense of like. Tilth is tillage. So, in our author's third Sonnet : For where is she so fair, whose unear'd womb Disdains the tillage of thy husbandry ? — Malone. This passage seems to me to require no amendment ; and the meaning of it is this : "As blossoming time proves the good tillage of the farmer, so the fertility of NOTES TO THE EIRST ACT. 59 her womb expresses Claudio's full tilth and husbandry." Bj blossoming time is meant, the time when the ears of corn are formed. — M. Mason. That from the seedness the hare fallow brings. Seedness, seed-time, is a word of unusual occurrence. It is, however, still in use in some parts of Yorkshire, and, in Herefordshire, the time of sowing the land is called seedny. Now in the middle space of the bow (which, as I said before, carieth a large round bent, and which is fifteene dales journey of a nymble and light appointed footman) are seated the Alani of Europe, and the Costobocfe, and infinit nations of the Scythians, which in length reach out as farre as the lands that stretch forth without an end : of which some few feed upon corne and fruits of the earth, all the rest wandering in scattering wise over the vast wildernesse (which never felt the plough, nor know what seednesse is, but lye desert, and subject to many frosts) feed after the filthy manner of wild beasts. — The Roman Historie of Ammianus Marcellinus, tr. hy P. Holland, 1609. Expresseth his f ull tilth and husbandry. Tilth, tillage, cultivation. " Tilthe and tillage, idem; Tylthe of lande called sommer fallow, vernactum," Huloet's Abcedarium, 1553. " Land full of tilth, and in hearty good plight," Tusser. " Tilt, or tilth, in husbandry, as land kept in tilt," Kennett, MS. Lansd. 1033. Bore many gentlemen in hand. To bear in hand, that is, to make to believe, to persuade. " I beare in hande, I threp upon a man that he hath done a dede, or make hym byleve so, Je fais accroyre," Palsgrave, 1530. " He that wyll kyll his neyghbours dogge beareth folkes in hande he is madde," ibid. Dr. Johnson proposes to read, " ivith hope of action," but see p. 35. With full line of his authority. With fuU extent ; with the whole length. — Br. Johnson. But doth rebate and blunt his natural edge. Rebate, to blunt metal, to make blunt or obtuse. Erom the Erench rebatre. " Their swords were bent and rebated," Ammianus Marcellinus, tr. Holland, 1609. " No forceable intent but by a face so faire is soone rebated," Heywood's Troia Britanica, 1009. " Might our love rebate this sharpe edge of your bitter wrath," Weakest Goeth to the Wall, 1618. " They shaU fight at barryers with rebated swords," History of Palmerin, n. d. " The continual poring whereon doth serve but to dull and rebate their apprehensions," History of Erancion, 1655. "A formall and premeditated duell with a wooden dagger and rebated rapier," Osborne's Advice to a Son, 1658. " Our laws of Sicilie are so well rebated with clemencie and mercie," Brome's Queen and Concubine, 1659. To give fear to use. Dr. Johnson explains this, — to intimidate use, that is, practices long counte- nanced by custom. Hath pic¥d out an act. In a copy of the Gesta Romanorum in MS. Harl. 2270, a volume of the fif- teenth century written on paper, there is a tale the story of which is connected with a law of the Emperor Lampadius that whoever violated a virgin, without making atonement to her father within a certain time, should suffer death. Shakespeare intrenches somewhat on probability in representing Claudio as sentenced to death 60 NOTES TO THE FIRST ACT. for a mere case of cohabitation before marriage, and after contract. In the old English law, 13 Edw. I., if a man ravish a woman, married, maid, or other, where she did not consent either before or after, he shall have judgment of life and mem- ber ; and if a man ravish a woman, married or other, albeit she consent after, yet he, being attainted thereof, shall have like judgment as before : Wingate's Abridge- ment, ed. 1666, p. 458. ^ Unless you have the grace. That is, the acceptableness, the power of gaining favour. So, when she makes her suit, the. Provost says, — Heaven give thee moving graces ! — Br. Johnson. ^° Has censured him. Censure, to judge, is the ordinary use of the word by Shakespeare and his con- temporaries. Has, for he has, the personal pronoun being frequently omitted. Malone suggests that we may read h'as, the contracted form of he has, which occurs in several other plays. The Dent annotated copy reads, — " has censure in him." All their petitions are as freely theirs. "AU their requests are as freely granted to them, are granted in as full and beneficial a manner, as they themselves could wish," Malone. The second folio reads truly for freely. The verb owe, to possess, is of exceedingly common occurrence. ^' But to give the Mother. The Mother is, of course, the superior of the nunnery. SCENE l.—A Hall in Angelo's House. Etiter Angelo, Escalus, a Justice, Officers, and other Attendants, the Provost^ at the back 0/ the Stage. Any. We must not make a scarecrow of the law. Setting it up to fear the birds of prey, And let it keep one shape, till custom make it Their perch, and not their terror. Escal. : Ay, but yet Let us be keen, and rather cut a little. Than fall, and bruise to death. ^ Alas! this gentleman, Whom I would save, had a most noble father: Let but your honour know, (Whom I believe to be most straight in virtue,) That, in the working of your own affections, Had time coher'd with place, or place with wishing. Or that the resolute acting of your blood^ Could have attain'd th' effect of your own purpose, Whether you had not sometime in your life Err'd in this point which now you censure him,* And pull'd the law upon you. Any. 'T is one thing to be tempted, Escalus, — Another thing to fall. I not deny. The jury, passing on the prisoner's life. May, in the sworn twelve,^ have a tliief or two 62 MEASUEE EOE MEASURE. [act II. sc. I. (luiltier than him they try. \Miat 's open made To justice, that justice seizes. AYhat know the laws, That thieves do pass on thieves?*^ 'T is very pregnant,^ The jewel that we find, we stoop and take it, Because we see it; hut what we do not see, We tread upon, and never think of it. You may not so extenuate his offence, For I have had such faults f but rather tell me. When I, that censure him, do so offend. Let mine own judgment pattern out my deatli, And nothing come in partial. Sir, he nmst die. Escal. Be it as your wisdom will. Any. Where is the provost? Prov. Here, if it like your honour. An(j. See that Claudio Be executed by nine to-morrow morning: Bring him his confessor, let him be prepar'd ; For that's the utmost of his pilgrimage. [Exit Provost. Escal. Well, heaven forgive him! and forgive us all; Some rise by sin, and some by virtue fall:° Some run from brakes of vice,^° and answer none: And some condemned for a fault alone. Enter Elbow, Froth, Clown, Officers, S^c. Elh. Come, bring them away: if these be good people in a commonweal, that do nothing but use their abuses in common houses, I know no law; bring them away. An (J. How now, sir! What 's your name? and what "s the matter? Elh. If it please your honour, I am the poor duke's constable, and my name is Elbow; I do lean upon justice, sir, and do bring in here before your good honour two notorious benefactors. Ang. Benefactors? Well; what benefactors are they? are they not malefactors? Elh. If it please your honour, I know not well what they are: but precise villains they are, that I am sure of; and void of all profanation in the world, that good Christians ought to have. Escal. This comes off well;" here's a wise officer. Ang. Go to : What quality are they of? Elbow is your name? Why dost thou not speak. Elbow? Clo. He cannot, sir; he "s out at elbow.^^ ACT II. SC. I.] MEASURE FOE MEASURE. 63 Ang. What are you, sir? Elb. He, sir? a tapster, sir; parcel-bawd;^^ one that serves a bad woman; whose house, sir, was, as they say, pluck'd down in the suburbs; and now she professes a hot-house, ^Nvhich, I think, is a very ill-house too. Escal. How know you that? Elh. My wife, sir, whom I detest^' before heaven and your honour, — Escal. How! thy wife? Elh. Ay, sir; whom, I thank heaven, is an honest woman, — Escal. Dost thou detest her therefore? Elh. I say, sir, I will detest myself also, as well as she, that this liouse, if it be not a bawd's house, it is pity of her life, for it is a naughty house. Escal. How dost thou know that, constable? Elb. Marry, sir, by my wife; who, if she had been a woman cardinally given, might have been accus'd in fornication, adultery, and all uncleanliness there. Escal. By the woman's means? Elh. Ay, sir, by mistress Overdone's means but as she spit in his face, so she defied him. Clo. Sir, if it please your honour, this is not so. Elb. Prove it before these varlets here, thou honourable man; prove it. Escal. Do you hear how he misplaces? [To Angelo. Clo. Sir, she came in great with child; and longing (saving your honour's reverence) for stew'd prunes ;^^ sir, we had but two in the house, which at that very distant time^^ stood, as it were, in a fruit-dish, a dish of some three-pence ;^° your honours have seen such dishes; they are not China dishes,'^ but very good dishes. Escal. Go to, go to; no matter for the dish, sir. Clo. No, indeed, sir, not of a pin; you are therein in the right : but, to the point: as I say, this mistress Elbow, being, as I say, with child, and being great-bellied, and longing, as I said, for prunes; and having but two in the dish, as I said, master Froth here, this very man, having eaten the rest, as I said, and, as I say, paying for them very honestly; — for, as you know, master Froth, I could not give you three-pence again. Froth. No, indeed. Clo. Very well: you being then, if you be remember'd, crack- ing the stones of the 'foresaid prunes. 64 MEASUEE FOE MEASUEE. [act u. sc. I. Froth. Ay, so I did, indeed. Clo. Why, very well: I telling you then, if you be remember'd, that such a one, and such a one, were past cure of the thing you wot of, unless they kept very good diet, as I told you. Froth. All this is true. Clo. AA^iy, very well then. Escal. Come, you are a tedious fool: to the purpose. — What was done to Elbow's wife, that he hath cause to con) plain of? Come me to what was done to her. Clo. Sir, your honour cannot come to that yet. Escal. No, sir, nor I mean it not. Clo. Sir, but you shall come to it, by your honour's leave: and, I beseech you, look into master Froth here, sir; a man of fourscore pound a-year; whose father died at Hallowmas: — Was 't not at Hallowmas, master Froth? Froth. All-liallond eve. Clo. Why, very well; I hope here be truths. He, sir, sitting, as I say, in a lower chair," sir; — 't was in the Bunch of Grapes,^^ where, indeed, you have a delight to sit: Have you not? Froth. I have so; because it is an open room,"* and good for winter. Clo. Why, very well then; — I hope here be truths. Anrj. This will last out a night in Russia, When nights are longest there: Fll take my leave, And leave you to the hearing of the cause; Hoping you '11 find good cause to whip them all. Escal. I think no less: Good morrow to your lordship. [Exit Angelo. Now, sir, come on: What was done to Elbow's wife, once more. Clo. Once, sir? there was nothing done to her once. Ell). I beseech you, sir, ask him what this man did to my wife. Clo. I beseech your honour, ask me. Escal. AYell, sir: What did this gentleman to her? Clo. I beseech you, sir, look in this gentleman's face : — Good master Froth, look upon his honour; 'tis for a good purpose: Doth vour honour mark his face? Escal. Ay, sir, very well. Clo. Nay, I beseech you, mark it well. Escal. Well, I do so. Clo. Doth your honour see any harm in his face? Escal. Whv, no. ACT II. SC. I.] MEASURE EOE MEASURE. 65 Clo. I '11 be suppos'd upon a book/' his face is the worst thing about him. Good, then; if his face be the worst thing about him, how could master Froth do the constable's wife any harm? I would know that of your honour. Escal. He 's in the right: Constable, what say you to it? Elb. First, an 't like you, the house is a respected house; next, this is a respected fellow; and his mistress is a respected woman. Clo. By this liand, sir, his wife is a more respected person than any of us all. Elh. Varlet, thou liest; thou liest, wicked varlet: the time is yet to come that she was ever respected with man, woman, or child. Clo. Sir, she was respected with him before he married with her. Escal. Which is the wiser here. Justice or Iniquity?"" — Is this true? Elh. O thou caitiff! O thou varlet! O thou wicked Hannibal!'^ I respected with her, before I was married to her! If ever I was respected with her, or she with me, let not your worship think me the poor duke's officer: — Prove this, thou wicked Hannibal, or I '11 have mine action of battery on thee. Escal. If he took you a box o' th' ear, you might have your action of slander too. Elh. Marry, I thank your good worship for it: What is 't your worship's pleasure I shall do with this wicked caitiff? Escal. Truly, officer, because he hath some offences in him that thou would st discover if thou couldst, let him continue in his courses till thou know'st what they are. Elh. Marry, I thank your worship for it: — Thou seest, thou w icked varlet now, what's come upon thee ; thou art to continue now, thou varlet! thou art to continue. Escal. Where were you born, friend? [To Froth. Froth. Here in Vienna, sir. Escal. Are you of fourscore pounds a-year? Froth. Yes, an 't please you, sir. Escal. So. — What trade are you of, sir? [To the Cloavn. Clo. A tapster; a poor widow's tapster. Escal. Your mistress's name? Clo. Mistress Overdone."^ Escal. Hath she had any more than one husband? Clo. Nine, sir; Overdone by the last. Escal. Nine! — Come hither to me, master Froth. Master m. 9 CG MEASURE EOR MEASURE. [act II. sc. I. Froth, I would not have you acquainted ith tapsters ; they will draw you, master Froth, and you will hano; thern.^^ Get you gone, and let me hear no more of you. Froth. I thank your Avorship: For mine own part, I neyer come into any room in a taphouse, hut I am drawn in. Escal. Well ; no more of it, master Froth : farewell. [EjcH Froth.] — Come you hither to me, master Tapster ; what's your name, master Tapster? Clo. Poinpey. Escal. What else? Clo. Bum, sir. Escal. 'Troth, and your hum is the greatest thing- ahout you;^^ so that, in the heastliest sense, you are Pompey the Great. Pompey, you are partly a hawd, Pompey, howsoeyer you colour it in heing a tapster. Are you not? Come, tell me true; it shall he the hetter for you. Clo. Truly, sir, I am a poor fellow that would liye. Escal. How would you liye, Pompey? hy being a bawd? What do you think of the trade, Pompey? is it a lawful trade ? Clo. If the law would allow it, sir. Escal. But the law will not allow it, Pompey: nor it shall not be allowed in Vienna. Clo. Does your worship mean to geld and spay all the youth of the city? Escal. No, Pompey. Clo. Truly, sir, in my poor opinion, they will to 't then. If your worship will take order for the drabs and the knayes, you need not to fear the bawds. Escal. There are pretty orders beginning, I can tell you. It is but heading and hanging. Clo. If you head and hano- all that offend that way but for ten year together, you 'U be glad to giye out a commission for more heads. If this law hold in Vienna ten year, I '11 rent the fairest house in it after three-pence a bay.^^ If you liye to see this come to pass, say Pompey told you so. Escal. Thank you, good Pompey: and, in requital of your prophecy, hark you, — I adyise you, let me not find you before me again upon any complaint whatsoeyer, no, not for dwelling where you do; if I do, Pompey, I shall beat you to your tent, and proye a shrewd Caesar to you ; in plain dealing, Pom2)ey, I shall haye you whipp'd : so for this time, Pompey, fare you well. ACT ir. sc. II.] MEASURE EOE MEASURE. 67 Clo. I thank your Avorship for your good counsel ; but I shall follow it, as the flesh and fortune shall better determine. \A^iip me? No, no; let Carman whip his jade ; The valiant heart 's not whipp'd out of his trade. [Exit Escal. Come hither to me, master Elbow; come hither, mas- ter Constable. How long have you been in this place of con- stable? Elh. Seven year and a half, sir. Escal. I thought, by your readiness^^ in the office, you had continued in it some time: You say, seven years together t Elh. And a half, sir. Escal. Alas! it hath been great pains to you! They do you wrong to put you so oft upon 't: Are there not men in your ward sufficient to serve it ? Elh. 'Faith, sir, few of any wit in such matters: as they are chosen, they are glad to choose me for them; I do it for some piece of money, and go through with all. Escal. Look you bring me in the names of some six or seven, the most sufficient of your parish. Elh. To your worship's house, sir? Escal. To my house: Fare you well. — [Exit Elbow. What's o'clock, think you? Just. Eleven, sir. Escal. I ])ray you home to dinner with me.^" Just. I humbly thank you. Escal. It grieves me for the death of Claudio ; But there 's no remedy. Just. Lord Angelo is severe. Escal. It is but needful : Mercy is not itself, that oft looks so ; Pardon is still the nurse of second woe •^'^ But yet, — Poor Claudio! — ^There is no remedy. Come, sir. [Exeunt. SCENE II. — Another Room in the same. Enter Proyost and a Servant. Serv. He 's hearing of a cause; he will come straight. I '11 tell him of you. Prov. Pray you do. [Exit Servant.] I '11 know His pleasure ; may be, he will relent. Alas, 68 MEASURE EOE MEASURE. [act ii. sc. ii. He hath but as offended in a dream ! All sects, all ages, smack of this vice ; and he To die for 't — Enter Angelo. An(/. Now, what 's the matter, provost? Prov, Is it your will Claudio shall die to-morrow? Ang. Did not I tell thee, yea? hadst thou not order? Why dost thou ask ag-ain? Prov. Lest I might be too rash: Under your good correction, I have seen, When, after execution, judgment hath Repented o'er his doom. Ang. Go to; let that be mine: Do you your office, or give up your place, And you shall well be spar'd. Prov. I crave your honour's pardon. — What shall be done, sir, with the groaning Juliet ? She 's very near her hour. Ang. Disj^ose of her To some more fitter place; and that with speed. Re-enter Servant. Serv. Here is the sister of the man condemn'd. Desires access to you. Ang. Hath he a sister? Prov. Ay, my good lord; a very virtuous maid. And to be shortly of a sisterhood, If not already. Ang. Well, let her be admitted. \_Fa:it Servant. See you, the fornicatress be remov'd ; Let her have needful, but not lavish, means; There shall be order for 't. Enter Lucio and Isabella. Pror. 'Save your honourl^^ [^Offering to retire. Ang. Stay a little while.^" — [To Isab.] You are welcome: What 's your will? Isab. I am a woeful suitor to your honour. Please but your honour hear me. Ang. Well ; what 's your suit? Isab. There is a vice that most I do abhor. And most desire should meet the blow of justice ; ACT II. SC. II.] MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 69 For which I would not plead, but that I must; For which I must not plead, but that I am At war 'twixt SvilF and 'will not.'^° Amj. Well; the matter? Isah. I have a brother is condemn'd to die: I do beseech you, let it be his fault, And not my brother Frov. Heaven give thee moving graces! Ang. Condemn the fault, and not the actor of it? Why, every fault 's condemn'd, ere it be done: Mine were the very cipher of a function. To fine the faults,*^ whose fine stands in record. And let go by the actor. Isab, O just but severe law! I had a brother then. — Heaven keep your honour! [Betiring. Lucio. [To Isab.] Give 't not o'er so: to liim again, entreat him; Kneel down before him, hang upon his gown; You are too cold: if you should need a pin, You could not with more tame a tongue desire it: To him, I say. Isah. Must he needs die? Ang. Maiden, no remedy. Isab. Yes; I do think that you might pardon him, And neither heaven, nor man, grieve at the mercy. Ang. I will not do 't. Isab. But can you, if you would? Ang. Look, what I will not, that I cannot do.*^ Isab. But might you do 't, and do the world no wrong, If so your heart were touch'd with that remorse As mine is to him? Ang. He 's sentenced ; 't is too late. Lucio. You are too cold. [To Isabella. Isab. Too late? why, no; 1, that do speak a word. May call it back again. *^ Well, believe this,^ No ceremony that to great ones 'longs. Not the king's crown, nor the deputed sword. The marshal's truncheon, nor the judge's robe, Becomes them with one half so good a grace As mercy does. If he had been as you. And you as he, you would have slipp'd like him ; But he, like you, would not have been so stern. 70 MEASURE EOK MEASURE. [act II. sc. IT. Anfj. Pray you, begone. Jsab. I would to lieaycn I had your potency, And you were Isabel! should it then be thus? No; I would tell what 't were to be a judge. And what a prisoner. Lncio. Ay, touch him; there 's the vein. [^/iside. Ang. Your brother is a forfeit of the la^y, And you but waste your words. hub. Alas! alas! AYliy, all the souls that were, were forfeit once;*' And He, that might the vantage best have took. Found out the remedy. How would you be, If He, which is the top of judgment,^'^ should But judge you as you are?*' O, think on that; And mercy then will breathe within your lips. Like man new made.*^ Arc/. Be you content, fair maid; It is the law, not I, condemns your brother: Were he my kinsman, brother, or my son. It should be thus with him : — he must die to-morrow . Isah. To-morrow? O, that 's sudden! Spare him, spare him: He 's not prepar'd for death! Even for our kitchens We kill the fowl of season;*" shall we serve heaven With less respect than we do minister To our gross selves? Good, good my lord, bethink you: Who is it that hath died for this offence? There 's many have committed it. Liicio. Ay, well said. Aug. The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept :^' Those many had not dar'd to do that evil. If the first that did th' edict infringe,^^ H ad answer'd for his deed : now 't is awake ; Takes note of what is done; and, like a prophet, Looks in a glass,^' that shows what future evils (Either now, or by remissness new conceiv'd. And so in progress to be hatch'd and born) Arc now to have no successive degrees. But where they live, to end.'^ Isah. Yet show some pity. Aitg. I show it most of all, when I show justice; For then I pity those I do not know,'* Which a dismiss'd offence would after gall; ACT II. SC. II.] MEASURE EOE MEASURE. 71 And do him right, that, answering one foul wrong, Lives not to act another. Be satisfied; Your hrother dies to-morrow; he content. Isah. So you must be the first that gives this sentence, And he that suffers. O, it is excellent To have a giant's strength; hut it is tyrannous To use it like a giant. Lucio. That 's well said. Isah. Could great men thunder As Jove himself does,^'' Jove would ne'er be quiet, For every pelting, petty officer," Would use his heaven for thunder: nothing but thunder. Merciful heaven ! Thou rather, with thy sharp and sulphurous bolt, Splitt'st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak,^^ Than the soft myrtle: But man, proud man,^^ Dress'd in a little brief authority. Most ignorant of what he 's most assur'd, His glassy essence,*"^ — ^like an angry ape, Plays such fantastic tricks before high heaven, As make the angels weep:" who, with our spleens, Would all themselves laugh mortal."^ Lucio. O, to him, to him, wench; he will relent ; He 's coming,"^ I perceive 't. Prov. Pray heaven, she win him! Isah. We cannot weigh our brother with ourself:^* Great men may jest with saints i'^ 't is wit in them ; But, in the less, foul profanation. Lucio. Thou 'rt in the right, girl; more o' that. Isah. That in the captain 's but a choleric word, Which in the soldier is flat blasphemy. Lucio. Art avis'd o' that? more on't. Ancj. Why do you put these sayings upon me? Isah. Because authority, though it err like others. Hath yet a kind of medicine in itself. That skins the vice o' the top. Go to your bosom; Knock there; and ask your heart, what it doth know That 's like my brother's fault: if it confess A natural guiltiness, such as is his. Let it not sound a thought upon your tongue Against my brother's life. Ang. [Aside.'] She speaks, and 't is 72 MEASITEE rOE MEASUEE. [act II. sc. II. Such sense, that my sense breeds with it.*'*' — Fare you welh Isah. Gentle my lord, turn haek. Ang. I will bethink me: — Come again to-morrow. Isah. Hark, how 1 *U bribe you': Good my lord, turn back. Ang. How ! bribe me? Isah. Ay, with such gifts that heaven shall share with you. Lucio. You had marr'd all else. Isah. Not with fond shekels of the tested gold," Or stones, whose rates are either rich, or poor. As fancy values them; but with true prayers. That shall be up at heaven, and enter there. Ere sunrise: prayers from preserved souls,^^ From fasting maids, w hose minds are dedicate To nothing temporal. Ang. Well: come to me to-morrow. Lucio. Goto: 't is well ; away. \ Aside to Isabel.. Isah. Heaven keep your honour safe ! Ang. Amen: For I am that way going to temptation, [Aside. \Yhere prayers cross. ''^ Isah. At what hour to-morrow Shall I attend your lordship? Ang. At any time Tore noon. Isah. 'Save your honour! [Exeunt Lucio, Isab., and Prov. Ang. From thee ; even from thy virtue ! — ^Yhat 's this? what 's this? Is this her fault, or mine? The tempter, or the tempted, who sins most? Ha! Not she; nor doth she tempt; but it is I, That, lying by the violet in the sun. Do, as the carrion does, not as the flower, '° Corrupt with virtuous season. Can it be. That modesty may more betray our sense'^ Than woman's lightness? Having waste ground enough, Shall we desire to raze the sanctuary. And pitch our evils there?" O, fie, fie, fie! \Miat dost thou, or what art thou, Angelo? Dost tliou desire her foully, for those things That make her good ? O, let her brother live : Thieves for their robbery have authority, When judges steal themselves. What? do I love her. That I desire to hear her speak again. ACT II. SC. III.] MEASUEE FOE MEASUEE. 73 And feast upon her eyes? What is 't I dream on? O cunning enemy that, to catch a saint, With saints dost bait thy hook ! Most dangerous Is that temptation, that doth goad us on To sin in loving virtue : never could the strumpet, With all her double vigour, art, and nature. Once stir my temper; but this virtuous maid Subdues me quite: — Ever, till now. When men were fond, I smil'd and wonder'd how.^* [Exit. SCENE III. — A Room in a Prison. Enter Duke, habited like a Friar, and Provost. Duke. Hail to you, provost ! so I think you are. Prov. I am the provost: What 's your will, good friar? Duke. Bound by my charity, and my bless'd order, I come to visit the afflicted spirits" Here in the prison : do me the common right To let me see them, and to make me know The nature of their crimes, that I may minister To them accordingly. Prov. I would do more than that, if more were needful. Enter Juliet. Look, here comes one; a gentlewoman of mine, Who, falling in the flames of her own youth,^^ Hath blister'd her report: She is with child; And he that got it, sentenc'd : a young man More fit to do another such offence, Than die for this. Duke. When must he die? Prov, As I do think, to-morrow. — I have provided for you:^^ stay a while, [To Juliet. And you shall be conducted. Duke. Repent you, fair one, of the sin you carry? Juliet. I do ; and bear the shame most patiently. Duke. I '11 teach you how you shall arraign your conscience, And try your penitence, if it be sound. Or hollowly put on. Juliet. I '11 gladly learn. III. 10 74 MEASURE EOR MEASURE. [act ii. sc. iv. Duke. Love you the man that wrong'd you? Juliet. Yes, as I love the woman that wrong'd him. Duke. So then, it seems, your most ofFenceful act Was nmtually committed? Juliet. Mutually. Duke. Then was your sin of heavier kind than his. Juliet. I do confess it, and repent it, father. Duke. 'T is meet so, daughter : hut lest you do repent,^^ As that the sin hath hrought you to this shame, — Which sorrow is always toward ourselves, not heaven; Showing we would not spare Heaven,'^ as we love it. But as we stand in fear: Juliet. I do repent me, as it is an evil; And take the shame with joy. Duke. There rest.'° Your partner, as I hear, must die to-morrow, And I am going with instruction to him. — Grace go with you ! Benedicite [Exit. Juliet. ]Must die to-morrow! O, injurious love/^ That respites me a life, whose very comfort Is still a dying horror! Prov. 'T is pity of him. [Exeunt. SCENE IV. — A Room in Angelo's House. Enter Axgelo. Aug. When I would pray and think, I think and pray To several suhjects. Heaven hath my empty words; AMiilst my invention,'^ hearing not my tongue, Anchors on Isahel. Heaven in my mouth. As if I did hut onlv chew his name ; And in my heart, the strong and swelling evil Of my conception. The state whereon I studied Is like a good thing, heing often read, Grown sear'd and tedious;'^ yea, my gravity, Wherein (let no man hear me) I take pride. Could I, with boot, change for an idle plume. Which the air beats for vain.^' O place! O form! How often dost thou with thy case, thy habit. Wrench awe from fools,'° and tie the wiser souls ACT II. SC. IV.] MEASUEE EOR MEASURE. 75 To thy false seeming! Blood, thou art blood Let 's write good angel on the devil's horn, 'T is not the devil's crest.^^ Enter Servant. How now! who 's there? Ser. One Isabel, a sister. Desires access to you. Ang. Teach her the way. O heavens! [Exit Servant. Why does my blood thus muster to my heart, Making both it unable for itself. And dispossessing all my other parts Of necessary fitness? So play the foolish throngs with one that swounds;^° Come all to help him, and so stop the air By which he should revive : and even so The general, subject to a well-wish'd king,^^ Quit their own part, and in obsequious fondness Crowd to his presence, where their untaught love Must needs appear offence. Enter Isabella. How now, fair maid? Isah. I am come to know your pleasure. Amj. That you might know it, would much better please me, Than to demand what 't is. Your brother cannot live. Isah. Even so? — ^Heaven keep your honour ! [Retiring. Ang. Yet may he live a while; and it may be, As long as you, or I: yet he must die. Isab. Under your sentence? Ang. Yea. Isab. When? I beseech you that, in his reprieve, Longer, or shorter, he may be so fitted. That his soul sicken not. Ang. Ha! Fie, these filthy vices! It were as good To pardon him, that hath from nature stolen A man already made, as to remit Their saucy sweetness,"^ that do coin heaven's image In stamps that are forbid 't is all as easy''* Falsely to take away a life true made,^" As to put mettle in restrained means,^'' To make a false one. 76 MEASURE EOR MEASURE. [act 101 Isah. 'T is set down so in heaven, but not in earth Aiiff. Say you so? then I shall poze you quickly. Which had you rather, that the most just law Now took your brother's life; or, to redeem him,^^ Give up your body to such sweet uncleanness, As she that he hath stain'd? Isah. Sir, believe this, I had rather give my body than my soul.^^ Ang. I talk not of your soul: Our compell'd sins Stand more for number than for accompt.^°° Isah. How say you? Ang. Nay, I '11 not warrant that; for I can speak Against the thing I say. Answer to this; — I, now the voice of the recorded law, Pronounce a sentence on your brother's life : Might there not be a charity in sin, To save this brother's life? Isah. Please you to do 't, I '11 take it as a peril to my soul ; It is no sin at all, but charity. Ang. Pleas'd you to do 't, at peril of your soul, Were equal poise of sin and charity. Isah. That I do beg his life, if it be sin. Heaven let me bear it! you granting of my suit. If that be sin, I '11 make it my morn-prayer To have it added to the faults of mine. And nothing of your answer. Ang. ^^Jy b^it hear me: Your sense pursues not mine : either you are ignorant, Or seem so crafty ;^^^ and that 's not good. Isah. Let me be ignorant, and in nothing good. But graciously to know I am no better. Ang. Thus wisdom wishes to appear most bright, When it does tax itself: as these black masks^°* Proclaim an enshield beauty^"' ten times louder Than beauty could, displayed. — But mark me; To be received plain, I '11 speak more gross: Your brother is to die. Isah. So. Ang. And his offence is so, as it appears Accountant to the law upon that pain.^°'' Isah. True. ACT II. sc. IV.] MEASURE EOB MEASURE. 77 Ang. Admit no other way to save his Hfe, (As I subscribe not that/°^ nor any other, But in the loss of question/"^) that you, his sister, Finding yourself desir'd of such a person. Whose credit with the judge, or own great place. Could fetch your brother from the manacles Of the all-building law;^"*^ and that there were No earthly mean to save him, but that either You must lay down the treasures of your body To this supposed, or else to let him suffer What would you do? Isah. As much for my poor brother as myself : That is, were I under the terms of death, Th' impression of keen whips T 'd wear as rubies, And strip myself to death, as to a bed That longing have been sick for,^^^ ere I 'd yield My body up to shame. Ang. Then must your brother die. Isah. And 't were the cheaper way : Better it were a brother died at once,^^*^ Than that a sister, by redeeming him, Should die for ever. Ang. Were not you, then, as cruel as the sentence That you have slander'd so? Isab. Ignomy in ransom,^^^ and free pardon. Are of two houses: lawful mercy Is nothing kin to foul redemption. Ang. You seem'd of late to make the law a tyrant; And rather prov'd the sliding of your brother A merriment, than a vice. Isah. O, pardon me, my lord; it oft falls out To have what we would have, we speak not what we mean : I something do excuse the thing I hate. For his advantage that I dearly love. Ang. We are all frail. Isah. Else let my brother die; If not a fnedarv/^* but only he Owe, and succeed thy weakness. Ang. Nay, women are frail too. Isah. Ay, as the glasses where they view themselves;^ Which are as easy broke as they make forms. Women! — Help heaven! men their creation mar 115 78 MEASURE EOR MEASURE. [act II. sc. IV. In profiting by them/'' Nay, call us ten times frail; For we are soft as our complexions are. And credulous to false prints/'^ All (J. I think it well: And from this testimony of your own sex, (Since, I suppose, we are made to be no stronger Than faults may shake our frames,^'^) let me be bold; — I do arrest your words. Be that you are, That is, a woman ; if you be more, you 're none ; If you be one, (as you are well express'd By all external warrants,) show it now, By putting on the destin'd livery. Isah. I have no tongue but one : gentle my lord. Let me entreat you speak the former language.''^ An(f. Plainly conceive, I love you. Isab. iSly brother did love Juliet ;^"'^ and you tell me That he shall die for 't. Aiuj. He shall not, Isabel, if you give me love. Isah. I know, your virtue hath a license in 't,^'' Which seems a little fouler than it is,'"^ To pluck on others. Amj. Believe me, on mine honour, My words express my purpose. Isah. Ila! little honour to be much believ'd. And most pernicious purpose! — Seeming, seeming!''^ — I will proclaim thee, Angelo; look for 't. Sign me a present pardon for my brother. Or, with an outstretch'd throat, I '11 tell the world aloud. What man thou art. Anfj. Who will believe thee, Isabel?^ . My unsoil'd name, th' austereness of my life. My vouch against you,''^ and my place i' the state. Will so your accusation overweio-h. That you shall stifle in your own report. And smell of calumny.'"^ I have begun; And now I give my sensual race the rein:^''' Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite ;^"^ Lay by all nicety, and prolixious blushes,^^^ That banish what they sue for; redeem thy brother By yielding up thy body to my will; Or else he nuist not only die the death, But thy unkindness shall his death draw out ACT II. SC. IV.J MEASUEE FOE MEASUEE. 79 To lingering sufferance: answer me to-morrow, Or, by the affection that now guides me most, I '11 prove a tyrant to him. As for you, Say what you can, my false o'erweighs your true. [Exit. Isah. To whom should I complain? Did I tell this, Who would believe me? O perilous mouths, That bear in them one and the self-same tongue, Either of condemnation or approof ! — Bidding the law make court'sy to their will; Hooking both right and wrong to th' appetite. To follow as it draws! I'll to my brother: Though he hath fallen by prompture of the blood, ^^'^ Yet hath he in him such a mind of honour,'^" That, had he twenty heads to tender down On twenty bloody blocks, he 'd yield them up, Before his sister should her body stoop To such abhorr'd pollution. Then, Isabel, live chaste, and, brother, die: More than our brother is our chastity! I '11 tell him yet of Angelo's request. And fit his mind to death, for his soul's rest. [Exit. ^ A Justice, Provost, Officers. " The Provost here," observes Douce, " is not a military officer, but a kind of sheriff or gaoler, so called in foreign countries." In the Famous Historye of Captaine Thomas Stukeley, 1605, sig. F 2, the keeper of the prison is called the prov ost. According to Mr. Pye, the keeper of the Savoy prison was always called Provost. The Provost Marshal was a different officer. ^ Than fall, and hruise to death. Fall is here used as an active verb, to let fall, to make to fall. " The execu- tioner falls not the axe upon the humbled neck," As You Like It. "As easy may'st thou fall a drop of water," Comedy of Errors. " Our new-fangled gentry have fall'n their haughty crests," Powe's Jane Shore. Other instances occur in the Tempest, Midsummer Night's Dream, &c. " Such needy robes should wrap the shoulders of necessity, when winter falls the leafe," Knave in Graine new Yampt, 1640. ^ Or that the resolute acting of your Hood. The four folios read our, generally altered to your, and, I think, rightly. Mr. Knight defends the old reading by observing that our Hood may mean, our nature, the nature of man. Your is misprinted our in other places. * Which note you censure him. That is, which now you censure him for. These elliptical expressions are very common. See vol. i, p. 275. , ^ May, in the sicorn twelve. One of Shakespeare's anachronisms, an English jury in a German court of justice. — Douce. What hioic the laws, that thieves do pass on thieves ? How can the Law know that thieves pass judgment on thieves ? If there are thieves amongst the jury, the Law is not cognisant of the fact. " Though weU we may not pass upon his life without the form of justice," King Lear. "'TIS very pregnant. It is plain that we must act with bad as with good ; we punish the faults, as we take the advantages that lie in our way, and what we do not see we cannot note. — Johnson. III. 11 82 NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. ^ For I have had such faults. Because, by reason, that I have had such faults. — Johnson. ^ Some rise ly sin, and some hy virtue fall. There is a peculiarity in this line in tlie first folio, it being printed entirely in Italics, as if it were a quotation, or a proverbial phrase. The line may, perhaps, be found in some contemporary poem ; but the early printers were so capricious in their arrangement and use of Italic type, that the circumstance of the line being so distinguished is not conclusive evidence that it is a quotation. ^" Some run from hrahes of vice, and ansicer none. The old copy reads hralces of Ice, corrected by Rowe. It has been remarked by Mr. Dyce that the early printers were very apt to mistake words that com- menced with the letter v. Brakes were engines of torture, so that the meaning is — Some escape from the punishments due to their crimes, and offer no ex- planation or defence of their conduct, while others are condemned for a single error. " And with a cole rake Brose them on a brake," Skelton's Why Come ye Nat to Com'te, ap. Dyce, ii. 57. "I brake on a brake or payne bauke, as men do mysdoers to confesse the trouthe," Palsgrave, ib. ii. 371. " The false murdrer was braked thrise or ever he wolde confesse the trouthe," Palsgrave, 1530. Steevens obsen'es that it appears from Holinshed, p. 670, that the hrake was an engine of torture. " The said Hawkins was cast into the Tower, and at length brought to the hraTce, called the Duke of Excester's daughter, by means of which pain he shewed many things," &c. " When the Dukes of Exeter and Suffolk, (says Blackstone, in his Commentaries, vol. iv. chap. xxv. pp. 320, 321,) and other ministers of HenrV' VL, had laid a design to introduce tlie civil law into this kingdom as the rule of government, for a beginning thereof they erected a rack for torture, which was caUed in derision the Duke of Exeter's Daughter, and still remains in tlie Tower of London, where it was occasionally used as an engine of state, not of law, more than once in the reign of Queen Elizabeth." See Coke's Instit. 35, Barrington, 69, 385, and Puller's AYorthies, p. 317. A part of this horrid engine still (in the time of Steevens) remains in the Tower. It con- sists of a strono' iron frame about six feet long, with three rollers of wood M'ithin it. The middle one of these, which has iron teeth at each end, is go- verned by two stops of iron, and was, probably, that part of the machine which suspended the powers of the rest, when the unhappy sufferer was sufficiently strained by the cords to begin confession. The accompanying engraving of this fragment of tlie machine is copied from one given by Steevens. We can not, as yet, gett the pyth of his credence, wherby I am advised to morowe ones to go (to) the Towre, and see hym sett in the hrahes, and, by tour- ment, compelled to confesse the truth. — Letter dated 1539, State Papers, i. 602. The Dent annotated copy, and Rowe, read, — " Some run through brakes of vice, and answer none." Tliis reading was adopted by most of the early editors. Capell pro])osed, — " Some run from brakes of justice, answer none," on the suppo- sition that Ice, in the original manuscript, was a contracted form of Justice. NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. 83 Steevens suggested that brakes might possibly be put for breaks^ — " Some run from breaks (fractures) of ice ;" that is, some run away from danger, and stay to answer none of their faults, whilst others are condemned only on account of a single frailty. The term Irake had a great variety of meanings. It was applied to a thicket, a trap, a snaffle for horses, to a strong wooden frame in which the feet of young and vicious horses were confined by farriers, preparatory to their being shod, and also to some kind of military engine. The first meaning may possibly be considered to suit the context in the passage in the text, supposing the latter to refer to the thorny paths of vice, from which, thick-set as they are, some escape without punishment. " The rough brake that virtue must go through," Henry VIII. " Thorns and snares are in the way of the froward," Prov. xxii. 5. There is something to countenance this explanation in an eloquent passage in the Underwoods, — Look on the false and cunning man, that loves No person, nor is loved : what ways he proves To gain upon his beUy; and, at last, Crush'd in the snaky brakes that he had past ! Notices of other meanings of the word may be seen in Nares, p. 56, and in my Dictionary of Archaic AYords, i. 205. Brakes, construed traps, would also make good sense. See Skelton, ed. Dyce, ii. 169. To answer none, to give no answer. There is a similar idiom still current in the provinces. It is none too late, that is, not at aU too late, Eorby, ii. 234. This comes off well. The same phrase is employed in Timon of Athens, and elsewhere ; but in the present instance it is used ironically. The meaning of it, when seriously applied to speech, is — This is well delivered, this story is well told. — Steevens. Hes out at elbow. I know not whether this quibble be generally understood : he is out at the word elbow, and out at the elbow of his coat. The constable, in his account of master Froth and the Clown, has a stroke at the Puritans, who were very zealous against the stage about this time : Precise villains they are, that I am sure of : and void of all profanation in the world, that good Christains ought to have." — Farmer. A tapster, sir ; parcel-bawd. Parcel-bawd, that is, partly a bawd. " I have no hopes ever to make him stand nearer a woman then the people do to the stake at a bear-baiting, unless I can make him parcel-drunk," Flora's Vagaries, 1670. And now she professes a hot-house. A hot-house, an old English term for a bagnio, and a " very ill house" was frequently kept under the pretence of its being a hot-house. There is a curious allusion to this practice in Mill's Night Search, 1640, p. 88, — She kept a hot-house, which did bring her gold, Under pretence ; but 'twas too hot to hold. Ben Jonson has an epigram on the subject, and after remarking that such an house was now called a hot-house, says it may still be an ill-house, for " th' are synonima,'^ Workes, ed. 1616, p. 770 ; and again to the same eflPect in Every Man out of his Humour, fol. ed. p. 99. Nash, in his Have AVith You to Saffron Walden, 1596, gives testimony of a similar kind. The reader may also be referred to the following notice in the 'Articles of the Charge of the Wardmote M NOTES TO TEE SECOND ACT. Inquest,' Stow's Survey of London, fol. Lond. 1633, p. G76, — "Also if tliere be any house wherein is kept and holden any hot-house, or sweating-house, for ease and hcaUh of men, to the which be resorting or conversant any strumpets or women of cvill name or fame, or if there be any hot-house or sw eating ordained for women, to the which is any common recourse of young men, or of otlier persons of evill fame and suspect conditions." It also appears that there M as an order against the reception of persons in hot-houses at night. These articles are repeated in Calthrop's Reports, 1G70. A very loose ])ocm in AVit at a A^enture, or Clio's Privy- Garden, 12mo. Lond. 1G74, entitled 'the Virtue of a Hot-house,' tells the same tale, but it will not bear a quotation. As artiticiall baths are very requisite for leane and dry melancholick bodyes : so are stoves or hot-houses for phlegniatick, and all such as are of a moyst and grosse habit of body: for they mightily procure sweat, consume crudities, strongly dry, enleane, and corroborate such bodies. But let such as have feeble spirits, and that are weak by nature, utterly refraine them, because they quickly exhaust feeble spirits, and cause swouning. Stoves are in little use with us, but with the Germans and other Northern nations very much. The Turks bestow so great cost upon their hot-houses, as the ancient Eomans did about their artificiall warme baths : for in Constantinople you may behold large and stately stoves, and many sweating in them at once. — Venners Via Recta ad Vitam Lougani, 103 7. 'Twere wisdome in you to have him to the bath, and stew him ; he will make a most rare codling ; a wife is too violent a hot house for him. — The IJlzard, a Play, 1640, MS. Notices of hot-houses are common, and a large number of extracts would not be of much value. The following references, however, may be worth giving : — "The baines or hot-house," Nomenclator, 1585; Eaynalde's Birth of Man-kinde, other^yse named the Woman's Booke, 4to. Lond. 1598, p. 135 ; Beturne from Pernassus, IGOG ; "Westward Hoe, 1607; Goulart, ed. Grimston, 1607, quoted by Steevens; Withals' Dictionarie, ed. 1608, p. 216; Ammianus Marccllinus, ed. Holland, 1609, in a marginal note; Barrough's Method of Physick, 1624; Anchorani Porta Linguarum, 8vo. 1610, p. 102; The Humorists, 1671, p. 7; Garth's Dispensary; Puritan, ed. Malone, p. 598, &c. Whom I detest hefore heaven. Detest, used blunderingly for protest, has previously occurred in the Merry Wives of Windsor, in one of Mrs. Quickly's speeches. See vol. ii. p. 276. Monck Mason suggests that ElboM', in both instances, uses detest for attest, that is, to call witness. For it is a naughty house. It is the common sentence and judgement of lawjers that he bathe an uncertaine father, and a naughty mother, whiche is not borne in matrimony. — Cornelius Agrippas Commendation of Matrimony, translated hy Dacid Clapam, 1545. ^"^ Ay, sir, by mistress Ocerdoiie's means. Here seems to have been some mention made of Eroth, who was to be accused, and some words therefore may have been lost, unless the irregularity of the narrative may be better imputed to the ignorance of the constable. — Johnson. Longing, saving your honour s reverence, for steio'd prunes. Stewed prunes were universally the signs of a house of bad fame. You shall know a bawd, says Lodge, in his Wits Miserie, 1596, p. 38, "by a dish of steicd NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. 85 pruins in the window." See further on this subject in the Notes to Henry IV. Primes is spelt prewyns in the first folio. Which at that very distant time. " In Pope's edition it is, ' which at that very instant time,' which I suppose is right ; for the poet through this whole dialogue places the absurdity of expression to the account of the constable, not of the tapster, whose character is that of impudent impertinence," Heath's Revisal. Her walke was very solitary and shady, with a faire spring or well adjoyning to it, and thither, at that very instant time, certaine Sicilian young gentlemen, which came from Naples, had made their retreate. — Boccacid's Decameron, English translation, ed. 1625. 20 ji j'ruit-dlsh, a dish of some three-pence. Most probably an earthenware dish, those of wood being generally termed fruit-trenchers. The latter were frequently ornamented witli figures and posies. Eruit-dishes of earthenware were not generally used till late in the sixteenth century. The one here represented is taken from a print by Abraham Bosse, 1633, where some ladies are introduced frying apple-fritters. The dish con- tains apples, some cut in slices, the peel laying beside them. Holme, in his Academy of Armory, the un- published portion, gives a curious list of dishes, according to their sizes ; — "A platter, if large ; a dish, which (is) of a lesser sort ; a midleing dish ; a broth dish, deeper bottomed then flesh dishes ; a bason is almost halfe round in the concave or belly, and narrow or broad, or noe brime at all ; a sallett dish ; a trencher plate, or plate ; a sawser." A large number of ornamented fruit- trenchers, or wooden fruit-dishes, have been preserved to this day, one specimen of which is here engraved. Puttenham has a curious notice of them in his chapter on posies, — " There be also other like epigrammes that were sent usually for new yeares giftes, or to be printed or put upon their banketting dishes of suger plate, or of march- paines, and never contained above one verse, or two at the most, but the shorter the better: we call them posies, and do paint them now-a-dayes upon the backe sides of our fruite trenchers of wood." Some specimens are of a very elaborate character, but the present one better suits the possible application to the passage in the text. They are not China dishes, hut very good dishes. China or porcelain ware, the former term being often applied to the porcelain of Italy as well as to that which came from China, was much esteemed in Shake- speare's time. It is very likely that Venetian porcelain was passed off as real china, and the china dishes to which the Clown alludes were not improbably of the ornamental ware generally termed Majolica. Thus Minslieu, in a marginal note in his Pleasant and DehghtfuU Dialogues in Spanish and English, 1599, p. 12, 8G NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. g'losses China mettall as " the fine dishes of earth painted, such as are brought from Venice ;" and, in his edition of Percivale's Spanish Dictionarie, p. 193, he describes porcelain as, " a kinde of earthen vessell painted, costly fruit dishes of fine earth painted." Compare, also, Elorio's AVorlde of Wordes, ed. 1598, p. 285, — ''Porcellatia, a kinde of fine earth called Porcelane, whereof they make fine China dishes, called Porcellan dishes." The beautifid colouring of this ware is gracefully alluded to by Ben Jonson, in his masque of Pan's Anniversary, which was presented at Court in the year 1625; and Heywood, in his Phdocothonista, 1635, observes of drinking-pots that " the most curious and costly, either for workmanship or mettall, are brought from China." Eine porcelain ware is thus alluded to in the curious poem, A Herrings Tayle, 1598, — Not Samian clay (potters chiefe pride) can match M ith this, Nor scene through porcelaine, that so long tempring is. " Oriental porcelain was known in Europe at a very early period : the first positive mention of it occurs in an inventory of effects of the queen of Charles Le Bel, king of France, who died 1370 : ' Item, un pot a eau de pierre de porcelaine, a un couvercle d 'argent et borde d'argent dore, pesant j marc, iiij ounces, xvij estellins, prisie xiiij fr. d'or.' Although we have so early a record of it in Erance, 1 am not aware of its being noticed in England earlier than the reign of Henry VIII ; at least, not so as to be identified. Among the original letters edited by sir Henry Ellis, we read of a present of 'iij potts of erthe payntid callyd porseland.' It is also distinctly spoken of in 1587, as a present to queen Elizabeth, mounted in silver and gold : ' Item, one cup of grene pursselyne, the foote, shanke, and cover, silver guilte, chased like droppes. . . . Item, one cup of pursseljTie th'one side paynted red, the foote and cover silver guilte. . . . Item, one porrynger of white porselyn, garnished with golde, the cover of golde, with alyonontlie toppe thereof, 88 oz.' Ben Jonson says : 'Ay, sir ! his wife Avas the rich China- woman, that the courtiers visited so often.' The following vessels, from an inventory of the jewels, etc., in the Castle of Edinburgh, 1578, were probably China ware : ' Twa flaconis of layme anamalit with blew and quheit, and ane all blew.' And in another account of the queen of Scot's 'moveables' under 'vesshelis of glasse,' 1562: ' Item, a figure of ane doig maid in quliite laym. ... ']. basing and lair with aips wormes and serpents. . . . Onelawer with a cowp and a cover of copper enamaUit.' " — Arch. Jour. During the reign of Elizabeth, several Spanish carracks were taken, a part of whose cargo was China ware of porcelaine. In the time of Cromwell, a duty of twenty shillings was paid on every dozen China dishes under a quart, and of sixty on those of a quart and upwards (Oliverian acts, 1657). — Douce. " In 1615, Elkington speaks of China ware as forming part of the cargo of the ship New Year's Gift, taken at Bantam in that year. Among the eff'ects of Lady Dorothy Shirley, 1620, are mentioned a case of glasses, — purslin stuflPe, Chinie stufi'e, two dozen of purslen dishes, &c.," Marryat's History of Pottery, p. 104. " Item, one stone jugge covered and bounden with silver guilt, iij.//. n\].s. — Item, one pursland boule with a guilt foote and a guilt cover, xlv.s.," Inventory of the Goods of the Countess of Leicester, 1631-5. " Item, sixe pursland fruit dishes," ibid., j\IS. roll on vellum. Marco Polo, the Venetian, was the first European traveller on record who penetrated into China. He mentions the vast extent to which the manufacture of porcelain was carried at the time of his residence in the celestial empire, during the thirteenth century, and states, ' that of this place, Kinsai, there is nothing further to be observed, than that cups or bowls, and dishes of porcelain wares, are NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. 87 there manufactured. The process was explained to be as follows : — They collect a certain kind of earth, as it were, from a mine, and, laying it in a great heap, suflPer it to be exposed to the wind, rain, and sun, for thirty or forty years, during which time it is never disturbed. By this means it becomes refined, and fit for being wrought into the vessels above mentioned. Such colours as may be thought proper are then laid on, and the ware is afterwards baked in ovens or furnaces. Those persons, therefore, who cause the earth to be dug, collect it for their children and grandchildren.' We are not throughly resolved concerning Porcellaue or China dishes, that according to common belief they are made of earth, which lyeth in preparation about an hundred years under ground ; for the relations thereof are not only divers, but contrary; and authors agree not herein. Guido PanciroUus will have them made of egg-shells, lobster-shells, and gypsum, laid up in the earth the space of eighty years : of the same afiirmation is Scaliger, and the common opinion of most. Eamuzius, in his Navigations, is of a contrary assertion ; that they are made out of earth, not laid under ground, but hardened in the sun and winde the space of fourty years. But Gonzales de Mendoza, a man imployed into China from Phillip, the second King of Spain, upon enquiry and ocular experience delivered a way different from all these. For enquiring into the artifice thereof, he found they were made of a chalky earth ; which beaten and steeped in water, afford eth a cream or fatnesse on the top, and a gross subsidence at the bottom ; out of the cream or superfluitance, the finest dishes, saith he, are made ; out of the residence thereof the courser ; which being formed, they gild or paint, and not after an hundred years, but presently commit unto the furnace. This, saith he, is known by experience, and more probable then what Odoardus Barbosa hath delivered, that they are made of shels, and buried under earth an hundred years. And answerable in all points hereto, is the relation of Linschotten, a diligent enquirer, in his Oriental Navigations. Later confirmation may be had from Alvarez, the Jesuit, who lived long in those parts, in his relations of China. That Porcel- lane vessels were made but in one town of the province of Chiamsi : that the earth was brought out of other provinces, but for the advantage of water which makes them more polite and perspicuous, they were only made in this ; that they were wrought and fashioned like those of other countries, whereof some were tincted blew, some red, others yellow, of which colour only they presented unto the King. Now if any enquire, why, being so commonly made, and in so short a time they are become so scarce, or not at all to be had, the answer is given by these last relators, that under great penalties it is forbidden to carry the first sort out of the countrey. And of those surely the properties must be verefied, which by Scaliger and others are ascribed to China-dishes ; that they admit no poyson, that they strike fire, that they will grow hot no higher then the liquour in them ariseth. Eor such as passe amongst us, and under the name of the finest, will only strike fire, but not discover Aconite, Mercury, or Arsenick ; but may be useful in dysenteries and fluxes beyond the other. — Browiis Pseudodoxia Epidemica, 1658. Vitel. You have hirde a shop, then ? Gazet. Yes, sir, and our wares. Though brittle as a maydenhead at sixteene, Are safe unladen ; not a christall crackt, Or china dish needs sodring. — Massinger s Benegado, 1630. The finest China mettal's broken soon ; The nightingal's sweet pipe's soon out of tune. El. ad Jin. Jacomhes Hoses his Death, 1656. 88 NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. Of these kind of clay or earthen-weare, called Tickney weare, there arc divers kinds, as China, counterfet China, white tickney, and mugen weare, both red, black, and yellow. — Holmes Acad. Arm., MS. Add. This town is dearer then Jerusalem, After a years siege ; they would make us 2)ay Eor day-light, if they know to measure The sun-beames by the yard. Nay, sell the very Aire too, if they could serve it out in fine China-bottels. If you walk but three turnes In the High -street, they will ask you mony Eor wearing out the pebles. Davenani's Neices from Plymouth, 1G73. Enter Lady Eidget with a piece of China in her hand, and Horner follow in (/. — La. Fid. And I have been toy ling and moyling, for the pretti'st piece of China, my dear. — Jlor. Nay, she has been too hard for me, do what I cou'd. — Squeam. Oh Lord, I'le have some China too, good Mr. Horner, don't think to give other ])eople China, and me none, come in with me too. — Hor. Upon my honour I have none left now. — Squeam. Nay, nay, I have known you deny your China before now, but you shan't put me off so, come. — Ilor. This lady had the last there. — La. Fid. Yes, indeed. Madam, to my certain knowledge he has no more left. — The Country-Wfe, 4ito. 1675, p. 70. Compare the same play, p. G6. Fli. But Madam, will you provide us lodgings on occasion. — Tour. The richest in the town, the costliest hangings, great glasses, China dishes, silver tables, silver stands, and silver urinals — -And then these gallants are the closest lovers, so good at keeping a secret. — Lee's Princess of Clere, 1 089. The China-houses of a later period, and their character, scarcely come within the scope of this enquiry. See, however, Sedley's Bellamira, 1687, and various plays of the latter part of the seventeenth century. There is a curious passage in Mill's Night's Search, 1640, which proves that Sliakespeare was not writing at random in mentioning China dishes in connexion with a house of bad character. A bawd thus addresses a girl who resisted seduction : — Eut stay, you queane, there's something else behind, And that, I think, which will not please your mind. Nay, never stare, nor put it off with pishes ; Thou'st lost and melted me ten pewter dishes, And hrol'c my China ware ; thou paultry elfe, Thou'lt nere be worth an earthen dish thyself. Sitting, as L say, in a loicer chair. " Every house," says Steevens, "had formerly, among its other furniture, what was called a low chair, designed for the ease of sick people, and occasionally occupied by lazy ones: of these conveniences I have seen many, though, perhaps, at ])resent they are wholly disused." Low chairs are occasionally mentioned in old inventories. " One high chaire and low chair, and four little stooles," MS. Inventory, 1628. "Item, a lardge seat with two longe quishions, I high chayre, ten high-backe chaires, 2 Iom'c chejres, 2 lowe stooles, one foote stoole, one cannopy, valens, and curtens, 1 longe carpett, and one cupbord carpett, all of greene imbroyderd," Inventory of the goods of the Countess of Leicester, taken in 1631-5. The subjoined representation of a woman seated in a low cliair is taken by Mr. Eairholt from a Erench print by Abraham Bosse, 1633. NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. 89 The barbers, in the Divils Charter, a Tragsedie conteining the Life and Death of Pope Alexander the Sixt, 1607, operate on a nobleman, and commence by requesting him to sit on a "low chaire." Lower, in the text, is used merely, by an ordinary license, instead of loio. Thus, in the Witty Apothegms, 12mo. 1669, one anecdote commences as follows, — " The- mistocles, in his loioer fortune, was in love with a young gentleman, which scorned him." ~^ ^Tioas in the Bunch of Grapes. The custom of distinguishing rooms by fanciful names was very usual in the time of Shakespeare, and is not yet entirely obsolete. The Bunch of Grapes was formerly a common sign for an inn. There is pre- served, in the City of London Museum, a token, dated 1669, of " Thomas May at y" Bunch of Grapes in Bederife." A tavern, so called, is mentioned in Gil Bias. It is an open room, and good for winter. An open room was, possibly, a room leading into an outer gallery, and unpro- tected by windows or lattices. Such a room would of course be " good for summer," and hence the absurdity of poor Eroth's observation. It has been proposed to read windows for winter, an alteration which completely destroys the humour, which was evidently intentional. At the same time, the ordinary meaning of open, airy, would make perfect sense ; and it is a mere impression that the term, an open room, was applied to any particular sort of room. Erasmus, in a letter to one of Wolsey's physicians, complains of the construction of English houses, the windows of which, he observes, admitted unwholsome currents of air. Ptl he supposed on a hooh. The Clown's mistake for " deposed." — Malone. Justice, or Iniquity ? These two substantives are printed in Italics in the first folio. The old vice. Iniquity, is well described by Ben Jonson, and forms the subject of another note. The critics generally think there is here an allusion to two dramatic personages. It is possible that such is the case, but still a plain interpretation will suit the context ; — which is the wiser here, the official who alledges the charge, or the criminal himself? These were, I suppose, two personages well known to the audience by their frequent appearance iu the old moralities. The words, therefore, at that time produced a combination of ideas, which they have now lost. — Johnson. "Justice, or Iniquity?," the Constable or the Eool. Escalus calls the latter Iniquity, in allusion to the old Vice, a familiar character in the ancient moralities and dumb-shews. Justice may have a similar allusion, which I am unable to explain. Iniquitie is one of the personages in " the pretie enterlude of Kyng Daryus ;" and in the Eirst Part of King Henry IV., Prince Henry calls Ealstaif, — " that reverend Vice, that grey Iniquity.'''' — Ritson. 0 thou toiched Hannihat ! Either the constable's mistake for cannibal, or a ludicrous misapplication of III. 12 90 NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. the name of tlic Carthag-inian general. " Some bilbow blades lie meetes witliall, and those, either for feare of an affront, or purposely to make them his champions uj)on occasions of quarrell, he makes guard le corpse, and these can humour him to an liaire, call him their Annibal, and that title payes for all," Bralluvait's Survey of History, 1638, p. 328. There is, however, a passage in AYebster's Dutchess of Malfi, Works, ed. Dyce, i. 211, which shows that, in all probability, the constable uses the name in mistake for cannihal, one of the characters employing the very expression, " 0, wicked cannibal ! a fire-lock in 's cod-piece." Thou art to continue. Perhaps Elbow, misinterpreting the language of Escalus, supposes the Clown is to continue in confinement at least, he conceives some severe punishment or other to be implied by the word. — Steevens. 3£istress Over-done. A similarly formed supposititious name occurs in Powell's Art of Thriving, 12mo. Lond. 1G35, p. 3, — " amongst the rest, myselfe made shift for so much money as wherewith to abate the fury of Mistrisse Ocercount, mine hostesse, and so I departed likewise." They will draw you, and you icill hang them. Escalus, playing on the terms of drawing and lianging, observes to Eroth that tapsters will drain him till he will be reduced to hang or depend upon them. Froth, in his next speech, takes the words literally. It is just possible that by "you will hang them," Escalus means to say that Eroth, in his simplicity, will reveal the secrets of the prison-house, and bring them to punishment. Yo%ir hum is the greatest thing about you. An allusion to the ridiculous fashion of the large trunk hose, the upper part of the breeches being made exceedingly full, and bombasted out with wool, rags, ^tc. A partial adoption of this fashion appears to have obtained at a very early period, for Chaucer condemns something of the kind in his very curious observations on costume in the Persones Tale ; but the custom that is alluded to in the text did not come absolutely into vogue till the reign of Queen Elizabeth. It seems to have declined for a time, at least in degree, at the end of the sixteenth century; but the absm'dity was revived in full splendom' about the period when Measure for Measure is supposed to have been written. Harrison and Stubbes complain sadly of the money lavished upon this portion of the dress by nearly aU classes of society. Tlie former, writing about the year 1580, exclaims, — "what should I sale of their doublets with pendant codpeeses on the brest full of jags and cuts, and sleeves of sundrie colours, their gaUicascons to beare out their bums, and make their attire to sit plum round, as they terme it, about them ?" In another place he says that " we men doe seeme to bestowe most cost" upon this part of their costume, which was often richly adorned with expensive work. " Tyro's round breeches have a cliffe behind," Tyro's Roaring Megge, 1598, ap. Steevens. " Sometimes I have seen Tarlton play the clowne, and use no other breeches than such sloppes or slivings as now many gentlemen weare ; they are almost capable of a bushel of wheate, and if they bee of sackcloth, they would serve to carry mawlt to the miU : this absurd, clownish, and unseemely attire only by custome now is not misliked, but rather approved," Wright's Passions of the Minde, IGOl, ap. Fairholt. In MS. Harl. 3G7 is an amusing poem, of about this date, in which the writer complains that the farmers lose the tails of their cattle owing to the hair being requiied for the stuffing of the hose. It is entitled, "A lamentable Com- NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. 91 plaint of the pore Countrymen againste great hose, for the losse of their Cattelles Tails," and the following extracts may be selected as bearing on the present subject : — For proude and paynted parragones, and monstrus breched beares. This realme almost hath cleane distroyed, whicli I reporte with teares. And chefely those of cache degree, who monstruse hose delyghte. As mounsters fell, have done to us most grevus liurte and spyte . . . As now of late in lesser thinges, to furnyshe forthe theare pryde. With woole, with flaxe, with hare also, to make thear bryches wyde. What hurte and damage doth ensew, and fall upon the poore, Eor want of woll and flax of late, which mounstrus hose devore. But lieare hath so possessed of late the bryche of every knave. That not one beast nor horse can tell, which e waye his tale to saufe. — But now noe mayne, nor tayle of beaste, can longe time here abyde ; Tlierefore great neade wee have in thne some healpe for to provide. And that with speede to take awaye, great bryches as the cause Of all this hurte, or ealse to make some sharpe and houlsome lawes. — Alasse ! good man, his happe was hardde, thus comynge out of Wayles, Wheare he had hasarded his beaffes, and here to lose theare tayles ! And all to stuffe and furnyshe forthe our foule disgeysed hose. Which never ganed any manne, but makethe manye lose. So that in fyne the charytie, whiche Chrysten men should have. By dyvers wayes is blemyshed, to boulster breaches brave. But now for tiiat noe remedye as yet cann wel be founde, I wolde that suche as weare this heare, weare well and trewly bounde, AVith every heare a louse to have, to stuffe tliear hreijches oute ; And then I trust they wolde not weare, nor beare sucJie haggs about. This poem is printed at length in Eairliolt's Satirical Songs and Ballads on Costume, 1 849 ; but the above verses are sufficient to illustrate the fashion alluded to in the text. The best account is that given in Bulwer's Pedigree of the English Gallant, 1653, p. 54*1 : — "At the time when the fashion came up of wearing trunk-hose, some young men used so to stuffe them with rags, and other like things, that you might find some that used such inventions to extend them in compasse with as great eagernesse as the women did take pleasure to weare great and stately verdingales, for this was the same affectation, beino- a kind of verdino-all breeches. The author of the Spanish Callant tels us a story of what happened to one that thought he excelled so much in this fashion, that he stuffed a foUado of velvet that he did weare with branne, and being set in seemely manner amongst some ladies, to whom he desired to shew his bravery and neatnesse, as he w'as talking merrily of something that pleased him, he was so excedingly taken with delight that possessed him, that he could not take notice of a small rent which was made with a naile of the chaire he sat upon, in one of his two pockets of branne (who though the harme was but in his hose, yet he found it after in his heart ;) for, as he was moving and stroaking himselfe with much gallantry, the bran began to drop out by little and little, without his perceiving it, but the ladies that sat over against him and saw it (it being by his motion like meale that commeth from the mill, as it grindeth) laughed much at it, and looked one upon another; and the gallant, supposing 92 NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. that his good behaviour, mirtli, and sporting, was pleasing to them, laughed with the ladies for company; and it so much pleased him, that the more he strove to delight the company, the more the mill did grind forth the branne : the laugliter by little and little encreased, and he appeared as confident as a man that had shed much blond by a wound, untill he espied tlie heape of branne, which came out of his hose, and then he began to recall himselfe, and dissembling his shame, he tooke his leave and departed, to mend the mischiefe that lay in ambush for him, as the proverbe goes, you may find out bloud by the footsteps. Better ])rofit than this did a prisoner make of the linings of his breeches, who, being to go before the judge for a certaine cause he was accused of, it being at that time when the law was in force against wearing bayes stufPed in their breeches, and he then having stuffed his breeches very full, the judges told him that he did weare his breeches contrary to the law ; who began to excuse himselfe of the offence, and endeavouring by little and little to discharge himselfe of that which he did weare within them, he drew out of his breeches a paire of sheets, two table cloaths, ten napkings, foure shirts, a brush, a glasse, and a combe, night-caps, and other things of use, saying, all the hall being strewed with this furniture, your Highnesse may under- stand that because I have no safer a storehouse, these pockets do serve me for a roome to lay up my goods in, and though it be a straight prison, yet is it a store- house big enough for them, for I have many things more of value yet within it : and so his discharge was accepted and Avell laughed at, and they commanded him that he should not alter the furniture of his store-house, but that he should rid the hall of his stuffe, and keep them as it pleased him." The woodcut in the prece- ding page is a reduced copy of one gi^ en by Bulwer in illustration of this subject. Randal Holme, in an unpublished work written towards the close of the seventeenth century, gives a similar account, from which it will suffice to quote the following extract : About midle of Q. Eliz. raigne the slops or trunke-hose, with pease-cod-bellied doublets, were much esteemed, which yonge men used to stuffe with rags and other like things, to extend them in compasse with as great eagernes as women did take pleasure to weare great and stately verdingales, for this was the same in effect, beina: a kind of verdino-all breeches. — MS. Ilarl. 2014. Our bumcast hose, our trebble double ruffes, Our sutes of silke, our comelie garded capes, Our knit silke stockes, and Spanish leather shooes. Yea, velvet serves oft times to trample in. Our plumes, our spangs, and all our queint aray, Are pricking spurres provoking filtliie pride. And snares unseene which lead a man to hell. The Steele Glasse, by George Gascoigne, 1575. There are boulsters likewise for the buttocks as w^el as the breast, and why forsooth ? the smaller in the wast, the better handled. — Lodge's JFits Miserie, 4to. Lond. 159G, p. 15. Strutt quotes the following curious note from MS. Harl. 980 : " Memorandum, that over the seats in the Parliament House there were certain holes, some two inches square, in the walls, in which were placed posts to uphold a scaffold round about the House within, for them to sit upon wlio used the wearing of great breeches stuffed with hair like woolsacks ; which fashion being left the eighth year of Elizabeth, the scaffolds Avere taken down and never since put up." The date on this memorandum is not very perfect, but I think it is anno 33 Eliz., or a.d. 1591. NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. 93 And for false cards and dice, let my great slops And his big-bellied dublet both be sercht, And see which harbors most hipocrisie. Nobody and Somebody, with the Historie of Elydure, n. d. Now art thou like the wide breech, doublet strait, But er't be long, thou wilt estranged be, Like the Erench quarter slop, or the gorbelly. The long-stokt hose, or close Venetian. Skialetheia, or a Shadoioe of Truth, 1598. The fashion was greatly in vogue about this period (1598), for Gervase Markham, in his Eodomonth's Infernall, published in that year, says in his dedicatory epistle, — " the body of the worke must needs be faire, and onely the deformitie in his English apparel! ; and no wonder, for 1 protest the translation was finisht and forth of my hands above a dozen yeares agone, a time wherein bumbasted breeches and straite whale-bon'd dublets had neither use nor estimation." If your iDorship icill tahe order for the drabs. Take order, that is, take measures. So, in Othello, — " Honest lago hath ta'en order for 't." — Steevens. I'll rent the fairest house in it, after three-pence a bay. A bay is any division of a building, denoted by prominent architectural features of the same kind. Thus the spaces between the buttresses or pilasters would be termed bays. ''Chaas is the space and length betweene beame and beanie, wall and wall, in building, or a bay of building," Cotgrave. According to a writer of the last century, " bay, when used alone, and particularly in the text, means a division of a house: to explain this, I must acquaint you with the original manner of building with us in England: it was thus, — a long building was made, and then divided into rooms with partition-walls to three or more divisions : every one of these was called a hay, and even to this day with us in Nottinghamshire (though houses are now built otherwise), when a new house is spoke of as built or to be let, the common question is, how many hays has it, or how many bays of building ; and all outhouses, as barns, stables, are only thus distinguished by bays." Steevens quotes the following lines in illustration from Hall's Satires, — His rent in faire respondence must arise, To double trebles of his one yeares price ; Of 07ie bayes breadth, God wot, a silly cote. Whose thatched spars are furr'd with sluttish soote. Pope reads, " after three pence a day,'' but, with the ordinary acceptation, this would not make a good meaning, for, considering the value of money in the six- teenth century, the rent of three-pence a day would not convey that sense of desolation which is evidently intended. The architectural term hay was sometimes written day, as in a will quoted in a Journey through England, 8vo. 1721, where the word is applied, with some license, to the space between the mullions of a window. ^* By your readiness in the office. By the readiness, ed. 1623. Corrected by Pope. Mr. Collier defends the old reading, interpreting it, — " by the readiness you showed in the office." I pray you home to dinner with me. Eleven o'clock was the usual dinner hour in Shakespeare's time, and the man- 94 NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. ners of his own country and day are introduced into this play, although the scene is laid at Vienna. Harrison, in his Description of England, written about the year 15S0, says, " tlie nobilitie, gcntrie, and students, do ordinarilie go to dinner at eleven before noone, and to supper at five, or betweene five and six at afternoone ; the merchants dine and sup seldome before twelve at noone and six at night, especiallie in Eondon ; the husbandmen dine also at liigh noone, as they call it, and sup at seven or eight ; but out of the tearme, in our universities, the scholers dine at ten." The Earl of AVorcester, at Ragland Castle, before the Civil Wars, dined exactly at eleven o'clock (Ant!q. Eepert., iv. 307). In the Historye of Captaine Stukely, 1G05, Old Stukely calling on ]\Iaster Newton at one o'clock, the latter says, — "will you abroad so soone, sir, after dinner?" and again, Old Stukely observes, " 'tis past dinner time in the hall an hower ago." Pardon is still the nurse of second woe. " One slioidd no more trust an infamous detractor, tlien a M ilde and untamed horse, and thougli sufferance may seeme to be a certaine consent and recognition of errour, or somewhat inclining thereto, so as some supposed it to be a kinde of distributive justice, to be as it were a rocke to bad men, and an harbour and port to the good," Passenger of Eenvenuto, 1G12. The same sentiment is again used, • — " sparing Justice feeds Iniquitie," Allot's England's Parnassus, 1600, from Shakespeare. ^" 'Save your honour! Your honour, which is so often repeated in this scene, was in our author's time the usual mode of address to a lord. It had become antiquated after the Eestora- tion ; for Sir AVilliam Davenant, in his alteration of this play, has substituted jjour excellence in the room of it. — Jfalone. AVhitney concludes the Epistle Dedicatory to the Earl of Eeicester, prefixed to his Emblems, I5S6, — " Your Honour's humble and faithfuU Servant, Geffrey AVhitney." Stay a little while. It is not clear why tlie Provost is bidden to stay, nor when he goes out. — Johnson. The entrance of Lucio and Isabella should not, perhaps, be made till after Angelo's speech to the Provost, who had only announced a lady, and seems to be detained as a witness to the purity of the deputy's conversation with her. His exit may be fixed with that of Eucio and Isabella. He cannot remain longer, and there is no reason to think he departs before. — Bitsou. Stay a little while, is said by Angelo, in answer to the words, 'Save your honour; which denoted the Provost's intention to depart. Isabella uses the same words to Angelo, when she goes out, near the conclusion of this scene. So also, when she offers to retire, on finding her suit ineffectual : " Heaven keep yom- honour!" — Malone. At war Hwixt ' wilt and ' icill not.' That is, for which I must not plead, but that there is a conflict in my breast ])etwixt my affection for my brother, which induces me to plead for him, and my regard to virtue, which foibids me to intercede for one guilty of such a crime; and I find the former more powerful than the latter. — Malone. Dr. Johnson unneces- sarily proposes to read, " Eor which I must noio plead, but yet I am at war, &c." Let it he his fault, and not my hrother. That is, let his fault be condemned or extirpated, but let not my brother himself suffer. — Malone. " To fine the faults, whose fine stands in record. To fine means, I think, to pronounce the fine or sentence of the law, appointed NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. 95 for certain crimes. Theobald, without necessity, reads The repetition is much in our author's manner. — Malone. Theobald's emendation may be justified by a passage in King Lear: — "All's not ofcncc that indiscretion fmds, and dotage terms so." — Steevens. The " recorded law" is mentioned in the present act. Look, loliat I will not, that I cannot do. Tills declaration of proud austerity implies — T have made my will subservient to my duty ; and my wisdom infallibly prescribing what my duty is, I can only will to do what is equitable and right. — Seymour. May call it hack again. The word bach was first inserted in the folio edition of 1632. Well, believe this. Well seems to be here merely a strong expletive. Theobald omits the comma, explaining it, — Be thoroughly assured of tliis; but the examples produced by that critic are not of a similar construction. Why, all the souls that ivere, icere forfeit once. All the souls that were, that is, all the souls that ever existed. Warburton proposed to read, that are. If He, iDhich is the top of judgment. " The Lord's house shall be established in the top of the mountains," Isaiah, ii. 2. The top of Sion, Judith, ix. The sentiment is scriptural; see Matthew, vii. 1, 2; Luke, vi. 37; Romans, ii. 1, 3; Galatians, vi. 1. Mr. Dyce has ob- served that the expression in the text occurs in the Sixth Canto of the Purgatorio, — che cima di giudicio non s'avvalla, &c. The changes which two centuries and a half have made in the subtle distinctions respecting the usages of words, the real meaning of which continue the same, is very curious. Thus the expression in the text would now be thought something too ignoble for the grandeur of the passage. Formerly top was continually used for the highest place or rank, in serious composition. " Considering, then, that the variable disposition of humane things is to be readie to fall when they are at the highest, and that vertue and vice are come to their top and perfection," Of the Interchangeable Course, or Variety of Things in the whole World, written in Prench by Loys le Roy, and translated into English by R. A., I59Ij. And of mercy there is no hope at all, except we do as we read of a woman, which, when she stood before Alexander the Great, and was condemned, she said, I appeal from thee, 0 King. Alexander, wondering at her, said. Thou art a mad woman : dost thou not know that every appellation is from a lower judge to a higher? but who is above me? Then said she, I know thee to be alwve thy laws, and that thou may give pardon, and therefore I appeal from justice to mercy, and for my faults desire pardon. — Bishop PilMngton. In old English, the term top was frequently apphed to the head. The top of judgment would therefore be simply, with this interpretation, the head of judgment. So in MS. Cantab. Ef. ii. 38, fol. 76,— But syr James had soche a chopp. That lie wyste not, be my to2)pe, Whethur hyt were day or nyght. If lie should but judge you as you are. But nowe to speake of the inestimable price and value of mercy. Lette gover- nours which knowe that thei have received their power from above, revolve in their 96 KOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. niyndes in what peryllc tLei llicim selfe bee in daiely, if in GodAverenot abundance of np.ercy, but that as soone as thci offendc him grevously, he should immediately strike them with his moste terrible darte of vengeaunce. All be it unneath any lioure ])asscth, that men deserve not some punishment. — Ehjot's Bohe named the Governor, 1531, ap.AVhite. Lil'e man new made. That is, literally, like a new man. Eeflect, says Isabella, on the event, were the Almighty to judge you as you are, without the pardon of a fault ; O, think of that, and mercy will proceed from your li])s, as from those of a regenerated soul — from one who, in the language of Scripture, has been " born again." Heath pro- ])erly explains it, — if you allow this consideration its due Aveight, you will find mercy breathing within your lips, as if a new man Avere formed Avithin you, so totally different Avill a our sentiments be from those Avliich have the ascendant over you at present, " 1 Avill put a new spirit within you," Ezekiel ; " and make you a neAv heart and a ncAv spirit," ibid. " Therefore, if any man be in Christ, let him be a ncAv creature," 2 Corinth., v. 17. " Pure as a ncAv baptized soule," Beaumont, ap.White. Like man neio made, that is, you Avill then appear as tender-hearted and merci- ful as the first man Avas in his days of innocence, immediately after his creation. — Malone. I incline to a different interpretation : — And you, Angelo, will breathe ncAv life into Claudio, as the Creator animated Adam, by breathing into his nostrils the breath of life. — Holt White. Hren for our Mtchens we Mil the foid of season. The fowl of season, that is, Avhen it is in season, not prematurely. A similar phrase occurs in the Merry AVives of Windsor (notes, vol. ii. p. 406). ^° The law hath not been dead, though it hath slept. Holt "White refers to the maxim of law, — " dormiunt aliquando leges, moriun- tur nunquam." If the first that did the edict infringe. Pope reads, ^rs^f man; and TyrAvhitt, if he, but the original text is quite in con- sonance Avitli the license of Shakespeare's construction and metre. Mr. Knight justlv observes that the " necessary retardation of the original adds to the force of the line." ^- Jnd, lihe a prophet, tool's in a glass. See further, on the subject of prophesying glasses, in the notes to the fourth act of Macbeth. But, ichere they live, to end. That is, evils are now from this time forward not to be permitted to increase by degrees from one vice to another, but Avherever they are conceived, they are to be at once suppressed. Tlie old copy reads here for ichere, a common misprint ; and Hanmer suggested ere. " But there to end, AAdiere he was to begin," Coriolanus. "And where I did begin, there shall I end,"Julius Caesar. °* For then I pity those I do not hioic. This, observes Dr. Johnson, Avas one of Hale's memorials, — " When I find myself sAvayed to mercy, let me remember tliat there is a mercy likeAvise due to the country." ''^ But it is tyrannous to use it lihe a giant. The observation by Steevens, that Isabella here alludes to the savage conduct NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. 97 of giants in ancient romances, appears at first sight to be trivial ; but, without some such explanation, the passage in the text is without point. Tlie allusion is clearly to the tyrannical use of giant power generally attributed to all giants. Could great men thunder as Jove himself does. This fine sentiment, observes Douce, which nevertheless contains a very obvious fault in the mode of expressing it, appears to have been suggested by the following lines in Ovid's Tristia, lib. ii., a poem that Shakespeare might have read in Church- yard's translation : — Si quoties peccant homines sua fulmina mittat Jupiter, exiguo tempore inermis erit. So oftentimes as mortall men in sinfull faultes be found. If Jove should strike, he might in time lacke shot wherewith to wound. The Three First Boohes of Ovid's de Tristihus, &c., Lond. 1578. ^'^ For every pelting, petty officer. Pelting, that is, paltry. See notes to A Midsummer Night's Dream. Split' st the unwedgeable and gnarled oak. Gnarled, knotty. Knorre, nodus, Teut. " Nodus, a knotte, a knourle, a joint," Eliot's Cooper, 1581i. Chaucer has Imarrij, ftdl of knots, — Wyth knotty knarry barrein treys old, Of stubbis sharpe, and hideous to behold. Kennett, in his MS. Glossary, has, " to knur or knor, to play at knur or knor, a game among the boys in Yorkshire with a little round chees-ball, which they call a knur, struck from one to another with little bandy sticks call'd knur-sticks or knurl-sticks, from hnor, a not in a tree," MS. Lansd. 1033. " Knottyshe, knorisslie, or full of knottes," Palsgrave, 1530. "A gnarre or gnurre, a hard knot in wood," Minsheu. ''Kodo, a knot or a knob, a knurre," Elorio's Worlde of Wordes, 1598. ''Neud, a knot, a knob or hard bunch, a joynt in staulkes, a knarre or knurle in trees," Cotgrave. Use men like wedges, one strike out another, Till by degrees the tough and hmirly trunke Be riv'd in sunder. — Antonio's Revenge, 1602. There is much affinity, observes the late Mr. Douce, between the above lines and these in Persius, Sat. ii. : Ignovisse putas, quia, cum tonat, ocyus ilex Sulfure discutitur sacro, quam tuque domusque ? But man, proud man ! This is the reading of the first folio. " 0 But man ! proud man !," ed. 1632, repeated in eds. 1664, 168i. The alteration appears to have been made with the idea of amendino: the metre. CO His glassy essence. A similar image occurs in a rare poem, the Crucifixe, or a Meditation upon Bepentance, by C. Lever, 4to. 1607, — 0 you that guU the poys'ned cup of pleasure. And spend your time in nothing but expending. You in whose lap, if lust let fall his treasure. You entertaine vile shame with much commending, And thinke your glassie lives shall ne're have ending, in. 13 98 NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. "1 yl As make the angels ireep. The notion of angels weeping for tlie sins of men is Kabbinical. " Ob peccatum flentes angelos inducunt Hebraeorum mauistri." — Grotius ad S. Lticam, ap. Theobald, ed. 1733, i. 338. iroiild all tJiemselres langli mortal. The construction is obscure, but the meaning seems to be simply this. ^lan plan's such fantastic tricks in tlie sight of Heaven, that make the angels weej) ; but were the angels endued with our spleens (passions, humours), they would, being entirely mortal, laugh instead of weeping. Theobald explains it — if the angels were endoMed with our spleens and perishable organs, they would laugh themseh'es out of immortality. Another explanation is, — Angelic spnits weep over those errors or delinquencies which weak unfeeling mortals turn into ridicule. In needy sequences, perhaps, our heart will in itselfe take truce with this niischaunce, or if it doe not, yet attend our spleeue, it wil be better for ye. — The History of the tico Maids of More-clacl-e, 1609. He's coming, I perceive'' t. If they see but a fair maid laugh, or shew a pleasant countenance, use some gratious words or gestures, they apply it all to themselves as done in their favour ; sm-e she loves them, she is willing, coming, &c. — Burton s Anatomij of Jlelancholg, ed. 1G52. 6i We cannot weigh our brother with onrself That is, it is not in human nature for us to judge our fellow creatures by the cliaracter of our own actions. "Warburton altered onrself to yourself, but the original text is confirmed, as Maloue observes, by a passage in the fifth act, — " If he had so offended, he would have weigh'd thy brother by himself, and not have cut hiui off." Great men may jest with saints. The mighty, who can with such sinnes dispence. In steede of shame do honors great bestow: A worthy author doth redeeme th' offence. And makes the scarlet sinne as white as snow: The majesty that doth descend so low Is not defilde, but pure remaines therein. And being sacred sanctifies the sinne. Daniefs Comptlaint of Rosamond, ed, IGOl. And 'tis such sense, that my sense breeds with it. That is, in other words, her eloquence is so great, her address so noble, my sense (passion) increases in proportion as I admire it. Sense is used in other places in this drama in exactly the same signification. Some would interpret breed Kith in the North country sense, to resemble, to be of the same accord. Davenant alters the text thus, — " She speaks such sense as with my reason breeds such images, as she has excellently form'd," Law against Lovers, 1G73, p. 287. Warburton would persuade us that bleeds is 'a very sensible word,' but, which is the reading of the first folio, hath no meaning in it. The very contrary of this appears to me to be the truth. It is plain from the context and the whole progress of the play, that Isabella had moved no compassion in the breast of Augelo, which indeed might have been properly expressed by the word, bleeds: but she had excited lust there, which was even then teeming with new conceptions and designs, as is properly hinted by the word breeds.— Heath. The word breeds NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. 09 is used in the Tempest, in nearly the same sense as here : — " Fair encounter of two most rare affections ! — Heavens rain grace on that which breeds between them!"— Jf^^/o7^^. The sentence signifies, Isabella does not utter words, but speaks such sense as breeds or pi-oduccs a conseqiience in Angelo's mind. Truths which generate no conclusion are often termed harren facts. — Holt White. I understand the passage thus : — Her arguments are enforced with so much good sense, as to increase that stock of sense which I already possess. — Douce. Not tcith fond shekels of the tested gold. Shekels is spelt sickles in tlie first folio. This is merely the old form of the word, which is spelt side and sgcle in Coverdale's Bible, and side in the old MSS. of WickliflPe. ''Siglus, a side, being an olde Persian coyne, and seemeth to be nine-pense in value of our monie," Nomenclator, 1585. " Here in Athens the father hath suffred his sonne to bee hanged for forty sickles, and hee worth four hundred talents," Lodge's Catharos, 1591, quoted by Collier. The specimen of the Jewish shekel, here engraved, is selected from Mr. Akerman's Numismatic Illustrations of the New Testament. A Bekangh shekel, dimidius sicli, an half shekel ; it was worth in our money one shilling three pence : it was, for distinction of the Shekel, called the common shekel, and weighed a quarter of an ounce, in gold 15s. A shekel, or side of the Sanctuary ; it contained precisely half an ounce of silver or gold. This was called Keseph, or Silgha ; which to distinguish it from the Kings Shekel, upon the one side was to be seen the measure or pot wherein they kept manna in the Sanctuary, with this superscription, Tlie Side of Israel; and on the other side the llod of Aaron flourishing, with this inscription. Holy Jerusalem ; it is worth in oar money two shillings six pence, and in gold 30 shillings : but after the coming of our Saviour, the converted Jews changed their shekel, and on the first side stamped the image of Christ, with the Hebrew letters Jod and Schin at the mouth of the image, and the letter Vau in the pole, which three letters made his name Jesu. On the reverse side there was no picture, but the whole rundle was filled with this inscription in Hebrew characters, which in English was thus, Messias the King Cometh with Peace, and the Light of Man is made Life ; but in some coins for the latter clause of that inscription is read, God is made Man. The Kings shekel was less than the Shekel of the Sanctuary; it was worth in English money, one shilling ten pence halfpenny; in gold, 22 shillings six pence ; yet Holyoake, in his Dictionary, values it to no more than the half of the side of the Sanctuary, viz. one shilling three pence ; this must be the common side. — Holme s Academy of Armory, 1688. That so I might have given thee, for thy paines, Tenne silver sickles and a golden wast. The Love of King David and Fair Bethsahe, 1599. Fond, foolish, trifling, insignificant. According to Steevens, the term here means, valued or prized by foUy. Tested, attested, proved to be pure. So Lydgate, MS. Soc. Antiq. 134, fol. 7,— As golde in fyre is fynid by assay, And at the teest sylver is depurid. Prayers from preserved souls. The nuns are so called, their souls being aptly said to be preserved from the 100 NOTES TO TEE SECOND ACT. temptations of tlic world. AVarburton fancifully thought the metaphor was taken from preserved fruits. The passage quoted by Steevens from the Amorous AYarre, 1648, p. 52, does not appear very applicable, but the expression apphed to the ladies being the same, and somewhat i)eculiar, it may just be worth giving, — "You do not reckon us 'mongst marmalade, quinces, and apricots, or take us for ladies preserved?" Callias rather prettily answers, — "No, ladies; yet I hope 'tis no offence to say y' are each of you a various banquet, where a breathing sweetnesse feasts the spectatours, and diverts all thought of eating to beholding." Where prayers cross. Angelo apparently means to say, — Amen to your prayer that I may be safe, for I am in that road of temptation, where my own prayers are of no avail, or are counteracted. Tlie devil could not cross a prayer after the Amen was said. "Let me say Amen betimes, lest the devil cross my prayer," Merchant of Yenice. Dr. Johnson proposed to read, — irhich your prayers cross. The petition of the Lord's Prayer — " lead us not into temptation" — is here considered as crossing or intercepting the onward way in which Angelo was going ; this appointment of his for the morrow's meeting, being a premeditated exposure of himself to temptation, which it was the general object of prayer to thwart. — Henley. Where my honour and my cupidity arc at variance, M'here my solicita- tions or prayers to obtain possession of Isabella's beauties, must be crossed or thwarted by this prayer of her's, for the safety of my honour. — Seymour. Do, as the carrion does, not as the flower. I am not corrupted by her, but by my own heart, which excites foul desires under the same benign influences that exalt her purity, as the carrion grows putrid by those beams which increase the fragrance of the violet. — Johnson. Can it he that modesty may more Ijetray our sense. Compare the Unes in Promos and Cassandra, commencing, — " I do protest her modest wordes hath wrought in me a maze." '''^ And pitch our evils there. The metaphor is in allusion to the desecration of the temple by the erection of foric(e (2 Kings, x. 27). There is a similar use of the word in the second act of Henry AXIL, — "Nor build their evils on the graves of great men," a passage which is sufficient to condemn the proposed conjecture of offals'm the Perkins MS. Adhering to the original text, although there cannot be much doubt of the gross though forcible metaphor that was in the author's mind, yet, having regard to the use of evils as vices just previously, it is natural to conclude that at least the double meaning of the term was referred to, the whole passage being emblematical : — Having spare ground enough (alluding to hght women), why desire to invade the sanctuary of purity with our evil actions? One of Sir John Birkenhead's queries confirms the above use of the word : — " Whether, ever since the House of Commons has been locked up, the Speaker's chair has not been a close-stool ? Whether it is not seasonable to stop the nose of my evil?'' — Tico Centuries of PauVs Church-Yard, 8vo. no date. — Malone. 0 cunning Enemy. Enemy, says Douce, is here used for the devil. '* IsmiVd, and wonder' d how . As a day must now intervene between this conference of Isabella with Angelo, and the next, the act might more properly end here ; and here, in my opinion, it was ended by the poet. — Johnson. NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. 101 The afflicted spirits here in the prison. " By the which he also went, and preached unto the spirits that are in prison," 1 Peter, iii. 19. Who falling in the flames of her oion youth. The old copies Tedidt, falling in the flawes, the last word being spelt flaics in the third and fourth fohos, but there can be little doubt that flames is the correct read- ing. The letters m and lo are very often misprinted for each other in old English plays. Davenant, in 1673, has the passage as follows : — " who in her flames of youth has blister'd her fair fame." To fall in, to fall into, the phraseology of tlie time. " Though a man have ben never so synfull, yet let hym nat fall in dispayre," Palsgrave, 1530. "1 am fallen in this ofFence," Cymbeline. Shakespeare has flaming youth in Hamlet; and Greene, in his Never Too Late, IGIG, says, — " lie measured the flames of youth by his own dead cinders." — Steerens. Blister'd her report, i. e., disfigured her fame. — Idem. Mr. Knight retains^c/?^^, storms, gusts, on the plea that Shakespeare, " in the superabundance of his thought, makes one metaphor run into another." It is true that the change of metaphor is not a sufiicient reason for the alteration ; but the phrase, to fall into flaws, is in itself scarcely admissible. Mr. Knight's observation is, however, in the main, correct ; and perhaps no author has indulged in a more licentious and vague use of meta- phors than Shakespeare, so that any emendations made with the object of correcting them must generally be received with the utmost caution. It is curious to observe that the dramatist, in some instances, involuntarily makes use of a metaphorical expression that has no relation whatever to the context. Thus in the Tempest,- — " the strongest oaths are straw to the flre i the blood," the literal meaning of which would be unsuited to the speaker's intention. Prospero evidently means to say that the strongest oaths are as brittle as str.iw compared to, or placed in com- petition witli, the fire in the blood. Tis true, fair Celia, that by thee I live ; That every kiss and every fond embrace Forms a new soul within me, and doth give A balsam to the wound made by thy face. Yet still methinks I miss — that bliss — Which lovers dare not name ; And only then described is, When flame doth meet with flame. Cotgraves Wits Interpreter, 8vo. Lond. 1671, p. 164. I have provided for you. The Provost, addressing Juliet, means that he has secured her accommodation for her accouchement. "'^ But lest you do repent. Thus the old copy. The modern editors, led by Pope, read : " But repent you not." But lest you do repent is only a kind of negative imperative — Ne te ponniteat, — and means, repent not on this account. — Steerens. I think that a line at least is wanting after the first of the Duke's speech. It would be pre- sumptuous to attempt to replace the words ; but the sense, I am persuaded, is easily recoverable out of Juliet's answer. I suppose his advice, in substance, to have been nearly this : " Take care, lest you repent (not so much of your fault, as it is an evil,) as that the sin hath brought you to this shamed Accordingly, Juliet's answer is explicit to this point : " I do repent me, as it is an evil, and take the shame with joy." — Tyrwhitt. Because the orthography of the first folio 102 NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. is least, that word is literally ado])te(l by Mr. Collier ; but lest is almost always s])elt least in old English books, and another exani})le occurs in the next act. Showing we'd not spare Heaven, as ice lore it. That is, showing we would not scruple to offend Heaven, because Me love Heaven, but only in proportion as we are afraid of its decrees. The Perkins MS. reads serve for spare, and the latter word was changed by Pope into seek, both alterations being unnecessary, and, indeed, somewhat at variance with the context, for the Duke is not speaking of serving, but of offending. Heaven. In Davenant's Law against Lovers, the Duke's speech appears as follows : If, daughter, you repent that sin, because It brings you shame, it is a common and An erring grief, which looks more at ourselves, Than towards Heaven ; not sparing Heaven for love. But ienY.— Trorl's, ed. 1G73, p. 288. The elliptical use of the verb spare is stiU in common use, generally, but not always, preceded by a noun implying injury or destruction. " The rough seas, that spare not any man," that is, spare not to injure any man, Pericles, act ii. «° There rest. That is, keep yourself in this temper. — Johnson. Grace go with you ! Eitson imagines that this should be spoken by Juliet, the Duke answering, Benedicite ! Steevens adopts this regulation, reading, " 3Iay grace go with you." There is no necessity for altering the original, and, moreover, the observation is scarcely of that humble character which would pervade any such speech addressed by Juliet to the assumed friar. ^~ 0, injurious love. Love here, as in other instances, is merely used in the sense of kindness. " Injurious love" is nearly equivalent to the very common phrase, mistaken kindness. 0, injurious kindness, which spares my life, a burden to me worse than death, whose very comfort in the love of Claudio is still a dying horror. 'Tis pity of him, that is, of Angelo, that he should be so severe. Hanmer proposed to read, injurious law. JJliilst my invention, hearing not my tongue. Invention, that is, imagination. " The brightest heaven of invention," Henry V. " To invent, to imagine," Baret, 1580. Warburton proposed to read intention. Compare with this speech the soliloquy in Promos and Cassandra, commencing, — " Do what I can, no reason cooles desire." ^* Grown seared and tedious. Seard, dry, withered, here used metaphorically. " Some beauty peep'd through lattice of sear'd age," Lover's Complaint. The folios generally read feard, the meaning of which would be, as explained by Johnson — " what we go to with reluctance may be said to be feared." According to Mr. Collier, a copy of the first folio, in the possession of Lord EUesmere, reads seard. The ground, undect with natures tapestrie, Seemes barrayne, sere, unfertill, fructles, dry. The Raigne of King Hdward the Third, 159G. NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. 103 The divill is witnesse with me when I seald it, And cauteriz'd this conscience now seard up. The Bivils Charter, a Tragoedie, 1607. Which the air heats for vain. That is, vainly, in vain, to no purpose. Some would read for vane, which tlie air beats about as a weathercock. 80 Wrench awe from fools, and tie the %mser souls. Here Shakespeare judiciously distinguishes the different operations of high place upon different minds. Eools are frighted, and wise men are allured. Those who cannot judge but by the eye, are easily awed by splendour ; those wlio consider men as well as conditions, are easily persuaded to love the appearance of virtue dignified with power. — Johnson. Blood, thou art hlood. Pope reads, " thou art hut blood ;" and Malone, " thou still art blood." The original is more forcible, although either of the proposed emendations are more consonant to modern ears. Blood is used for passion, temperament of body. " We see in it, as it is," observes Capell, "a charge brought by the speaker against himself, or his hlood, and the evil spirit acquitted by him of having any hand in his sin's occasion ; the sense of his expressions, and their connection too with what has preceded, may appear in this paraphrase : — Blood, thou art blood as well in me as in others ; place, and outward appearance, have no allaying effect on thy inflam- mable quality: no more then of giving horns to the devil, or of calling him — bad angel, and man's leader into sins of this sort ; his blood is his leader ; and the horn his own crest, and not the devil's, and to be born by him in signal of what he is — his own tempter : — Horns being an instrument of mischief in animals, the devil is made to wear them by fabulists as a spirit of mischief." ^Tis not the deviVs crest. The meaning of this and the previous line is this : — If we place the figure of an angel on, or in place of, the devil's horn, it will nevertheless not be the devil's crest ; the mere alteration of the emblem will not change his nature, and give him a right to the new distinction. In other words, mere outward appearance is no criterion of the character of the heart. There was formerly a somewhat peculiar use of the verb to icrite, e. g., — "As soone as he came to write full and perfit man," Markham's Honour in his Perfection, 1G24. " James, your man, writes on your pillow, &c. ; my eies are witnesses to their adulterie," History of the Two Maids of More-clacke, 1609. Hanmer proposes to read, "Is'tnot the devil's crest?," and Dr. Johnson, ' Tis yet the devil's crest, both in mis-apprehension of the meaning- intended. Warburton explains the passage thus, — Let the most wicked thing have but a virtuous pretence, and it shall pass for innocent; but even if the reader inclines to this interpretation, the original text may stand, and be literally inter- preted,— If we put an angel in the place of the horn, the latter is no longer the devil's crest. The first interpretation seems to be countenanced by a passage in Macbeth, — Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace, yet grace must still look so ; and again in All's Well that ends Well, — good alone is good, without a name : vileness is so : the property by what it is should go, not by the title. Wee would hold it to be no faithfull part of a subject, to make choice of no liverie but his, who is a profest foe to his soveraigne. And what, I pray you, doe wee, when wee attire our selves in the habiliments of Pride ; not only outwardly in gorgeous apparell, choicest perfumes, and powdred locks, but likewise inwardly, in 101 NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. putting" on the spirit of Pride, attended by scornfLdl respects, disdainfidl eyes, and hauii-htie lookes ? Can wee be truly termed subjects ? May wee, wearing- the Devil's crest, partake of the seanilesse coat of Christ ? May wee expect a crownc after death, that oj)pose him who wore a thorny crowne, to crowne us after death ? No ; as the souldier is known by his colours, the servant by his cognizance, the slieepe by his marke, and coine by the stampe ; so shall wee be knoxMie b}- our colours if wee be Christs souldiers, by our crest or cognizance if his followers, by our marke if his sheepe and lambkins, by our stampe or superscription if his coine or starling. O know, by how much wee are the humbler, by so much to our be- loved are wee the liker I Let us r<.'semble him then in all humilitie, that afterwards wee may reign e Avith him in glory. — BratJitraifs Enylish Gentleman, 1630. This passage, as it stands, appears to me to be right, and xingelo's reasoning to be this : " O place ! O form ! though you wrench awe from fools, and tie e\ en wiser souls to yom* false seeming, yet you make no alteration in the minds or constitutions of those Avho possess, or assume you. Though we should write good angel on the devil's horn, it will not change his nature, so as to give him a right to wear tliat crest." It is well known that the crest was formerly chosen either as emblematical of some quality conspicuous in the person \\'ho bore it, or as alluding to some remarkable incident of his life ; and on this circumstance depends the justness of the present allusion. My explanation of these words is confirmed by a passage in Lyly's Midas, — "Melancholy ! is melancholy a word for a barber's mouth ? Tliou shouldst say, heavy, dull, and doltish : melancholy is tlie crest of courtiers." — M. Mason. Why does my Mood thus muster to my heart ? Both hope and dreade at once my harte doth tuch. — Prom. Cassand. So play the foolish throngs icith one that swounds. This, and tlie next two lines, are supposed by Malone to be imitated or paraphrased by AVilliam Barksted, in his Myrrha, the Mother of Adonis, 1607: — And, like as when some sudden extasie Seizeth the nature of a sicklie man ; When he's discern'd to swoune, straite by and by Eolke to his helpe confusedly have ran. And seeking with their art to fetch him backe. So many throng that he the ayre doth lacke. Swounds, that is, swoons ; the old word, which should not be altered. Mr. Knight prints s/'-oons liere, and yet retains sirounded in Titus Andronicus, v. 1. It is extremely difficult for an editor to be consistent in all these minutije, modern critics having corrected the text so capriciously. The general, subject to a Kell-insKd king. The later editions have, subjects; but the old copies read: "The general subject to a well-wish'd king. — " The general subject seems a harsh expression, but general subjects has no sense at all, and general was, in our author's time, a M ord for people ; so that the general is the people, or multitude, subject to a king-. So, in Hamlet : — " The play pleased not the million : 'twas caviare to the general.'" — Johnson. Malone observes that the use of this phrase, the general for the peopjle, continued so late as to the time of Lord Clarendon : " as rather to be consented to, than that the general should suffer," — Hist. b. v. 1 therefore adhere to the old reading, with only a slight change in the punctuation : — " The general, subject to a well-wish'd king, &c.," i. e., the generality who are subjects, &^c. Twice in Hamlet our author uses subject for subjects : " So nightly toils the NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. 105 subject of the land." Again, — " The lists and full proportions, all are made out of his suhjectr — The general subject, however, may mean the subjects in general. So, in As You Like It, — " Wouldst thou disgorge into the general world." — Steevens. As to remit their saucy sweetness. "Friand, saucie, lickorous, daintie-mouthed, sweet-toothed," Cotgrave. Sweet- ness has, in this passage, a wanton meaning. Sweetnes finallie (in some measure to sweeten and abate the tediousnesse of this long chapter) makes the limmes hang loose, flagging, and languishing, yet not altogether without vigor, but as it were without spirit and sense, &c. — Lomatius on Painting, by Haydoch, 1598. That do coin heaverCs image, in stamps that are forbid. He that doth clip or counterfeit your stamp. Shall die, my Lord ; and will your sacred selfe Comit high treason against the King of Heaven, To stamp his image in forbidden mettel. TJie Baigne of King Edward the Third, 1596. "Tis all as easy. Either there is here au ellipsis of the former part of the speech, joined to a very loose kind of construction, Angelo meaning to^ say, — it is quite as easy to pardon one who takes away a life true made, as to forgive one who puts mettle &c. ; or, the ordinary meaning of easy cannot be admitted. " These faults are easy," easy of forgiveness, allowable, Henry VI. If easy can be construed alloivable, the text is readily explained. It seems an absurdity to make Angelo say that the crime of murder is as easily committed as that of adultery, and such an interpreta- tion is at variance with the context. Falsely to take away a life true made. Falsely is the same with dishonestly, illegally; so false, in the next line but one, is illegal, illegitimate. — Dr. Johnson. As to put mettle in restrained means. Metal was formerly often spelt mettle, as in two instances in Lever's Crucifixe, IG07, — "not form'd in mettle, or with curious paint. . . nor mettle, paint, nor wood." The latter orthography is now only used when the metaphorical meaning of the word is intended, which is clearly the case in the present instance, although Dr. Johnson considers that the metaphor is continued, to put metal in forbidden moulds, and Steevens suggests to read, in restrained mints. The text here adopted seems to be confirmed by a similar expression in Timon of Athens, — " who in spite put stuff to some she-beggar, and compounded thee, poor rogue hereditary." Malone once suggested to read, restrained moulds. " That mettle, that self-same mould that fashioned thee," Richard II. Metal and mettle are used indis- tinguishably in the early folios. Means is here used for medium, or object ; and the sense of the whole is this : ' 'Tis as easy wickedly to deprive a man born in wedlock of life, as to have unlawful commerce with a maid, in order to give life to an illegitimate child.' The thought is simply, that murder is as easy as fornication ; and the inference which Angelo would draw, is, that it is as improper to pardon the latter as the former. The words — to make a false one — evidently referring to life, show that the preceding line is to be understood in a natural, and not in a metaphorical sense. — Malone. Howbeit, from the teeth downward as base a mettled coward as ever was coyn'd out of the sooty side of a copper kettle. — The Bivils Charter, 1607. III. 14 lOG NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. ' Tis set down so in heaven, hut not in earth. Murder and adultery are equally criminal in the religious law, but the latter is considered by mortals a sin of inferior moment. Ey the Levitical law, they were 1)oth punishable by death. " Some sins do bear their privilege on earth, and so doth yours," King- John. Dr. Johnson proposed to transpose the words heaven and earth in the passage in the text. Or, to redeem him. The first folio reads, and to redeem him. The correction was made by Sir William Davenant in 1G73. It is just possible the original is another example of the hcentious use of the word and, noticed at p. 35. / had rather give my Ijody than my soul. Isabella does not understand the drift of Angelo's last speech, and therefore merely answers generally that she would rather die than imperil her hopes of eternal happiness ; or, more literally, she would rather forfeit her body for her brother, than endanger her soul. She is now being completely mystified by the course of argument which is pursued by Angelo. I can scarcely tliink, with Douce, that " it is Isabella's purpose to give an evasive or ambiguous answer to Angelo's strange question." Stand more for number than for accompt. Involuntary sins, crimes committed in spite of our own will, or to which we are compelled without our own sanction or knowledge, are so trifiing in the sight of Heaven, that they add to the number indeed of our faults, without materially increasing our liability. The idea is probably borrowed from the following lines in Promos and Cassandra, — Justice will say thou dost no crime commit, Eor in forc'd faults is no intent of ill. Fleas' d you to do't, at peril of your soul. The reasoning is thus : Angelo asks, whether there might "not be a charity in sin to save this brotlier." Isabella answers, that " if Angelo will save him, slie will stake her soul that it were charity, not sin." Angelo re])lies, that if Isabella would " save him at tlie hazard of her soul, it would be not indeed no sin, but a sin to Avhich the charity would be equivalent." — Johnson. And nothing of your ansicer. A harsh elliptical construction, meaning apparently, — and nothing of those sins for which you have to answer. Dr. Johnson proposes, — And notliing of yours, answer ; that is, you, and whatever is yours, be exempt from ^^enalty. Tyrwhitt places a comma after your, and considers that the substantive answer may be understood to be joined in construction with mine as well as your. Or seem so, crafty. Davenant alters crafty to craftily, but this seems merely a modernization, the adjective frequently being used for the adverb by Elizabethan writers. As these Mack masks. Alluding, as previously observed (p. 19), to the masks of the audience, unless it be tliought tliat the phrase is idiomatic, and that these has no particular application. Thus, in Henry IV., " these vile guns," where the pronoun is ])erhaps redundant, or rather put for the article ; and Davenant reads, " as a black mask often proclaims a cover'd beauty more, than beauty does itself, when openly NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. 107 displaid." Allusions, however, to the masks of the audience were not unusual. See an instance in the conclusion of the Beggar's Bush, Beaumont and Eletcher, ed. Dyce, ix. IOJh ; and a notice of black masks in the first act of Bomeo and Juliet. The fact of Measure for Measure having been performed at Court, countenances the supposition, first sug- gested by Tyrwhitt,that the masks of the specta- tors are here alluded to. With respect to the mask itself, see observations upon it in vol. ii. pp. 15G-7. Even children wore masks. In some MS. accounts, dated 1603, is the following entry — " Eor a maske for the childe, 00. 01. 00." The annexed very interesting engraving is selected by Mr. Eairholt from a woodcut in one of the Boxburghe ballads of the seven- teeth century, here copied on a reduced scale. It represents a mercer in his shop, addressing liis customers, — " Here be your new fashions, mistris ;" and, in his right hand, he holds a black mask edged with lace. Early engravings of this description are of the greatest degree of rarity. 105 p^^Qoidi^^i ensliield heauty. An enshield beauty, observes Steevens, is a shielded beauty, a beauty covered or protected as with a shield. Tyrwhitt suggested to read ensheWd, or hi-slielVd. See Coriolanus. ^'^'^ Accountant to the taio upon that pain. " That is, his offence is of such a nature as to render him accountable for it in a court of judicature ; or, is such as subjects him to a trial at law. Eor accountant (which in strict andhteral propriety, is used of persons) being here used of a thing — the offence committed," Spec. Diet. A. Pain, penalty, punishment. As I suhscrihe not that. Subscribe, agree to; a common meaning of the word, but now nearly obsolete. Steevens refers to the old play of Lust's Dominion, incorrectly ascribed to Marlowe, — " Subscribe to his desires," So, in the History of the Two Maids of More-clacke, 1G09, — "she knowes me, and this constant accident subscribes to't." But in the loss of question. Question is here, as elsewhere, used in the sense of conversation. Question, to converse, occurs in the Merchant of Venice, the Bape of Lucrece, &c. Loss of question, that is, idleness of conversation. Loss of time, a common and similar phrase, occurs in a corresponding passage in Coriolanus, act iii, and is equivalent to waste or useless application of time. Angelo observes, I merely mention this, or any other similar suggestion, by way of supposition, as a matter of idle conver- sation. Dr. Johnson proposes to read toss, and the Perkins MS. notes have/orcc, instead of loss, but surely no alteration is necessary. Heath suggested, list of question ; and Mr. Singer possesses a copy of the second folio in which losse is altered to loose. ''Loss, simulatio, dolus, a fiction by way of supposition ; loss vel los, callidus, dolosus ; vid. Junium et Lye in leasing et losingeours. Admit no other way to save his life, as I subscribe (that is, prescribe or insist upon) not that, nor any other, but in the loss of question, that is, byway of fiction, or putting a case which ma}- have no reality, or by way of trial in order to puzzle you ; not with any real 108 NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. intention of taking any advantage of your answer; not as a real proposal, but by way of question," MS. Glossary, the writer of which accepts the ordinary meaning of question, in which case the meaning would rather be, — in the way of idle supposition. "But, beyond all reasonable doubt, Shakspeare meant, by 'loss of question,' the casus qucestionis of the logicians. Isabella is the respondent, who maintains the qucBstio ; Angelo the opponent, by whose reasoning the ' qucestio cadit ; consequently the latter declares that his hypothetical case has for its sole object ' the loss of question :' that is, the refutation of the arguments urged by Isabella in favour of a remission of her brother's condemnation." — A. E. B. 109 ;p,^Q^^i iJiQ manacles of the all-building law. Theobald, and most editors, read all-binding, but the metaphorical application of the verb to build, to grow or increase as a building does, is probably what was intended by Shakespeare. So, in the Comedy of Errors, — " shall love, in building, grow so ruinous?" — where building stands in the sense oi growing. Piatt uses the phrase, "a building word," in the sense of, a word or promise causing him to build or work. In short, building is used in any signification implying increase or active growth. The aU-building law is, therefore, the ever active, the ever growing law, a law which is never completed or built, but which is always throwing out new efforts, which is ever building. The following interesting remarks on the passage in the text are extracted from a paper on the subject in a recent periodical: — "The word building always been a stumbling-block to editors. Johnson first proposed to read binding, and his successors have adopted it, and such is now the generally received reading. Mr. Collier's old corrector is also in favour of the same change. I have always felt convinced, however, that building was the word which Shakespeare wrote. That which answers to it in the A.-S. is bijtUng, bijtleing, a building; bytlian, to build; which are inflected from byth, biotul, a hammer or mallet (whence our beetle) ; so that the strict meaning of the verb is firniare, confwmare, to fasten, close, or bind together. This will give much the same meaning to building as that implied in the proposed substitute, binding. Not having met with the word used in this peculiar sense by any old wi'iter, I could not venture to maintain the reading of the folio on these grounds, which I have just mentioned, alone. At length, however, I have been successful, and I am now able to quote a passage from a work published very shortly before this play, entitled : — The Jewell House of Art and Nature, faithfully and familiarly set downe according to the Author's owne experience, by Hugh Platte, of Lincolnes Inne, gentleman ; London, 159^^ — in which this word building is used in precisely the same sense as that which I defend. In ' the Preface of the Author,' the following passage occurs : — ' I made a condicionall promise of some farther discoverie in arteficiall conceipts, then either my health or leisure would then permit : I am now resolved (notwitlistanding the unkind acceptation of my first fruits, which then I feared and hath since falne out, is a sufficient release in law of the condition) to make the same in some sort absolute (though not altogether according to the fulnesse of my first purpose), and to become a building word unto me.' I apprehend that this parallel instance is all that is wanting to preserve, for the future, the reading of the first folio unimpaired." — " The all-holding law," Grey's Notes, vol. i. p. 115. This reading seems to have been first suggested by Rowe in 1709. The all-building law, observes Mr. Keightley, " means the law that builds, maintains, and repairs the whole social edifice, and is well suited to Angelo, whose object Avas to enhance the favour he proposed to grant." NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. 109 ™ Or else to let him suffer. To is redundant. See examples in vol. i. p. 274. That longing have heen sick for. So the four folios, generally printed / have, and so altered in Mr. AVlieler's annotated third folio. The suppression of the personal pronoun is so very common, there cannot be a doubt of the correctness of the old reading. Better it were, a brother died at once. Dr. Johnson proposed to read /or once, which would imply that we could die more than once. To die at once, means to die without any more ado, or to die with a stroke. — White. Ignomy in ransom, and free pardon. Ignomy was frequently written for ignominy, as in Troilus and Cressida, Henry IV., &c. "Bewitch'd with scandalous ignomy," Lord Cromwell. The second folio reads ignominy in the line in the text. Oh, wherefore staine you vertue and renowne With such foule tearmes of ignomy and shame ? The WeaJcest Qoeth to the Wall, 4to. Lond. 1618. Sir William Davenant's alteration of these lines, observes Malone, may prove a reasonably good comment on them : Ignoble ransom no proportion bears To pardon freely given. If not a foedary, hut only he. The old copy has fedarie, but the meaning and etymology appear to be clearly indicated by the repetition of the word in Cymbeline, where it is spelt " foedarie " in ed. 1633. It is, in all probability, a Latinism (from fadus), and is synonymous with federary in the Winter's Tale, an accomplice, a confederate. The old law term feodary (which is substituted in ed. 1632) is a different word, and is altogether unsuited to the context of the present passage, which may thus be explained — if, indeed, we are not all frail, let my brother die, if he have no confederate, if he only of all men possesses and follows your weakness, the criminal course you are now pursuing. This is on the supposition that Isabella now comprehends the tendency of Angelo's ambiguous discourse. Eor thy, in the next line, Eowe substituted by, and Malone suggests we may read this. The passage is so difficult, that, although I am convinced feodary is not meant, the following notes may be worth extracting. This is so obscure, but the allusion so fine, that it deserves to be explained. A feodary was one that in the times of vassalage held lands of the chief lord, under the tenure of paying rent and service : which tenures were called feuda amongst the Goths. "Now," says Angelo, "we are all frail;" — "Yes," replies Isabella; " if all mankind were not feodaries, who owe what they are to this tenure of imbecility, and who succeed each other by the same tenure, as well as my brother, I would give him up." The comparing mankind, Ipng under the weight of original sin, to feodary, who owes suit and service to his lord, is, I think, not ill imagined. — Warburton. Again, in the Prologue to Marston's Sophonisba, 1606 : " For seventeen kings were Carthage foedarsT M. Mason censures me for not perceiving feodary signifies an accomplice. Of this I was fully aware, as it supports the sense contended for by Warburton, and seemingly acquiesced in by Dr. Johnson. — Every vassal was an accomplice with his lord ; that is, was subject 110 NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. to be executor of the miscliief lie did not contrive, and was obliged to follow in every bad cause which liis superior led. — Steevens. As the glasses icliere they view themselves. " I know the rest of women may be frail, brittle as glasses, but my Evadne stands a rock of Parian marble, firm and pure," Randolph's Jealous Lovers, 1646. Men their creation mar in 'profiting hy them. That is, men debase their nature when they take advantage of woman's weakness. AYomen, may Heaven help them ! ^^'^ And credulous to false prints. That is, easily accessible to false impressions. "A ruff /^c/ at Madrid," in other words, neatly impressed or puckered, is mentioned in the Inconstant Lady. " How easv is it for the proper false, in women's waxen hearts to set their forms," Twelfth Night. Than faults may shake our frames. Since, I presume, we are made to be no stronger, than that faults may shake om* frames ; in othsr words, we are not created so strongly as not to be susceptible to evil doing. Let me entreat you speak the former language. Isabella answers to his circumlocutory courtship, that she has but one tongue, she does not understand this new j^hrase, and desires him to talk his former language, that is, to talk as he talked before. — Johnson. AVarburton reads, formal language. My brother did love Juliet. Compare the lines in Promos and Cassandra which commence as follo\A"s,— " If that you love, as you say," kc. ^'-^ I know your virtue hath a licence int. I know your virtue assumes an air of licentiousness which is not natural to you, on purpose to try me. — Edin. Mag. 17SG. ^""^ Which seems a little fouler than it is. Renowned lord, you use this speech I hope your thrall to trye ; If otherwise, my brother's hfe so deare I will not bye. — Prom. Cass. Seeming, seeming! Hypocrisy, hypocrisy; counterfeit virtue. — Dr. Johnson. My vouch against you. Vouch seems simply to mean, testimony; but Dr. Warburton suggests the following refined explanation : — " the calling his denial of her charge his vouch, has something fine ; vouch is the testimony one man bears for another ; so that, l)y this, he insinuates his authority was so great, that his denial would have the same credit that a vouch or testimony has in ordinary cases." ^-^ And smell of calumny. This metaphor, observes Steevens, is taken from a lamp or candle extinguished in its own grease. And now I give my sensual race the rein. Race, disposition. "But thy vile race," Tempest. The word in Temple, NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. Ill quoted by Johnson (Dictionary), seems to be used in a similar or rather cognate sense. " Would you have me spend the floure of ray youth, as you do the withered race of your age," Lilly's Euphues. "Do not give dalliance too much the rein," Tempest ; spelt raigne in ed. 1623, p. 14. Fit thy consent to my sharp appetite. May appears to have imitated the present scene in his, Heire a Comedie as it was Acted by the Company of the Hevels, 1G20, published in 1G33. The following extract is taken verbatim from the old quarto edition, with the exception of the metrical arrangement not being preserved : — King. Now, Ladie, what would you doe to save the life of him you love so dearelie ? Leu. 1 cannot thinke that thought I would not doe, Lay it in my power, and beyond my power 1 would attempt. King. You would be thankfull then to me. If I should grant his pardon. Leu. If ever I were thankefull to the Gods for all that I call mine, my health and being, could I to you be unthankeful for a gift I value more then those, and without which these blessings were but wearisome. King. Those that are thankefidl studie to requite a curtesie, would you doe so ? would you requite this favour ? Leu. I cannot, sir, for all the service I can doe your Grace is but my dutie, you are my Soveraigne, and all my deedes to you are debts not merites. But to those powers above that can requite, that from their wastlesse treasures heape rewards, more out of grace then merits on us mortalls, to those He ever pray that they would give you more blessings then I have skill to aske. King. Nay, but, Leucothoe, this lies in thy power to requite, thy love M'ill make requital! ; wilt thou love me ? Leu. I ever did, my Lord. I was instructed from my infancie, to love and honour you, my Soveraigne. King. But in a neerer bond of love. Leu. There is no neerer nor no truer love then that a loyall subject beares a prince. King, Still thou wilt not conceive mee, I must deale plaine with you, wilt thou lie with me, and I will scale his pardon presentlie ; nay more. He heape upon you both all favours, all honours that a Prince can give. Jjeu. Oh mee unhappie ! In what a sad dilemma stands my choice ? Either to lose the man my soule most loves, or save him by a deed of such dishonour as he will ever loath me for, and hate to draw that breath that was so baselie kept. Name anie thing but that to save his life ; I know you doe but tempt my frailtie, sir ; I know your royal thoughts could never stoop to such a foule dishonourable act. King. Bethinke thy selfe, there is no way but that ; I sweare by Heaven never to pardon him but upon those conditions. Leu. Oh ! I am miserable. King. Thou art not, if not wilfull ; yield, Leucothoe ; It shall be secret ; Philocles, for his life, shall thanke thy love, but never know the price thou paidst for it ; be wise ; thou heardst me sweare, I cannot now shew mercie, thou maist save him ; and if he die, tis thou that art the Tyrant. Leu. I shoidd be so, if I should save him thus ; Nay, I should be a tray tor to your Grace, betray your soule to such a foe as lust; But since your oath is past, deare Philocles, lie shew to thee an honest crueltie, and rather foUow thee in spotlesse death, then buy with sinning a dishonour'd life. There is also a story in connexion with this subject, in Sir John Harington's 112 NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. Most Elegant and Wittie Epigrams, fol. Lond. 1633, "Of a Cuckold that had a chaste AVife :" — "When those Triumvirs set that three mans song, Which stablished in Rome that hellish trinity. That all the towne, and all the world did wrong. Killing their friends, and kinne of their affinity By tripartite Indenture, parting Rome, As if the world for them had wanted roome, Plotyna, wife of one of that same hundred. Whom Anthony prescrib'd to lose their life. For beauty much, for love to be more wondred, Su'd for her spouse, and told she was his wife. The Tyrant pleasant to see so faire a suter. Doth kisse her, and imbrace her, and salute her. Then makes, nay mockes a love too kinde, too crueU : She must to save her husband from proscription. Grant him one night her husbands chiefest Jewell. And what he meant, he shew'd by lewd description : Vowing, except he might his pleasure have. No meanes would serve her husbands life to save. Oh motion ! loving thoghts, no thoghts, but thornes. Either he dies, whom she esteemes most dearly : Or she her selfe subject to thousand scornes. Both feares do touch a noble matron neerely. Loe, yet an act, performed by this woman. Worthy a woman, worthy more a Romane : To show, more tlien her selfe, she lov'd her Spouse, She yeelds her body to this execution. Lay hy all nicety^ and proUxioiis hlushes. The word prolixious is not peculiar to Shakespeare. I find it in Moses his Birth and Miracles, by Drayton : — " Most part by water, more prolixioits was," &c. Again, in the dedication to Gabriel Harvey's Hunt Is Up, 1598 : " — rarifier of prolixious rough barbarism," &c. Again, in Nash's Lenten Stuff, &c. 1599 : — " — well known unto them by his prolixious sea-wandering." Frolixio7(s blushes mean what Milton has elegantly called " sweet reluctant delay.'' — Steevens. Though he hath fallen hy prompture of the hlood. Prompture, suggestion, temptation, instigation. — Dr. Johnson. Such a mind of honour. Mind of honour, that is, honourable mind. See examples of this mode of construction in vol, i. p. 281. i SCENE I. — A Room in the Prison. Enter Duke, Claudio, and Provost. Duke. So, then you hope of pardon from lord Angelo? Claud. The miserable have no other medicine, But only hope: I have hope to live, and am prepar'd to die. Duke. Be absolute for death ;^ either death, or life. Shall thereby be the sweeter. Reason thus with life : If I do lose thee, I do lose a thing That none but fools would keep:" a breath thou art, (Semle to all the skiey influences,^) That dost this habitation,* where thou keep'st, Hourly afflict : merely, thou art Death's fool ;^ For him thou labour'st by thy flight to shun, And yet runn'st toward him still. Thou art not noble, For all th' accommodations that thou bear'st. Are nurs'd by baseness." Thou art by no means valiant, For thou dost fear the soft and tender fork Of a poor worm.^ Thy best of rest is sleep. And that thou oft provok'st; yet grossly fear'st Thy death, which is no more.*^ Thou art not thyself,' For thou exist'st on many a thousand grains That issue out of dust. Happy thou art not; For what thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get,^° And what thou hast, forgett'st. Thou art not certain ; For thy complexion shifts to strange effects,^ ^ III. 15 114 MEASURE EOE MEASURE. [act iii. sc. i. After the moon. If thou art rich, thou 'rt poor; For, hke an ass, whose hack with ingots hows,^^ Thou hear'st thy heavy riches hut a journey, And Death unloads thee. Friend hast thou none; For thine own howels, which do call thee sire,^^ The mere effusion of thy proper loins, Do curse the gout, serpigo, and the rheum. For ending thee no sooner. Thou hast nor youth, nor age But, as it were, an after-dinner's sleep. Dreaming on hoth: for all thy hlessed youth Becomes as aged,^" and doth beg the alms Of palsied eld ;^ ' and when thou art old and rich, Thou hast neither heat, affection, limh, nor heauty, To make thy riches pleasant. What 's yet in this, That hears the name of life ? Yet in this life Lie hid more thousand deaths yet death we fear, That makes these odds all even. Claud. I humbly thank you. To sue to live, I find I seek to die; And, seeking death, find life Let it come on. Isah. SJVitliout^ What, ho! Peace here; grace and good company ! Fi'ov. Who's there? come in: the wish deserves a welcome. Enter Isabella. Duke. Dear sir, ere long I '11 visit you again. Claud. ^lost holv sir, I thank you. Isah. ^Ia' business is a word or two Vs it\\ Claudio. Prov. And very welcome. Look, signior, here 's your sister. Duke. Provost, a word with you. Prov. As many as you please. Duke. Bring me to hear them speak, where I may be conceal'd. [Exeunt Duke and Provost. Claud. Now, sister, what 's the comfort? Isah. AAliy, as all comforts are ; most good, most good indeed Lord Angelo, having affairs to Heaven, Intends you for his swift ambassador. Where vou shall be an everlastino; leijjer Therefore your best appointment make with speed;" To-morrow vou set on. Claud. Is there no remedy? ACT III. sc. I.] MEASURE FOR MEASURE. 115 Iscih. None, but such remedy as, to save a head. To cleave a heart in twain. Claud, But is there any? Isah. Yes, brother, you may hve; There is a devihsh mercy in the judge, If you '11 implore it, that will free your life. But fetter you till death. Claud. Perpetual durance? Isah. Ay, just, perpetual durance; a restraint. Though all the world's vastidity you had. To a determin'd scope. Claud. But in what nature? Isab. In such a one as (you consenting to 't) Would bark your honour'^ from that trunk you bear. And leave you naked. Claud. Let me know the point. Isah. O, I do fear thee, Claudio; and I quake, Lest thou a feverous life sliould'st entertain. And six or seven winters more respect Than a perpetual honour. Dar'st thou die? The sense of death is most in apprehension; And the poor beetle, that we tread upon. In corporal sufferance finds a pang as great As when a giant dies."' Claud. Why give you me this shame? Think you, I can a resolution fetch From flowery tenderness? If I must die, I will encounter darkness as a bride. And bus: it in mine arms.^^ Isah. There spake my brother ; there my father's grave Did utter forth a voice ! Yes, thou must die : Thou art too noble to conserve a life In base appliances. This outward-sainted deputy, — Whose settled visage and deliberate word Nips youth i' the head, and follies doth emmew, As falcon doth the fowl,'^ — is yet a devil; His filth within being cast,"^ he would appear A pond as deep as hell. Claud. The princely Angelo?^° Isah. O, 'tis the cunning livery of hell. The damned'st body to invest and cover In princely gards? Dost thou think, Claudio, 116 MEASUEE EOU MEASURE. [act III. sc. I. If T would yield him niy virginity, Thou niight'st be freed? Claud. O, heavens! it cannot be. Isah. Yes, he would give it thee, from this rank offence, So to offend him still.^^ This night 's the time That I should do what I abhor to name, Or else thou diest to-morrow. Claud. Thou shalt not do 't. Isah. O, were it but my life,^' I 'd throw it down for your deliverance As frankly as a pin. Claud. Thanks, dear Isabel. Isah. Be ready, Claudio, for your death to-morrow. Claud. Yes. — Has he affections in him. That thus can make him bite the law by th' nose,^^ When he would force it?^* Sure it is no sin; Or of the deadly seven it is the least.^^ » Isah. Which is the least? Claud. If it were damnable,^'' he, being so wise, AYhy, would he for the momentary trick Be perdurably fin'd ? — O Isabel ! Isah. W^iat says my brother? Claud. Death is a fearful thing. Isah. And shamed life a hateful. Claud. xAy, but to die, and go we know not where To lie in cold obstruction,^' and to rot ; This sensible warm motion to become A kneaded clod ; and the delighted spirit^'' To bathe in fiery floods,^" or to reside In thriUino' reo'ion^^ of thick-ribbed ice: To be imprison'd in the viewless winds,*' And blown with restless violence round about The pendent world; or to be worse than worst Of those, that lawless and incertain thought^ Imairines liowlino-I — "t is too horrible ! The weariest and most loathed worldly life, That age, ach, penury, and imprisonment Can lay on nature, is a paradise To what we fear of death.^^ Isah. Alas! alas! Claud. Sweet sister, let me hve: What sin you do to save a brother's life, /////.r/rff/r/w ti/'//?r rf^ir/Wi/ t>f r(>/>///'^??r>/'// ,S'pm/.i- re,ut/Mf/ r seep 137J ([^ccottDclp fapoe lafaras3R Caiue a PloDc offrofcaepcc mtlje tto^fcl^c cnu? OU0 men gb women t»erc plongptJ tJiito tlje naupU (Jt^an foDcnlp came acolDc ibrnUe rpgi^t great tljat bUttjeanD o^DUepcDOtoiu alltl)e cnurousmen ?t TDommtntotljecolDe watert^atnot^pnijetbasfene of tljan J Neft'rfilV lii: 100, S'MaitmslsM . To ^ace p. ///> ACT III. SC. I.] MEASURE EOE MEASURE. 117 Nature dispenses with the deed so far, That it becomes a virtue. Isab. O, you beast I O, faithless coward! O, dishonest wretch! Wih thou be made a man out of my vice ? Is 't not a kind of incest, to take hfe From thine own sister's shame? What Ihould I think? Heaven shield my mother play'd my father fair! For such a warped slip of wilderness*' Ne'er issued from his blood. Take my defiance ; Die ! perish ! might but my bending down Reprieve thee from thy fate, it should proceed : I '11 pray a thousand prayers for thy death, — No word to save thee. Claud. Nay, hear me, Isabel. Isab. O fie, fie, fie ! Thy sin 's not accidental, but a trade Mercy to thee would prove itself a bawd : 'T is best that thou diest quickly. \Gom(j. Claud. O hear me, Isabella. He-enter Duke. Duke. Vouchsafe a word, young sister, but one word. Imb. What is your will? Duke. Might you dispense with your leisure, I would by and by have some speech with you : the satisfaction I would require is likewise your own benefit. Isab. I have no superfluous leisure ; my stay must be stolen out of other affairs ; but I will attend you a while. Duke. [_To Cl AUDIO, aside. ^^ Son, I have overheard what hath pass'd between you and your sister. Angelo had never the purpose to corrupt her ; only he hath made an assay of her virtue, to practise his judgment with the disposition of natures ; she, having the truth of honour in her, hath made him that gracious denial which he is most glad to receive : I am con- fessor to Angelo, and I know this to be true ; therefore prepare yourself to death. Do not satisfy your resolution*' with hopes that are fallible : to-morrow you must die ; go to your knees, and make ready. Claud. Let me ask my sister pardon. I am so out of love with life, that I will sue to be rid ©f it. Duke. Hold you there farewell. [Exit Claudio. lis MEASURE EOR MEASURE. [act III. sc. I. Re-enfer Provost. Provost, a Avord with von. Prov. What's your will, father? l)i(he. That now you are come, you will he gone. Leave me a while with the maid ; my mind promises with my hahit, no loss shall touch her by my company. Prov. In good time.*" [_Ex'd Provost. Duhe. The hand that hath made vou fair hath made von good : the goodness, that is cheap in beauty, '° makes beauty brief in goodness ; but grace, being the soul of your complexion, shall keep the body of it ever fair. The assault that Angelo hath made to you, fortune hath convey'd to my understanding ; and, but that frailty hath examples for his falling, I should wonder at Ano-elo. How will vou do to content this substitute, and to save vour brother ? Isab. I am now going to resolve him, I had rather my brother die by the law, than my son should be unlawfully born. But O, how much is the good duke deceiv'd in Angelo ! If ever he return, and I can speak to him, I will open my lips in vain, or discover his government. Duke. That shall not be much amiss : yet, as the matter now stands, he will avoid your accusation ; he made trial of you only.""^ — Therefore, fasten your ear on my advi sings ; to the love I have in doing good : a remedy presents itself. I do make myself believe that you may most uprighteously'' do a poor wronged lady a merited benefit ; redeem your brother from the angry law ; do no stain to your own gracious person ; and much please the absent duke, if, peradvcnture, he shall ever return to have hearing of this business. Isab. Let me hear you speak further. I have spirit to do anything that appears not foul in the truth of my spirit. JJffke. Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful."^ Have you not heard speak of ^lariana, the sister of Frederick, the great soldier, who miscarried at sea? Isab. I have heard of the lady, and good words went with her name. IJiike. She should this Angelo have married ; was affianced to her by oath, and the nuptial appointed ; between which time of the contract, and limit of the solemnity, her brother Frederick was wrecked at sea, having in that perished vessel the dowry of ACT III. SC. I.] MEASURE EOR MEASURE. 119 his sister. But mark, how heavily this befel to the poor gentlewoman : there she lost a noble and renowned brother, in his love toward her ever most kind and natural ; with him the portion and sinew of her fortune, her marriage-dowry; with both, her combinate husband,'* this well-seeming Angelo. Isah. Can this be so ? Did Angelo so leave her ? Duke. Left her in her tears, and dried not one of them with his comfort; swallowed his vows whole, pretending in her discoveries of dishonour ; in few, bestow'd her on her own lamentation,'^ which she yet wears for his sake ; and he, a marble to her tears, is washed with them, but relents not. Isah. What a merit were it in death, to take this poor maid from the world I What corruption in this life, that it will let this man live ! — But how out of this can she avail ? Duke. It is a rupture that you may easily heal ; and the cure of it not only saves your brother, but keeps you from dishonour in doing it. Isah. Show me how, good father. Duke. This fore-named maid hath yet in her the continuance of her first affection ; his unjust unkindness, that in all reason should have quenched her love, hath, like an impediment in the current, made it more violent and unruly. Go you to Angelo : answer his requiring with a plausible obedience : agree with his demands to the point : only refer yourself to this advantage,'" — first, that your stay with him may not be long ; that the time may have all shadow and silence in it; and the place answer to convenience. This being granted in course, and now follows all : we shall advise this wronged maid to stead up your ap- pointment, go in your place ; if the encounter acknowledge itself hereafter, it may compel him to her recompense : and here, by this, is your brother saved, your honour untainted, the poor Mariana advantaged, and the corrupt deputy scaled. " The maid will I frame, and make fit for his attempt. If you think well to carry this, as you may, the doubleness of the benefit defends the deceit from reproof. What think you of it ? Isah. The image of it gives me content already; and, I trust, it will grow to a most prosperous perfection. Duke. It lies much in your holding up. Haste you speedily to Angelo ; if for this night he entreat you to his bed, give him promise of satisfaction. I will presently to St. Luke's ; there, at the moated grange,^^ resides this dejected Mariana. At 120 MEASrUE rOU MEASURE. [act m. sc. ii. that place call upon me ; and despatch with Angelo, that it may be quickly. Isab. I thank you for this comfort : Fare you well, good father. [Exeynt. SCENE U.—The Street before the Prison. Enter Duke, as a Friar; to him Elbow, Clown, and Officers. Elb. Nav, if there be no remedy for it, but that you will needs buy and sell men and women like beasts, w^e shall haye all the world drink brown and white bastard. JJide. O, heayens I Ayhat stuff is here ? Clo. 'Twas never merry world,^" since, of two usuries,'^ the merriest was put down, and the worser allow'd by order of law a furr'd gown to keep him w arm : and furr'd with fox and lambskins too,''" to signify that craft, being richer than innocency, stands for the facing. Elb Come your way, sir : — Bless you, o-ood father friar. Duke. And you, g-ood brother father.''^ What offence hath this man made you, sir? Elb. Marry, sir, he hath offended the law ; and, sir, w-e take him to be a thief too, sir ; for we have found upon him, sir, a strange pick-lock,*'^ which we have sent to the deputy. Duke. Fie, sirrah ; a bawd, a w icked bawd ! The evil that thou causest to be done. That is thy means to hve. Do thou but think What 't is to cram a maw, or clothe a back. From such a filthy vice ; say to thyself, — From their abominable and beastly touches^" I drink, I eat, array mvself, and live.'''' Can'st thou believe thy living is a life. So stinkingly depending? Go, mend; go, mend. Clo. Indeed, it does stink in some sort, sir ; but yet, sir, I would ])rove — Duke. Nay, if the devil have given thee proofs for sin, Thou wilt prove his. Take him to prison, officer. Correction and instruction must both work, Ere this rude beast will profit. Elb. He must before the deputy, sir ; he has given him warning ; the deputy cannot abide a whoremaster : if he be a ACTm. sc. n.] MEASURE EOH MEASURE. 121 whoremonger, and comes before him, he were as good go a mile on his errand. Duke. That we were all, as some would seem to be, Free from our faults, as faults from seeming free Enter Lucio. Elb. His neck will come to your waist a cord, sir. CIo. I spy comfort : I cry, bail : Here 's a gentleman, and a friend of mine. Lucio. How now, noble Pompey? What, at the wheels of Caesar? Art thou led in triumph? What, is there none of Pygmalion's images, newly made woman,*'" to be had now, for j)utting the hand in the pocket and extracting it clutched ? What reply? Ha ? What say'st thou to this tune, matter, and method? Is 't not drown'd i' the last rain?^° Ha? What say'st thou, trot?^^ Is the world as it was, man? Which is the way?^^ Is it sad, and few words ? Or how ? The trick of it? Duke. Still thus and thus ! still worse ! Lucio. How doth my dear morsel,^^ thy mistress ? Procures she still? Ha? Clo. Troth, sir, she hath eaten up all her beef, and she is her- self in the tub.^^ Lucio. Why, 't is good ; it is the right of it : it must be so : Ever your fresh whore, and your powder'd bawd : an unshunn'd consequence it must be so. Art going to prison, Pompey? Clo. Yes, faith, sir. Lucio. Why, 'tis not amiss, Pompey: Farewell; go; say, I sent thee thither. For debt, Pompey, or how?^'' Elb. For being a bawd, for being a bawd. Lucio. Well, then imprison him : If imprisonment be the due of a bawd, Avhy, 't is his right : Bawd is he, doubtless, and of antiquity too : bawd-born. Farewell, good Pompey: Commend me to the prison, Pompey. You will turn good husband now, Pompey; you will keep the house." Clo. I hope, sir, your good worship will be my bail. Lucio. No, indeed, will I not, Pompey; it is not the wear." I will pray, Pompey, to increase your bondage : if you take it not patiently, why, your mettle is the more. Adieu, trusty Pompey. — Bless you, friar. Duke. And you. Lucio. Does Bridget paint still, Pompey? Ha? III. 16 122 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. [act iii. sc. ii. Elb. Come your ways, sir; come. Clo. You will not bail me, then, sir? Lucio. Then, Pompey, nor now.'' — What news abroad, friar? What news? Elb. Come your ways, sir; come. Lucio. Go, — to kennel, Pompey, go:^° [Exeunt Elbow, Clown, and Officers. What news, friar, of the duke? Duke. I know none: Can you tell me of any? Lucio. Some say he is with the emperor of Russia; othersome, he is in Rome: But where is he, think you? Duke. I know not where : but wheresoeyer, I wish him well. Lucio. It was a mad fantastical trick of him, to steal from the state, and usurp the beggary he was never born to. Lord Angelo dukes it well in his absence; he puts transgression to 't.'' Duke, lie does well in 't. Lucio. A little more lenity to lechery would do no harm in him : something too crabbed that way, friar. Duhe. It is too general a yice,'" and severity must cure it. Lucio. Yes, in good sooth, the vice is of a great kindred; it is well allied; but it is impossible to extirp it quite,^^ friar, till eating and drinking be put down. They say, this Angelo was not made by man and woman, after this downright way of creation: Is it true, think you? Duke. How should he be made, then? Lucio. Some report a sea-maid spawn'd him : — Some, that he was begot between two stock-fishes: — But it is certain that, when he makes water, his urine is congeal'd ice; that I know to be true: and he is a motion generative;'* that 's infallible . Duke. Aou are pleasant, sir; and speak apace. Lucio. Why, what a ruthless thing is this in him, for the rebellion of a codpiece to take away the life of a man! Would the duke, that is absent, have done this? Ere he would have hang'd a man for the getting a hundred bastards, he would have paid for the nursing a thousand : He had some feeling of the sport ; he knew the service, and that instructed him to mercy. Duke. I never heard the absent duke much detected for women \ ' he was not inclin'd that way. Lucio. O, sir, you are deceiv'd. Duke. 'T is not possible. Lucio. Who? not the duke? yes, your beggar of fifty; — and ACTiii.sc.il.] MEASURE EOE MEASURE. 123 his use was to put a ducat in her clack-dish tlie duke had crotchets in him : He would be drunk too ; that let me inform you. Duke. You do him wrong, surely. Lucio. Sir, I was an inward of his.^^ A shy fellow was the duke and, I believe, I know the cause of his withdrawing. Duke, What, I prithee, might be the cause? Lucio. No, — pardon ; — 't is a secret must be lock'd within the teeth and the lips : but this I can let you understand, — The greater file of the subject^^ held the duke to be wise. Duke. Wise? why, no question but he was. Lucio. A very superficial, ignorant, unweighing fellow. Duke. Either this is envy in you, folly, or mistaking; the very stream of his life, and the business he hath helmed, must, upon a warranted need, give him a better proclamation. Let him be but testimonied in his own bringings forth, and he shall appear to the envious a scholar, a statesman, and a soldier. Therefore, you speak unskilfully; or, if your knowledge be more, it is much darken'd in your malice. Lucio. Sir, I know him, and I love him. Duke. Love talks with better knowledge, and knowledge with dearer love.^^ Lucio. Come, sir, I know what I know. Duke. I can hardly believe that, since you know not what you speak. But, if ever the duke return (as our prayers are he may), let me desire you to make your answer before him: If it be honest you have spoke, you have courage to maintain it: I am bound to call upon you: and, I pray you, your name. Lucio. Sir, my name is Lucio ; well known to the duke. Duke. He shall know you better, sir, if I may live to report you. Lucio. I fear you not. Duke. O, you hope the duke will return no more ; or you imagine me too unhurtful an opposite. But, indeed, I can do you little harm: you '11 forswear this again. Lucio. I '11 be hang'd first : thou art deceiv'd in me, friar. But no more of this. Cans't thou tell if Claudio die to-morrow, or no? Duke. Why should he die, sir? Lucio. Why, for filling a bottle with a tun-dish.^* I would the duke we talk of were return'd again : this ungenitur'd agent"' will unpeople the province with continency ; sparrow s must not 124 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. [act III. sc. II. build in his house-eaves,"" because they are lecherous. The duke yet would have dark deeds darkly answered; he would never bring them to light : would he were return'd ! Marry, this Claudio is condemned for untrussing.'^' Farewell, good friar ; I prithee, pray for me. The duke, I say to thee again, would eat mutton on Fridays."^ He 's now past itf^ yet and I say to thee, he would mouth with a beggar, though she smelt brown bread and garlic say that I said so. Farewell. [_Exit. Duhe. No might nor greatness in mortality Can censure 'scape; back-wounding calumny The whitest virtue strikes. What king so strong. Can tie the gall up in the slanderous tongue ! But who comes here? Enter Escalus, Provost, Mistress Overdone, and Officers. Escal. Go, away with her to prison. Over. Good my lord, be good to me ; your honour is accounted a merciful man : good my lord. Escal. Double and treble admonition,^'* and still forfeit in the same kind?*°" This would make !Mercy swear, and play the tvrant.*'^^ Prov. A bawd of eleven years* continuance, may it please vour honour. Over. My lord, this is one Lucio's information against me : mistress Kate Keepdown was with child by him in the duke s time ; he promis'd her marriage ; his child is a year and a quar- ter old, come Philip and Jacob i**^* I have kept it myself; and see how he goes about to abuse me. Escal. That fellow is a fellow of much licence: let him be caird before us. — Away with her to prison: Go to; no more words, [Exeunt Bawd and Officers.] Provost, my brother Angelo will not be alter'd ; Claudio must die to-morrow : let him be furnish'd with divines, and have all charitable preparation: if my brother ^^ rought by my pity, it should not be so with him. Prov. So please you, this friar hath been with him, and advis'd him for the entertainment of death. Escal. Good even, good father. Duhe. Bliss and goodness on you ! Escal. Of whence are you? Duhe. Not of this country, though my chance is now To use it for my time : I am a brother ACT III. SC. II.] MEASURE EOU MEASURE. 125 Of gracious order, late come from the see/°'^ In special business from his holiness. Escal. What news abroad i' the world? Duke. None, but that there is so great a fever on goodness, that the dissolution of it must cure it : novelty is only in request ; and as it is as dangerous^°^ to be aged in any kind of course, as it is virtuous to be constant in any undertaking; there is scarce truth enough alive to make societies secure ; but security enough to make fellowships accurs'd much upon this riddle runs the wisdom of the world. This news is old enough, yet it is every day's news. I pray you, sir, of what disposition was the duke ? Escal. One, that above all other strifes, contended especially to know himself. Duke. What pleasure was he given to? Escal. Rather rejoicing to see another merry, than merry at anything which profess'd to make him rejoice: a gentleman of all temperance. But leave we him to his events, with a prayer they may prove prosperous; and let me desire to know how you find Claudio prepar'd. I aai made to understand that you have lent him visitation. Duke. He professes to have received no sinister measure from his judge, but most willingly humbles himself to the deter- mination of justice : yet had he framed to himself, by the instruc- tion of his frailty, many deceiving promises of life ; which I, by my good leisure, have discredited to him, and now^ is he resolved to die.^^^ Escal. You have paid the heavens your function, and the prisoner the very debt of your calling. I have labour'd for the poor gentleman, to the extremest sliore of my modesty; but my brother justice have I found so severe, that he hath forc'd me to tell him he is indeed — justice. Duke. If his own life answer the straitness of his proceeding, it shall become him well; wherein if he chance to fail, he hath sentenc'd himself. Escal. I am going to visit the prisoner ! Fare you well. Duke. Peace be with you! [Exeunt Escalus and Prov. He, who the sword of heaven will bear,^^° Should be as holy as severe; Pattern in himself to know,^^^ Grace to stand, and virtue go; More nor less to others paying. Than by self-offences weighing. MEASURE FOR MEASURE. [act III. sc. II. Shame to him, whose cruel striking Kills for faults of his own liking ! Twice treble shame on Angelo, To weed my vice, and let his grow!"^ O, what may man within him hide, Though angel on the outward side!^^*^ How may likeness wade in crimes, Makino; practice on the times, To draw with idle spiders' strings jNIost ponderous and substantial things: Craft against vice I must apply: With Ano^elo to-nio-ht shall lie His old betrothed, but despised; So disguise shall, by the disguised. Pay with falsehood false exacting-, And perform an old contracting. \_Ex'd. ^ Be absolute for death. Be determined to die, without any hope of life. Horace, — The hour which exceeds expectation will be welcome. — Br. Johnson. I do lose a thing that none but fools would keep. Keep, as Steevens observes, meant formerly, to preserve, to care for ; but the word is here used in its ordinary sense, in contrast with lose. In the next line but one, it is the verb Jceep, to dwell. That dost this, that is, thou that dost this, &c. Warburton unnecessarily proposed to read, " that none but fools would reck'" that is, care for, be anxious about, regret the loss of. Malone thinks that Steevens' explanation is supported by the following lines in Webster's Dutchess of Malfy, 4to. Lond. 1623,— Of what is't fools make such vain keeping? Sin their conception, their birth weeping ; Their life a general mist of error ; Their death a hideous storm of terror. Keep, I believe, has here an emphatic sense ; not a wish to possess, as Dr. Johnson says, nor, as Mr. Steevens, care for, but guard, embrace, hold fast. Dr. Young, in the Brothers, calls life " a dream which ideots hug ;" and this I take to be the sense implied here. — Seymour. And seeing death to be the last of woes. And life lasting disgrace, which I shall get ; What doe I lose, that have but life to lose ? BanieVs Tragedie of Cleopatra, 1601. ^ Servile to all the skiey influences. Skiey is not a common w^ord. Mr. Dyce refers to Copley's Fig for Fortune, 1596, — "As whilom Phaeton in his skyey carte." Skyish occurs in Hamlet. * Tliat dost this habitation. Hanmer changed dost to do, without necessity or authority. The construction is not, " the skiey influences that do," but, " a breath thou art, that dost." — Borson. ^ Merely, thou art death' s fool. See a copious note on this subject in the annotations on Pericles, where it is again alluded to. 128 NOTES TO THE THIRD ACT. ^ Are mirsd hy baseness. Shakespeare meant to observe, that a minute analysis of life at once destroys that splendour which dazzles the imagination. "Whatever grandeur can display, or luxury enjoy, is procured hy baseness, by offices of which the mind shrinks from the contemplation. All the delicacies of the table may be traced back to the shambles and the dunghill, all magnificence of building was hewn from the quarry, and all the pomp of ornament dug from among the damps and darkness of the mine. — Johnson. This is a thought wliicli Shakespeare delights to express. So, in Antony and Cleopatra : — " — our dungy earth ahke feeds man as beast." Again : — " the dung, the beggar's nurse, and Cfesar's." — Steevens. ^ The soft and tender fori- of a poor worm. The fork is merely the single sharpened end, the soft and tender insertion of the conmion earth-Morm — "the worm shall feed sweetly on him." So, in Lear, the term forh is applied to the single point of an arrow. ^ Yet grossly fearst thy death, ichich is no more. Shakespeare is here certainly only speaking of the sense of death, the parting of the soul from the body. The opinion of some of the commentators that there is the slightest intimation at variance with a belief in the immortality of the soul, is disproved by several other speeches in this same play, and, indeed, the very notion of sleep presumes the power to wake again. AYarburton refers to the following passage in Cicero : — " Habes somnum, imaginem mortis, eamque quotidie induis, et dubitas quin sensus in morte nullus sit, cum in ejus simulacro videas esse nullum sensum." ^ Thou art not thyself. Dr. Johnson explains this, — " Thou art perpetually repaired and renovated by external assistance ; thou subsistest upon foreign matter, and hast no power of producing or continuing thy own being." The Scriptural phrase, we die daily, is, indeed, physically true, the elements of which the body is composed being in a constant state of transition. ^'^ For ichat thou hast not, still thou striv'st to get. All things follow but the course of their owne natm'e, saving onely man, who while by the pregnancie of his imagination he strives to things supernaturall, meane-while he looseth his owne naturall felicitie. — The Coimtesse of Pembroke's Arcadia, by Sir P. Sidney, 1599. " Thy complexion shifts to strange effects. That is, thy temperament alters to strange events or conclusions, as in- constant as tlie moon. Johnson proposes to read affects, aff'ections or passions of the mind. There may, however, be a more recondite meaning in the text, and it may not be irrelevant to quote the folloM'ing from Berthelet's edition of Bartho- lomeus, fol. Loud, 1535, — "Under the moone is conteyned sykenesse, losse, fere and drede, and dommage : therfore aboute the chaungynge of mans bodye the vertue of the moone werketh principallye ; and that fallethe through the swefte- nesse of his mevynge, and for that he is nyghe to us, and also for the privy power and myghte that is kyndelye in the moone ; and therfore a phisicyon knowethe not perfyghtlye the cliaungyng of syckenes, but if he knowe the eff'ectes and werkynge of the moone in mannes bodye." In support of Dr. Johnson's sugges- tion, it may be observed that effect was sometimes misprinted for an instance occurring in an old copy of the Return from Parnassus now before me, — " he that NOTES TO THE THIRD ACT. 129 loves to live in an od corner here at London, and effect an odde wench in a nooke." For^ like an ass, whose hack with ingots bows. Steevens refers to the following simile, which occurs in Churchyard's Discourse of RebeUion, 1570 : Rebellion thus, with paynted vizage brave, Leads out poore soules (that knowes not ffold from glas) Who beares the packe and burthen like the asse. There is a similar comparison in Whitney's Emblems, In Avaros : This caitiffe wretche with pined corpes lo heare, Compared right unto the foolishe asse, Whose backe is fraighte with cates and daintie cheare, But to his share commes neither corne nor grasse ; Yet beares he that which settes his teeth on edge, And pines himself with thistle and with sedge. Whitney's description of an ass bearing cates, it may be observed, corresponds with English customs ; but an ass bearing ingots is an Eastern image, and was probably derived from the Scriptures. See Isaiah, xxx. 6. — Malone. It vexes me no more to see such a picture, than to see an ass laden with riches ; because I know, when he can bear no longer, he must leave his burthen to some other beast. — Old Fortunatus, 1600. For thy own bowels, which do call thee sire. So the fourth folio of 1685, but the three earlier editions of 1623, 1632, and 1664, read, " which do call thee, fire." It has been stated there is one copy of the edition of 1632, in which the passage is printed as in the fourth folio. Thou hast nor youth, nor age. This is exquisitely imagined. When we are young, we busy ourselves in forming schemes for succeeding time, and miss the gratifications that are before us ; when we are old, we amuse the languor of age with the recollection of youthful pleasures or performances ; so that our life, of which no part is filled with the business of the present time, resembles our dreams after dinner, when the events of the morning are mingled with the designs of the evening. — Johnson. Quae vero setas longa est? aut quid omnino homini longum? nonne modo pueros, modo adolescentes, in cursu a tergo insequens, nec opinantes assecuta est senectus. — Cicero. Thy blessed youth becomes as aged. That is, thy youth, blessed with aU the qualities essential to enjoyment, becomes like age from want of the means to purchase pleasure, and ignominiously begs alms of palsied eld ; while, when you are old and wealthy, you have neither desire (heat, affection) nor strength (limb nor beauty) to make your riches subservient to your enjoyments. There is a similar idea, as Malone observes, in King Lear, — " This policy and reverence of age makes the world bitter to the best of our times ; keeps our fortunes from us till our oldness cannot relish them." There is a similar expression, " thy best of youth," in Beaumont, ed. Dyce, xi. 482. Warburton suggests to read, — " Yoy palVd, thy blazed jq>vX\\ becomes assuaged;'' Dr. Johnson, — ''blasted yovXh^' AYhite, — "becomes enag'd " ^m\i\i, — "becomes imaged,'' or, " becomes non-aged ;" and the Perkins MS., — " boasted youth." All III. 17 130 NOTES TO THE THIHD ACT. tliesc alterations seem as unnecessary as Warburton's reading of hounty for hemity, which occurs shortly afterwards. Edwards justly observes that by limb and heaiity are denoted power, strength. " Now nature's pencil, and the hand of time, give life and limb to generation's act," Middleton's Eamily of Love, 1608. " Some people may not be able to understand how the period of youth can, in one and the same breath, be called blessed, and yet miserable as old age. They look on that as a contradiction. Such people ought never to read poetry. At any rate, they ought first to learn that the poet is privileged, nay, is often bound to declare as actual that which is only potential or ideal. Thus, he may say that Messed youth is a miserable season of existence, meaning thereby that misery over- spreads even that time of life which ouglit to he, and w^hicli ideally is, the happiest in the pilgrimage of man. The manuscript corrector has but an obtuse perception of these niceties, and hence he substitutes boasted for blessed — converting Shake- speare's language into mere verbiage." — Anon. And doth beg the aim of palsied eld. Eld, that is, old age. The foUomng passage, curiously illustrative of this word, is taken from a MS. of the fifteenth century, the Eour Humours of Man, — • " Also ther ben foure ages in the which every humour hath beynge thorou licnesse, that is, childhod, youthe, manhod, and elde. Childhod is fro the tyme that he is bore til he be twenty-fyve wyntir eld, and that age is hooot and moist : youthe is fro twenty fyve yeer to thirty f}^e or to fouerti wyntir old, and that age is hoot and drye : manhod is from thirty fp-e or fouerti wynter til he be fifti or sixti yeer eld, and that age is coold and drie : elde lastith from fifti yeer or sixti until the lyves ende, and that age is coold and moist." Art thou hym that, saide he thane. That slew Gollerothirame ? I had no brothir bot hym ane, AYhenne he was of elde. The Roma)ice of Sir Perceval of Galles, 2044. That she might change for every trifling toy Reverenced old eld, some spruce youth to enjov. TJie Neice Metamorphosis, 1600, MS. ^" Lie hid more thousand deaths. Eor this Sir T. Hanmer reads, — a thousand deaths. The meaning is not only a thousand deaths, but a thousand deaths besides what have been mentioned. — Johnson. " Moe thousand," ed. 1623. And, seeMng death, find life. Monck Mason censures this sentiment as now used by Claudio, on the ground that the Duke says nothing on the subject ; but, as Boswell observes with much judgment, Claudio's answer is the inference which the Duke intended shoidd be drawn from his arguments. Bring me to hear them speaJc. The following are ]\lr. Knight's judicious observations on the readings of the old copies : — " The reading of the original folio is, — ' Bring them to hear me speak, where I may be conceal'd.' This is clearly an error ; for the Duke does not desire that Claudio and his sister should hear him speak, but that being concealed he should hear them. The second folio corrects this manifest error, and at the same time creates another error : — ' Bring them to speak, where I may be conceal'd, yet hear them.' This is the usual reading ; yet it is clearly wrong ; NOTES TO THE THIED ACT. 131 for the Duke and the Provost go out to the place of concealment, whilst Claudio and his sister remain. The transposition of the pronouns in the original line gives the meaning." Why, as all comforts are ; most good, most good indeed. " The meaning is, that the comfort she brought him was in its own nature, and in reality, good and advantageous to him, though the words in which she was about to express it would sound harsh and uncomfortable in his ears. What follows sufficiently ascertains this interpretation : for she immediately goes on to give him notice, that he was with all speed to set out to take possession of the happiness reserved in heaven," Heath's lievisal. Dr. Johnson reads, in deed, and Hanmer, in speed. The first reading is explained by Isabella meaning that she brings something better than words of comfort — she brings an assurance of deeds. Blackstone suggests that indeed should commence the next paragraph. ~^ Where you shall he an everlasting leiger. Isabella's first address to her brother, revealing her agonizing intelligence, is strictly true to nature, which seeks so often to disguise the intensity of feeling under the semblance of parable. A leiger is a resident ambassador at a foreign court, a term strictly suitable to the sense of the present passage. The word was also occasionally applied to any English agent resident abroad, as in the play of Lord Cromwell, where a " leiger for the English merchants " is mentioned. The word leiger is thus used in the comedy of Look About You, 1600 : — "Why do you stay, Sir? — Madam, as leiger to solicit for your absent love." Again, in Leicester's Commonwealth : " a special man of that hasty king, who was his ledger, or agent, in London," &c. — Steevens. Jolt. Welcome ! Men o' war, what news abroad in town ? — Cut. Brave news, I faith ; it arriv'd but yesterday by an Irish priest, that came over in the habit of a fish-wife ; a cunning fellow, and a man o' business ; he's to lie leiger here for a whole Irish college beyond-sea, and do all their afPairs of state. The captain spoke with him last night at the Blew Anchor! — Coideys Cutter of Coleman Street, 1663. This piece of wit was revived in the story of Dennis Bond, who died the day before Oliver Cromwell. Upon which 'twas said, that Cromwell gave Bond to the devil for his appearance the day following. There is an image not much unlike it, in a poem of Skelton's (Poet Laureat to King Henry VIII.) intit'led. Why come ye not to Court?, Works, edit. 1736, p. 164.— Grey. The following lucid note on this speech is given by Mr. Knight : — " The commentators appear to have overlooked that the use of the word leiger is distinctly associated with the image of an ambassador in the preceding line. A leiger ambassador was a resident ambassador — not one sent on a brief and special mission. There is a passage in Lord Bacon which gives us this meaning distinctly: 'Leiger ambassadors, or agents, were sent to remain in or near the courts of those princes or states, to observe their motions, or to hold corres- pondence with them.' The same association of ideas is carried forward in the word appointment, which Steevens explains as preparation for death. But the word especially belongs to an ambassador, as we find in Burnet : ' He had the appointments of an ambassador, but would not take the character.' " Therefore your best appointment mahe with speed. Appointment, that is, preparation as for a journey, which to-morrow yon set on. " I appoynte or decke one in aparayle," Palsgrave, 1530. " Eurnished, garnished, wel appoynted with all necessaries," Baret's Alvearie, 1580. " Your 132 NOTES TO THE THIED ACT. lodging is decently appointed," Antipodes, 1638, ap. Steevens. "Instructiis ad mortem cotitemnandum, perfectlye appointed to contemne death," Cooperi Thesaurus, ed. 1584 To a determirid scope. "A confinement of your mind to one painful idea ; to ignominy, of which the remembrance can neither be suppressed nor escaped," Johnson. Compare a fine passage in Beaumont and Eletcher, — there is a way To gain thy freedom, but 'tis such a one, As puts thee in worse bondage. Would harh yoiir lionour. A metaphor from stripping trees of their bark. — Bouce. " I barke a tree, or pyll of the rynde of barke of it ; he is a foole that wyll sell his okes for fuell afore they be barked," Palsgrave, 1530. Finds a pang as great as when a giant dies, Shakespeare's meaning here has been the subject of considerable discussion, but his intention seems to be clearly this, — The sense or feeling of the horror of death mainly consists in the contemplation of it ; the mere pang itself being as great suffering in the poor beetle that is crushed, as in the death of a giant. The contrast is evidently between the mental and physical pain, and, without the former, that the death of an insect would be as horrible as that of the highest order of man. This is probably an exaggeration, but Isabel is endeavouring to impress upon her brother tbe slight pain there is in a violent death, and implies by her language that a giant even, in such an end, will feel no more pain than an insect wonld under similar circumstances. The construction is curiously elliptical, to be construed thus, — as a giant does when he dies, or, as there is when a giant dies. The former explanation is probably right, the omission of the verb in a second sentence being very common. Thus, in a rare tract, the Report of the horrible Mm-tlier in the House of Sir Jerome Bowes, 1607, — "the souldier that puts on his armour may not boast, as hee that puts it off," that is, as he boasts who puts it off. "•^ A resolution fetch from flowery tenderness. Why do you thus put me to shame ? Think you my resolution is to be formed by eloquent pathos ? Claudio is now indignant that his sister should imagine he had not courage to prepare for death without being reasoned mto it. This inter- pretation seems more natural than Heatli's, — " I must desire that you, on your part, will do me the justice to think, that I am able to draw a resolution even from this tenderness of my youth, which is commonly found to be less easily reconciled to so sudden and so liai'sh a fate." And hug it in mine arms. So, in the Eirst Part of Jeronimo, or the Spanish Tragedy, 1605 : night. That yawning Beldam, with her jetty skin, 'Tis she I hug as mine effeminate bride. — Steevens. Again, in Antony and Cleopatra : 1 will be A hridegroom in my death ; and run into't, As to a lover's bed. — Malone. h.rfyrrr^s /mm S/ni/fe.rptf/r/s P//ff/s , .(e.//'r/:<'f/ /rrrn a Mn/tJ/scnpf; Comrrwn -p//ur-/)(t»fi of fjif seven/^.en//b,Centiuy ejcAiSdm^ jo/ne e^ii/nplej of fA^ unaut/ionif// tr//rrt/Jr/>iis m f/u ^r/ nk/rA Mrre (vmm^in. at t/m/ prri/'f/ t-'yiuJ4:rt^- r^uj -h?&-T - - ^ — • 9- oM JrO -fP&^ip MxLj^rVr^^^^^ Jcf?&^ f cn£^ a-yD-Sh cA,yt^ (XS Jrf?en^ jrf?»')'f'i£,9-f'X>^ rzTznjv^ cruJe- Jrds pure jfyy ^\^T^uyT^cn^S .^v-£^ ^^^^^^ U4-rLt-Ty-^^j^a.^ . z;^ ' ^ -f?f^ "^^^ 77o<->^»^ cXi^L&J Lxn'ifrfP e<-^ -T^k^tn*- ^u,,^jt^'^ ,fp&^ ^cr^j /rLy? -~ ■ .1 NelliTc^V.hdi^lOO. j'MsrniisIjBie To fa/* p. i'^'^- NOTES TO THE THIED ACT. 133 And follies doth emmew, as falcon doth the fowl. " Forces follies to lie in cover, without daring to show themselves," Johnson. " In whose presence the follies of youth are afraid to show themselves, as the fowl is afraid to flutter while the falcon hovers over it." So, in the Third Part of King Henry VI. : not he that loves him best, The proudest he that holds up Lancaster, Dares stir a wing, if Warwick shakes his bells. " To enmew is a term in falconry, also used by Beaumont and Eletcher, in the Knight of Malta : I have seen him scale, As if a falcon had run up a train, Clashing his warlike pinions, his steel'd cuirass. And, at his pitch, enmew the town below him. — Steevens. Dr. Grey, i. 118, proposes to read falconer, and it must be admitted that Shakespeare's metaphor, in the original, is somewhat loosely constructed. His filth within being cast. Cast, that is, emptied. " Casting the poondes," Howard Household Books, p. 21. Upton, I think unnecessarily, transposes the words pond and filth, with the following explanation, — " If the water within was cast out and emptied (which now covers his filth), he would appear a quagmire of filth and mud, as deep as hell." ^° The princely Angelo. The first folio reads prenzie Angelo, and three lines lower prenzie gardes. The obvious corruption is altered to princely in the edition of 1632. Tieck suggests precise, in which he is followed by Mr. Knight ; and that epithet is applied to Angelo in act i. sc. 4. It cannot, however, be Shakespeare's word, as it does not suit the rhythm in the second instance. The ear wiU scarcely admit of any sub- stitute where the accent is not on the first syllable. Davenant adopts the reading of the second folio, but this circumstance does not add to its authority. Warburton suggests priestly, an exceedingly good conjecture, one which nearly balances in my mind with the reading here adopted ; but either appear to make very good sense. The following readings have also been proposed, viz., saintly (by Mr. Hickson), pious, pensive, printsy (meaning, in print, with exactness), frenzied, primsie (Scotch), and it has also been observed that prenzie may be right, and derived immediately from the Italian prence {prencipe). On the whole, I prefer princely, Angelo being represented as taking upon himself with great authority a princely position, and this word also better suiting with yards, ornaments of dress, such as laces, fringe, bands, hems, or borders, or any trappings. Princely gards, that is, observes Steevens, badges of royalty. It is curious to observe that, in the commonplace-book of the seventeenth century before quoted, and here given in facsimile, the writer, not understanding prenzie gards, capriciously and absurdly alters the expression to, gards of zeale. Divinity of hell ! When devils will the blackest sins put on. They do suggest at first with heavenly shows. As I do now. — Othello. He that would understand it, let him read, a God's name ; he shall finde I have dealt plainly, without welt or gard. — Rich's New Description of Ireland, 1610. 134) XOTES TO THE THIRD ACT. From this ranJc offence, so to offend Mm still. " Yes, he would put it in your power, from tlie advantage this rank offence of his would give you over him, to go on in the commission of the same sin, without fear of the law, or of his authority, for the future," Heath. Hanmer and U'arburton unnecessarily suggest to read, — " Yes, he would give thee for this rank offence, so to offend him still." Gildon, in his alteration of this play, 1700, writes, — " Y^es, he that wou'd not hear your innocence would quit you now of the most horrid guilt, give you a licence to sin on securely, wou'd I consent to be more black than he is." 0, icere it hut my life. Compare Promos and Cassandra, — " 0, would my life would satisfy his ire ! Cassandra then would," &c. That thus can maJce him bite the late hy the nose. That is, transgress or beard the law, at the same time he is putting it in force. "And liberty plucks justice by the nose," act i. The phrase, hit hy the nose, occurs in some early travels in MS. Lansd. 213, but there apparently in the sense of, deceived or cheated, — " in that dayes journey we had not the will to goe out of our way to be bit by the nose at Tewksberry, but left it on our left." Capell observes that " a phrase in it's last line is, what the fifth modern terms it, a bear- garden phrase, taken from the custom of driving cattle, and setting a dog upon them to catch them by the nose, and stop them when they go astray." ^ TFhen he icoiild force it. I was led, observes Malone, into a mistake concerning this passage, and into a hasty censure of Dr. AVarburton, by the false pointing of the modern editions, according to which, the word force could not admit of his interpretation. But I am now convinced that he was right, and that these lines should be pointed thus : ■ Has he affections in him That thus can make him bite the law by the nose, AVhen he would force it? — Sure it is no sin. Or of the deadly seven it is the least. Is he actuated by passions that impel him to transgress the law, at the very moment that he is enforcing it against others ? [I find, he is.] Surely then [since this is so general a propensity] it is no sin, or at least a venial one. So, in the next act : A deflower'd maid, And by an eminent body that enforced The law a^-ainst it. Force is again used for enforce in K. Henry VIII. If you wiU now unite in your complaints. And force them Avith a constancy. Again, in Coriolanus, — " ^\\s force you this ?" — Malone. '^^ Or of the deadly seven it is the least. " It may be useful to know which tliey are ; the reader is, therefore, presented with tlie following catalogue of them, viz. pride, envy, wrath, sloth, covetousness, gluttony, and lechery. To reca])itulate the punishments hereafter for these sins, might have too powerful an effect upon the weak nerves of the present generation; but whoever is desirous of being particularly acquainted Avith them, may find NOTES TO THE THIED ACT. 135 information in some of the old monkish systems of divinity, and especially in a curious book entitled Le Kalendrier des Bergiers, 1500, folio, of which there is an English translation," Douce. An early EngHsh poem on this subject, inscribed, Be septem peccatis mortalihus, is preserved in a MS. of the fifteenth century in Jesus College, Cambridge, where the several verses are inscribed, Superbia, Invidia, Ira, Accidia, Avaritia, Gula, and Luxuria. Nine pieces of tapestry, con- taining " the story of the vij. deedly synnes," are mentioned in the inventory of the goods of Cardinal Wolsey, MS. Harl. 599. If it were damnable. Shakespeare shows his knowledge of human nature in the conduct of Claudio. When Isabella first tells him of Angelo's proposal, he answers, with honest indig- nation, agreeably to his settled principles, — Thou slialt not doH. But the love of life being permitted to operate, soon furnishes him with sophistical arguments ; he believes it cannot be very dangerous to the soul, since Angelo, who is so wise, will venture it. — Johnson. " Here our author evinces his intimate acquaintance with human nature. While Claudio apprehended there was no hope of pardon, his resolution seemed firm ; but the means of acquiring that pardon being once disclosed to him, he relaxes into the most abject fear and weakness," MS. by T. Hull. A^, hut to die, and go we hnow not where. My soule is reeling forth, I know not whether {i. e. whither). The Maides Bevenge, by J. Shirley, 1639. Death in itself is nothing ; but we fear To be we know not what, we know not where. Drydens Aureng-Zehe, ap. Steevens. To lie in cold obstruction. In other words, to lie in the cold earth which obstructs every movement or vital action of tlie body ; or, possibly, to lie a lifeless mass, when the circulation of the body is entirely stopped. And the delighted spirit. This contested passage, when rigidly examined with the context, does not admit of two interpretations. The sensible warm motion to become a kneaded clod. In apposition to this, the delighted spirit to bathe in fiery f oods, &c. " The sensible warm motion (mentioned in the preceding line) is as much in contrast with the kneaded clod, as the delighted spirit \\'\t\i fiery fioods. In this connection the meaning is perfectly obvious. The body, now warm with life, and active in its , motions, will be reduced to a cold unanimated mass ; and the spirit now delighted or pleased with its situation and enjoyments in the body, will exchange it for the regions of unknown and unutterable horror," Anon. " The epithet delighted is extremely beautiful, as it carries on the fine antithesis between the joys of life and the horrors of death. This sensible warm motion must become a kneaded clod, and this spirit, delighted as it has hitherto been with the soothing delicacies of sense, and the pleasing ecstasies of youthful fancy, must bathe in fiery floods. This is peculiarly proper from a youth just snatcli'd from revelry and wantonness, to suff'er the anguish and horror of a shameful death," Seward's Preface to ed. 1750 of the Works of Beaumont and Eletcher, p. 68. Eor delighted, Thirlby and Upton proposed to read delinquent; and the following readings have also been suggested : dilated, benighted, delated, alighted. See further observations on the use of the word delighted in the notes to Othello. 136 NOTES TO THE THIED ACT. ^ To hathe in fiery fioods, Sfc. " The lake with liquid fire," Milton. Compare the Paradise Lost, ii. 595 — 003, and ii. 180. The ancient middle-age accounts of hell and purgatory pro- bably suggested the present description to Shakespeare, as they are found in many works of the sixteenth century. The following notices are extracted from the notes of the various critics. Ergo exercentur paetis, veterumque malorum Supplicia expendunt. AlijB panduntur inanes Suspensse ad ventos : aliis sub gurgite vasto Infectum eluitur scelus, aut exuritur igni. — Virgil. Virgil's expression is literally from Orpheus, whom Virgil has minutely followed in his description of the ^Egyptian initiation, as the author of the life of Sethos learnedly informs. " In the three trials of Eire, Water and Air, are plainly dis- covered the three purifications the Souls of Men were to go thro' before they returned to life ; which the greatest of the Latin poets borrowed from him [viz. Orpheus] in the sixth book of his ^neid ; Infectum eluitur sceliis, aut exuritur igni: not to omit the circumstance of suspension in the agitated air, or in the Avinds : Suspense ad ventos." Hierom in his comment on Matt. x. 28, writes, Buplicem esse gehennam, nimirum ignis et frigoris in Joh plenissime legimus, viz. Job, xxiv. 19. So Bede on Matt. c. xxiv. Quod dicit illic esse fletim et stridoreni gentium, duplicem poenam geliennae exprimit, ignis et frigoris : and afterwards cites the words of Job as rendered by the ancient interpreter, Ad calorem ignis transit ah aquis nkiuni. Compare Milton, Par, Lost, ut supra. These passages of Shakespeare and Milton will bear comparison with what Virgil has written of the punishment of tlie damned, from Plato's Phaedo. — Upton. Most certainly the ideas of a " spirit bathing in fiery floods," of residing " in thrilling regions of tliick-ribbed ice," or of being " imprisoned in the viewless winds," are not original in our author ; but I am not sure, that they came from the Platonick Hell of Virgil. The monks also had their hot and their cold hell ; " The fyrste is fyre that ever brenneth, and never gyveth lighte," says an old homily (Eestyvall drawen oute of Legenda Aurea, 1508) : — " The seconde is passyng colde, that yf a grete hylle of fyre were casten therin, it sholde torne to yce." One of their legends, aa'cII remembered in the time of Shakespeare, gives us a dialogue between a Bishop and a Soul tormented in a piece of ice, which was brought to cure a grete brenning lieate in his foot. Another tells us of the soul of a monk fastened to a rock, which the winds were to blow about for a twelve- month, and purge of its enormities. — Farmer. Lazarus, in the Shepherd's Calendar, is represented to have seen these particular modes of punishment in the infernal regions : — " Secondly, I have seen in hell a floud frozen as ice, wherein the envious men and women were plunged unto the navel, and then suddainly came over them aright cold and great wind that grieved and pained them right sore," &c. — Steevens. So in Dionysii Carthusiani liber de quatuor Hominis Novissimis, 1591, De poenis inferni : — " Sicut ignis ille est calidissimus, sic frigus infernate est vehementissimum Pensimus ergo qua intolerabile nobis esset una nocte frigidissimae hyemis nudo corpore stave in acre : aut congelari in aquis : quam acerbissima igitur pcena est infernalibus affligi, penetrari et congelari frigoribus nec tantae punitionis linem confidere aut habem . . . quia (ut ait scriptura) a nimio illo calore transeunt ad vivium aquas, hoc est, ad intenusissimura frigus." Whiston had a curious theory that the comets are so many hells, which in their trajectories carry the damned into the confines of the sun (to bathe in fiery floods), and then return with them beyond the orb of Saturn (to reside in thrdling NOTES TO THE THIRD ACT. 137 regions of thick-ribbed ice). Jonson, observes Blakeway, has a similar expression in his Catiline, " We're spirits bound in rihs of ice" The Essenes, a Jewish sect, believed that the wicked went to a dark and cold place (Prideaux, ad ann. 107.) It is difficult to decide whether Shakespeare is here alluding to the pains of hell or purgatory. May not the whole be a mere poetical rhapsody originating in the recollection of what he had read in books of Catholic divinity? for it is very certain that some of these were extremely familiar to him. Among them he might have seen a compilation on the pains of hell, entitled Examples Jiowe mortall synne maketh the synners inohedyentes to have many paynes and dolours within the fyre of hell ; black letter, no date, 12mo, and chiefly extracted from that once popular work, the Sermones ddscipuli, which contains at the end a promptuary of examples for the use of preachers. Erom this little volume it may be worth while to select the following passage, as according in some degree with the matter of Claudio's speech : — " he tolde that he sawe in heU a torment of an yzye ponde, where the soules the whiche therin were tormented cryed so horryble that they were herde unto heven," sign. B. iij. "And the sayde beest was upon a ponde full of strong yse, the which beest devoured the soules within his wombe in suche maner that they became as unto nothynge by the tormentes that they sufPred. Afterwarde he put them out of his wombe within the yse of the sayde ponde,''' sign. G. iij. " The caytyve was in syke wyse, for she myght not lielpe herself, the whiche herde terryble cryes and howlynges of soules," sign. H. And again, " and the devyll Avas bounde by every joynture of all his membres with great chaynes of yron and of copre brennyng. And of great torment and vehement woodnes whereof he was full, he turned hym from the one syde unto the other, and stretched out his handes in the multytude of the sayde soules, and toke them, and strayned them in lykewyse, as men may do a clustre of grapes in theyr handes for to make the wyne come forth. And in such maner he strayned them that he eyther brake theyr heedes, or theyr fete, or handes, or some other membres. Afterward he syghed and hlewe and dysperpeled the sayde soides into many of the tormentes of the fyre of hell," sign. H. iiij. The following lines from the sixth book of Phaer's Virgil might have furnished some materials on the occasion : . . . some hie in ayer doth hang in pinnes. Some fleeting ben in floods, and deepe in gulfes themselves they tier, Till sinnes away be washt, or clensed deer with p2irgin fire. In the old legend of St. Patrick's Purgatory, mention is made of a lake of ice and snow, into which persons were plunged up to their necks ; and in the Shepherd's Calendar, chap, xviii, there is a description of hell as " the rewarde of them that kepen the x. commaundements of the devyll," in which these lines occur : . a great froste in a water ronnes. And after a bytter wynde comes Whiche gothe through the soules with }Te ; Eendes with pokes pulle theyr flesshe ysondre, They fyght and curse, and eche on other wonder. Chaucer, in his Assemblie of Eoules, has given an abridgement of Cicero's Dream of Scipio ; and speaking of souls in hell, he says : — And breakers of the lawe, sothe to saine, And likerous folke, after that they been dede, Shnll whirle about the world alway in paine Till many a world be passed. ITT. 18 138 NOTES TO THE THIED ACT. The passage in Cicero is as follows : — " Eor the spirits of those who have addicted themselves to, and lived, as it were, the slaves of sensual pleasures, and who, seduced by every libidinous gratification, have violated all duties, human and divine, when separated from their bodies, are driven round the globe of the earth, and are not admitted into this place till after unceasing motion for many ages." It w^as not until the seventh century that the doctrine of purgatory was con- firmed, when " they held that departed soids expiated their sins by haths, ice, hanging in the air, &c.," says a cmious writer on this subject. See Douglas's Vitis Degeneris, 1668, 12mo, p. 77. With respect to the much contested and obscure expression of bathing the delighted spirit in fiery floods, Milton appears to have felt less difficulty in its construction than we do at present ; for he certainly remembered it when he made Comus say, one sip of this "Will hathe the drooping spirits in delight Beyond the bliss of dreams. With which may be compared the following lines in an elegy preserved in MS. HarL 367, fol. 155, pointed out by Mr. K. E. H. Mackenzie :— But sure th' immortal one belaves This wdshed soule in 's blissfull waves : HI comes too oft, when no man craves. The greater portion of this note, commencing, "it is difficult," is taken, with a few literal variations, from Douce. ■^^ In thrilling region. So the old copies. Mr. Knight retains the regions of the modern editors, but the original appears to me to be more forcible, and it is, unquestionably, Shake- speare's diction. To he imprison d in the vieioless winds. The word vieidess is again found in Milton's Comus, and Warton fancied it might be peculiar to that writer. It occurs also more than once m Pope. ^ lliat laicless and incertain thought imagines howling. " Conjecture sent out to wander without any certain direction, and ranging through possibilities of pain," Dr. Johnson. I think, observes Heath, the more elegant expression would be, Of those, whom laicless and uncertain thought Imagines holding. Mr. Pope's edition hath, uncertain thought, but tlien it is inconsistently joined wuth the verb jDlural, imagine. A paradise to what we fear of death. Who would lose, Tho' full of pain, this intellectual being. Those thouglits that Avander thro' eternity, To perish rather, swallow'd-up and lost In the Avide w^omb of uncreated night, Devoid of sense or motion. — Milton. For such a icarped slip of tdlderness. Wilderness is here used for wildness, the state of being disorderly. So, in the NOTES TO THE THIHD ACT. 139 Maid's Tragedy, 1619, — " And throws an unknown wilderness about me." Again, in Old Fortunatus, 1600 : — " But I in wilderness totter'd out my youth." The word, in this sense, is now obsolete, though employed by Milton, in his Paradise Lost, ix. 245, — The paths, and bowers, doubt not, but our joint hands Will keep from tcilderness with ease. — Steevens. Thy sin's not accidental, hut a trade. A trade, says Dr. Johnson, is here a custom, a practice, an established habit. The term was, indeed, used for occupation generally. Without great seekyng thou canst fynde All my whole trade, and all my wayes. CroJce's Vision of the Psalms, p. 41. — Long did I serve this lady, Long was my travel, long my trade to win her, With all the duty of my soul, I serv'd her. — Massinger. ^' Bo not satisfy your resolution with hopes that are fallible. That is, to use Malone's excellent paraphrase, — Do not satisfy or content yourself with that kind of resolution, which acquires strength from a latent hope that it will not be put to the test ; a hope that, in your case, if you rely upon it, will deceive you. — "Excusatione ofjiciiim scribendi explere, with excusing liimselfe to satisfie for the omitting of his duetie in writing," Cooperi Thesaurus, ed. 1584. Warbm-ton alters satisfy to falsify, — Do not deceive or weaken your resolution by deceptive expectations. " The word satisfy is often applied in common speech to the making up an account between two persons, and so in one sense is equivalent to discharging. Discharging, in another use of it, is synonymous to dismissing ; and then the passage is thus made out, — do not discharge or dismiss it for the sake of hopes wliich will disappoint you in the issue," Warburton's Letters, ed. 1809, p. 501. Hold you there. That is, continue in that resolution. — Br. Johnson. In good time. Equivalent here to, so be it, very well ; " « bonne heure, happily, luckily, fortunately, in good time," Cotgrave. The phrase occurs in Ignoramus, in bono tempo, ed. 1787, p. 119. Cf. vol. ii. p. 56. ^'^ The goodness, that is cheap in beauty. If beauty holds goodness (or virtue) cheap, such beauty wiU be brief in its own goodness, maintain it good a short time. — Capell. He made trial of you only. That is, he will assert he merely made trial of you. These elliptical phrases are very common. Thus, in a subsequent speech, — " You have paid the heavens your function." And again, — " my brother Angelo wiU not be alter'd," that is, his determination wiU. not be chanored. That you may most uprighteously. Some critics read uprightly, but the word in the text, although of unusual occurrence, is probably genuine. Virtue is bold, and goodness never fearful. Fearful, that is, timorous. " And faire Alarpha made a fearefuU hare," Ne^ e 140 NOTES TO THE THIRD ACT. Metamorphosis, c. 1600, MS. " Discerne with faithfull though with fearefuU eye," Zouch's Dove, 1G13. Her comhinate Jmshand. " Every Italian scholar," observes Mr. Eose, " understands lier comhinate liusband to mean, her husband elect; and at this hour there is nothing more commonly in an Italian's mouth than se si pno comhinarla (if we can bring it to bear), when speaking with reference to any futm-e arrangement." Bestoioed her on her oicn lamentation. That is, gave her up to her own sorrows. Malone once suggested to read, — " bestowed on her her own lamentation." ^'^ Only refer yourself to this advojitage. " This is scarcely to be reconciled to any established mode of speech. AVe may read, only reserve yourself to, or only reserve to yoiirself this adcantaye," Johnson. " liefer yourself to, merely signifies — have recourse to, betake yourself to, this advantage," Steevens. All her friends must share of my prodigality. To train up an innocent country girl, is like hatching a cuckoe ; as soon as she is ripe, and sees the M orld afore her, she flies at her advantage, and leaves me. — Brome's Northern Lass. ^'^ And the corrupt deputy scaled. The ordinary meaning of scaled, scaled as a fish, his scales of sanctity being stripped ofP, makes very good sense. The corrupt deputy will now be exhibited in his true light. "I scaale a fysshe, I scrape his scales of; you are a cooke for the nones, A\yll you sethe these roches or you have scaled them," Palsgrave, 1530. Another meaning of scale, to reach as in a scalade, also agrees with the context. " I scale a walle with a scalynge ladder," ibid. " To scale tlie deputy," observes Dr. Johnson, " may be, to reach him, notwithstanding the elevation of his place." There is yet another meaning of this verb which deserves notice, to disorder, to disconcert, to put to flight. It is exceedingly difficult to decide, in a case like the present, the exact interpretation of the use of the term as intended by the author, and Seymour, disregarding the meanings given above, imagines there is a refe- rence to physical or animal corruption, — the inward and concealed baseness of this deputy will be brought forth, and diff'used about him in disgraceful scales. The " diffus'd infection of a man," Bichard III. " It will but skin and film the ulcerous place," &c., Hamlet, ap. Ritson, avIio suggests that scaled may mean, laid open, as a corrupt sore is by removing the slough that covers it. The following note on the word is by Steevens : A measure of wine spilt, is called — " a scaVd pottle of wine," in Decker's comedy of the Honest Whore, 1604. So, in the Hystorie of Clyomon, Knight of the Golden Shield, a play published in 1599 : The hugie heapes of cares that lodged in my minde. Are skated from their nestling-place, and pleasures passage find. Again, in Decker's Honest Whore, — " Cut off his beard. — Eye, fye ; idle, idle ; he's no Erenchman, to fret at the loss of a little sca/'f/hair." In the North they say, scale the corn, i. e. scatter it : scale the muck well, i, e. spread the dung well. Again, Holinshed, vol. ii, p. 499, speaking of the retreat of the Welshmen during the absence of Eichard IL, says : " — they would no longer abide, but scaled and departed away." So again, p. 530: " whereupon their troops and fled their waies." In the learned Ruddiman's Glossary to Gawin Douglas's translation of Virgil, the following account of the word is given. Slcail, skate, to NOTES TO THE THIRD ACT. Ill scatter, to spread, perhaps from the Fr. escheveler, Ital. scapigliare, crines passes, seu sparsos habere. All from the Latin capillus. Thus escheveler, sclievel, shail; but of a more general signification. There, at the moated grange. A grange was, properly, a large store-house for farm produce ; but the chief farm-house on a large estate, or, indeed, any farming establishment, came to be so called. " In Lincolnshire," says Kennett (Cf. Skinneri Etym. in v.), " they call every lone-house, or farm that stands alone by itself, a grange," and this is pro- bably the sense here intended. " A grange where husbandrie is kept," Elyot's Dictionarie, ed. 1559, in v. Colonia. The term is still retained in the provincial names of houses. See further in the notes to Othello. " Till my return, I would have thee stay at our little graunge house in the country," Tarlton's Newes out of Purgatorie, 1590. These thus associated both in nature and nourture, accompanied the old countie to his house, where arriving they found a grange place, by situation melancholie, as seated in the middest of a thicket, form'd for one given to meta- phisical contemplation ; therefor such young gentlemen who desired rather to dance with Venus than to dream with Saturn, whose thoughts aimed not at the stoicke content of Pythagoras, but at an extensive conceite of honest pleasure whilst, contrarie to their expectation, in such a centurie cottage as they found. — Greene's Faretcell to Follie, 1591, as quoted by Gilchrist. All the world drink hrown and white hastard. The double meaning here intended will be apparent from a passage in Middleton's Faire Quarrell, 1617, — ''Chough. All this is Cornish to thee; I say thy daughter has drunk bastard in her time. — Rus. Bastard ? you do not mean to make her a whore." The wine so called is mentioned again in Henry IV. The following lines are extracted from a rare poem entitled, Pasquil's Palinodia and his progresse to the Taverne, where, after the Survey of the Sellar, you are presented with a pleasant Pynte of Poeticall Sherry, 4to. Lond. 1619, — Farre in the dungeon lyes a dainty youth. With his sweet brother, as their names make known. Unlawfully begotten in the South, And therefore are cal'd bastards, white and browne. For love to these have women beene convicted. And still unto them some are so addicted. Although with other drinks their minds are pleased. Yet without bastard they are never eased. ^° ^Twas never merry world. A proverbial expression. The old people in the Isle of Man, speaking of the disappearance of the phynnodderee, say " there has not been a merry world since he lost his ground." It was a merry world when Fidelity was master of this ship, Constancie his mate, and Plaine-dealing the boatswaine, but those worthy mariners are dead. — Taylors JVorhes, 1630. Since, of two usuries. Usuries, observes Dr. Johnson, may be used by an easy license for professors of usury. It may be that Shakespeare merely employs the term in the sense of occupations, as the French usure, " the wearing or occupation of a thing," Cotgrave. The two " usuries" meant are, of course, law and lechery, both of which are usurers, in the sense of their habit of extracting money. 142 NOTES TO THE THIHD ACT. And fund itUli fox and lamb-sMns too. In this passage the foxes skins are supposed to denote craft, and the lamb- skins innocence. It is evident, therefore, that we ought to read, " furred with fox on lamb-skins," instead of " and lamb-skins ;" for otherwise, craft will not stand for the facing. — M. Mason. Eox-skins and lamb-skins were both used as facings to cloth in Shakespeare's time. See the Statute of Apparel, 24 Henry YIII. c. 13. Hence fox-furrd slave is used as an opprobrious epithet in AYily Beguiled, IGOG, and in other old comedies. See also Characterismi, or Lenton's Leasm-es, 1631 : " An Usurer is an old fox, clad in lamh-sMn, who hath pray'd [prey'd] so long abroad," &c. — Malone. And you, good hrotlier father. In return to Elbow's blundering address of good father friar, that is good father brother, the Duke humorously calls him, in his own style, good Jjrother father. This would appear still clearer in French. Dieu vous benisse, mon pere frere. — Et vous aussi, mon frere pere. There is no doubt that our frio.r is a corruption of the Erench frere. — Tgnchitt. And I call to mind that as the reverend father brother Thomas Sequera, Superiour of Ebora and my auncient friend, came to visite me, I saying to him tliat I was much bound to Eather Vincent of Aphonseca. — Mundays Strangest Adventure that ever hajjj^ened either in the Ages passed or present, 1601. A strange pich-loch. As M'e hear no more of this charge, it is necessary to prevent honest Pompey from being taken for a house-breaker. The tocTis which he had occasion to pich, were by no means common, in this country at least. They were probably intro- duced, with other Spanish customs, during the reign of Piiilip and Mary ; and were so well known in Edinburgh, that in one of Sir David Lindsay's plays, represented to thousands in the open air, such a loch is actually opened on the stasfe. — llitson. In Ben Jonson's Volpone, Corvino threatens to make his wife wear one of these contrivances : — " Then, here's a loch, which I will hang upon thee." — Steevens. ®° From their abominable and beastly touches^ The last word is somewhat technical. So Ovid, — "At quae, cum cogi posset, non tacta recessit," &c. " In these places a man shall finde whom to love, whom to play with, whom to touch once, whom to hold ever," old translation of the lines which commence, " Illic invenies quod ames." I drinh, I eat, array myself, and live. The first folio reads, — "I drinke, I eate away my selfe, and liue." The requisite correction was made by Theobald. The Dent annotated folio reads, — " I drink, I eat, I 'ray myself, and live." Free from our faults, as faults from seeming free. The first word free is added in the second folio, possibly without absolute necessity, though I cannot persuade myself to reject it. The meaning of the speech is this — Oh that all of us were, as some appear to be, as free from our faults, as we seem to be in appearance free from them. Hanmer reads, — " Eree from all faults, as from faults seeming free." Johnson suggested, — " 0 that all were, as all would seem to be, Eree from all faults, or from false seeming free ;" or, afterwards, thus, — " Eree from all faults, or faults from seeming free ;" and j\[ason punctuates the line, — " Eree from all faults, as, faults from, seeming free." NOTES TO THE TIIIllD ACT. 143 His neck will come to your tcaist, a cord, sir. " That is, his neck will be tied, like your waist, with a rope. The friars of the Eranciscan order, perhaps of aU others, wear a hempen cord for a girdle. Thus Buchanan : Eac gemant suis, Variata terga funibus." — Johnson. None of Pygmalion s images, ne wly made icoman. Pygmalion's image, newly made woman, was of course a virgin. Lucio, with humorous verbosity, asks Pompey whether there are no virgins to be had for money — " How doth thy mistress ? — Procures she still ?" This appears to be the obvious meaning, but Malone's explanation is worth adding. Perhaps the meaning is, — Is there no courtezan, who being newly made woman, i. e. lately debauched, still retains the appearance of chastity, and looks as cold as a statue, to be had, &c. The following passage in Blurt Master Constable, a comedy by Middleton, 1602, seems to authorize this interpretation : — ''Laz. Are all these women? — Imp. No, no, they are half men, and half women. — Laz. You apprehend too fast. I mean by women, wives ; for wives are no maids, nor are maids icomenr — Mulier in Latin had precisely the same meaning. It is probable (?), after all, that Lucio simply means to ask the clown \ilic has no newly-coined money wherewith to bribe the officers of justice, alluding to the portrait of the queen. — Douce. '^^ Is't not drowned «' the last rain ? There can be little doubt but that this is a proverbial expression for being lost, but it may refer to " this tune," ready money, as Lucio may here be supposed to flourish his pm'se in the face of the Clown, or it may merely allude to Pompey's reply, which certainly may be said to have been drowned in the rain, for it is not forthcoming. Warburton unnecessarily reads, " is't not down i' the last reign."" Lucio is bantering poor Pompey, instead of trying to console him. The passage being somewhat obscure, the notes of Johnson and Steevens upon it are subjoined. Lucio, a prating fop, meets his old friend going to prison, and pours out upon him his impertinent interrogatories, to which, when the poor fellow makes no answer, he adds, "What reply? ha? what say'st thou to this? tune, matter, and method, — is't not? drown'd i' the last rain? ha? what say'st thou, trot?" &c. It is a common phrase used in low raillery of a man crest-fallen and dejected, that " he looks like a drown'd puppy." Lucio therefore asks him whether he was "drown'd i' the last rain," and therefore cannot speak. — Johnson. He rather asks him whether his answer was not drown'd in the last rain, for Pompey returns no answer to any of his questions : or, perhaps, he means to compare Pompey's miserable appearance to a drown d mouse. So, in King Henry VL, Part I., Act I. : — " Or piteous they will look, like drowned mice." — Steevens. What say'st thou, trot ? The term trot was generally applied in contempt to an old woman, and some- times to a bawd. If the text is correct, it is here used to Pompey with the implication of the utmost derision, as engaged in the occupation of a bawd. The word occurs again in the Taming of the Shrew. Dr. Grey suggests to read to' I, and Mr. Singer observes that toH is misprinted toot in Coriolanus. Jackson, 1 819, proposes troth. '^'^ Which is the tcay ? That is, which is the mode now ? — Johnson. How doth my dear morsel. Morsel was familiarly applied, generally but not always to a diminutive person, NOTES TO THE THIRD ACT. l)ut sometimes merely in great familiarity or contempt. " Yea, sometime that petty epitomie of wardemote enquerst, that little busie morsell of justice, the beadle of the ward, will make a strong partie in the election," Powell's Art of Thriving, 1635. "That morsell of man's flesh, shee cannot beat him away," Knave in Graine new Vampt, 16i0. The expression, a morsel of flesh, seems to be used in a wanton sense in Middleton's AYorks, ed. Dyce, ii. 113. '^^ She is herself in the tiih. The annexed representation of a sweating-tub is taken from the illustrated frontispiece to Cornelianum Dolium, 1638. "A ruin'd bawd, one ten times cured by sweating and the tub," is men- tioned in the Citie Match, fol. ed. p. 54^. " That disease made you to be roasted alive in old Cornelious his tub, and then stew'd between two feather- beds," New Erawle, or Turnmill- street against Bosemary Eane, 1654. DaveDant, in the Platonick Eovers, ed. 1673, p. 399, makes a joke of Diogenes, that when he took his abode in a tub, to make the world believe he liked a strict and severe life, " he took the diet, and, in that very tub, swet for the French disease." See further on the subject in the notes to Timon of Athens. The tub itself was grossly and jocularly called the powdering tub, a circumstance that explains the wit of the Clown and Lucio. This term is used also by Holme, in his Academy of Armory, 1688, in the following curious notice: — "He beareth Argent, a Doctors Tub, (otherwise called a Cleansing Tub,) Sable ; Hooped, Or. In this pockifyed and such diseased persons are for a certain time ])ut into, to stew, not to boyl up to an height, but to par-boyl ; from which diseases of llorhus Gallicus, Noli me tangere. Miserere mei, &c. and from such a Purgatory, Libera nos, Bomine ; let it be the prayers of all good people to be delivered from such a Pondering Tub." The engraving of the tub, given in illustration by Holme, is somewhat similar to the above, ojily narrower and apparently taller in proportion to the height of the patient. In the original title- page whence the above cut is taken, three courtezans are at the entrance of the door, the unfortunate man in the tub bidding them depart ; on a table near are several surgical instruments ; and on the tub itself appears the following legend, — " Sedeo in Veneris solio ; in dolio doleo." An unshunnd consequence. Unshumicl, inevitable, that cannot be shunned. For dell, Pompey ? Or hoio ? ^Varburton omits the notes of interrogation, reading, — " I sent thee thither for debt, Pompey, or how," that is, to hide the ignominy of thy case, say I sent thee to prison for debt, or whatever other pretence thou fanciest better. Elbow's answer seems to be decisive as to the truth of the ordinary mode of punctuating this speech. Lucio, says Steevens, " first off'ers him the use of his name to hide the seeming ignominy of his case, and then very naturally desires to be informed of the true reason why he was ordered into confinement." NOTES TO THE THIED ACT. 145 " Warburton has taken some pains to amend this passage, which does not require it ; and Lucio's subsequent reply to Elbow shows that his amendment cannot be rig-ht. When Lucio advises Pompey to say he sent him to the prison, and in his next speech desires him to commend him to the prison, he speaks as one who had some interest there, and was well known to the keepers," M. Mason. Eeed refers to Henry YL, — "Down, down to hell; and say, I sent thee thither." '^^ Toil will heep the house. A play upon words, to keep the house meaning, to keep within doors, as well as to take care of it, like a good economist. " Who cannot keep his wealth, must keep his house," Timon of Athens. " I kepe resydence, I abyde contynually in a place," Palsgrave, 1530. ''^ It is not the loear. That is, not the fashion. Dr. Johnson said of Hurd, Bishop of Worcester, — " Hurd, sir, is one of a set of men who account for everything systematically ; for instance, it has been a fashion to wear scarlet breeches ; these men would tell you that, according to causes and effects, no other loear could at that time have been chosen." The word has thus not long been obsolete. Then, Pompey, nor note. This is generally printed with a note of interrogation after the proper name, but unnecessarily, neither, as Malone correctly observes, being understood. So, afterwards, — " More nor less to others paying." ^° Go, to hennel, Pompey, go. " It should be remembered," observes Dr. Johnson, " that Pompey is the common name of a dog, to which allusion is made in the mention of a kennel." The name is now generally given to a Newfoundland or mastiff. He puts transgression to H. He puts transgression to its wit's end, or to the last shift, by the exercise of his new authority. — Anon. It is too general a vice. Dr. Grey suggests to read genteel, and Warburton, gentle, in place of general. " But the truth is," observes Edwards, " the old reading is right ; and the dialogue, before Warburton interrupted it, went on very well. A little more lenity to leachery, says Lucio, would do no harm in him ; the Duke answers, — It is too general a vice. Yes, replies Lucio, — the Yice is of great kindred, — it is well allied, &c. As much as to say, Yes, truly, it is general ; for the greatest men have it, as well as we little folks. And, a little lower, he taxes the Duke person- ally with it. Nothing can be more natural than all this." It is impossible to extirp it quite. Extirp, to extirpate, Lat. " She gave comman dement to the Lord Deputie to imploie his whole care, consideration, and wisedome, how such a cankred and dangerous rebell might be utterlie extirped," Holinshed, Chronicles of Ireland, foL 1586, p. 114 Let us the first precadent time examine, Youle find that hunger is the cause of famine ; The birds in summer that have sweetly chirped, Ere winter hath beene done, have beene extirped. — Taylor, 1630. III. 19 liG NOTES TO THE THIRD ACT. He is a motion generative. That is, a generative puppet, a person as generative as a puppet. Theobald suggests to read, tingenerative, — a moving or animated body, without the power of generation. The Dent annotated copy and Heath read, — " he has no motion generative." Upton suggests notion in the place motion, and Capell has, — " and he is not a motion generative." / never heard the dtiJce much detected for iconien. Detected, that is, accused, impeached, charged. The use of the verb detect is not unusual in this sense. Palsgrave, 1530, has, " I detacte, I sclaunder orbacke- byte, je scandalise'"' a meaning which also suits the passage in the text. " To detect or disclose, to appeach, to be^ATaie, to accuse," Baret's Alvearie, 1580. "An officer whose daughter was detected of dishonestie, and generally so reported," Copley's Wits, Fits, and Fancies, 1595, ap. Malone. " 1 mean not, in speaking this, to upbraid or detect Timoleon," North's Plutarch. " He only of all other kings in his time was most detected with this vice of leacherie," ibid. ''In the month of February, divers traiterous persons were apprehended, and detected of most wicked conspiracie against his Majesty," Stowe's Chronicle, ed. Howes, 1618, ap. Malone. It appears that they were only accused, not convicted of the crime. Thus, in a translation of the Annales of Tacitus, by Greenwey, 1G22 : — "A notable example, that a free'd woman shoidd defend, in such great crueltie of torture, strangers, and almost unknown to her, whenas men, and free-born, and gentlemen of Rome, and senators, not touched with tortures, detected the dearest of their kindred." — Sej/monr. In the Statute 3d Edward First, c. 15, the Avords " gentz rettez de felonie," are rendered " persons detected of felony," that is, as I conceive, suspected. — Reed. In this sense, perhaps, it is used in the infamous publication entitled A Detection, &c., of Mary Queen of Scots : " But quho durst accuse the Queue ? or (quhilk was in maner mair perilous) quho durst detect BothweU of sic a horrible offence ? " Again, in A Courtlie Controversie of Cupid's Cautels, translated from the French, &c., by H. W. [Henry "Wotton,] Gentleman, 4to. 1588 : "And in truth women are to be detected of no imperfection, jealousie only excepted." — Steevens. Again, in Rich's Adventures of Simouides, 1584, 4to : " — all Rome, detected of inconstancie." — Henderson. ^'^ To put a ducat in her clacJc-dish. The beggars and lazars of olden time signified their wants by the use of clap- pers and clap-dishes, or clack-dishes, the clapper being a wooden instrument with leaves, and the clap-dish a wooden dish with either a moveable cover, or with a piece of wood suspended from it for the purpose of rattling. The annexed ex- ceedingly curious represen- tations of a clap-dish and clapper were selected by Mr. Fairholt from an ancient French painting in the Ashmolean Museum, inscribed, " Je suis le pouer diable," and representing a devil dressed as a beggar. The ancient lazar's " cuppe and clappir" are twice mentioned in the Testament of Creseide, 343, 387, and still more curiously in the ComjDlaint of Creseide, — Go lerne to clappe thy clappir to and fro. And lerne aftir the lawe of lepirs lede. NOTES TO THE THIRD ACT. 147 And again, in a subsequent stanza, — Seing that companie come with o steven, Thei gave a crie, and shoke cuppis gode spede ; Worthie lordis, for Goddis love of heven. To us lepirs part of your almose dede. The old proverb, he claps his dish at a wrong man's door (Ben Jonson and Eay), evidently alludes to this custom ; and there is another phrase, still current in the provinces, — his tongue moves like a beggar's clap-dish (Eorby, i. 66). In the Demaundes Joyous, a collection of riddles printed by Wynkyn de Worde in the year 1511, one of the questions is, — " What wode is it that never flyes reste upon ? " The answer is, " the claper of a lazers dysshe." Jane Shore is repre- sented by Churchyard, in his Challenge, 1593, as carrying a clap-dish in her adversity, — Where I was wont the golden chaines to wear, A payre of beads about my necke was wound, A linnen cloth was lapt about my heare ; A ragged gowne that trailed on the ground, A dish that clapt, and gave a heavy sound, A staying staflPe, and wallet therewithal!, I beare about as witnesse of my fall. " It was once," observes Gifford, " the practice for beadles and other inferior parish officers, to go from door to door with a clap-dish, soliciting charity for those unhappy sufferers who are now better relieved by voluntary subscriptions." Thus Matheo, in the second part of the Honest Whore, 1630, " Must I be fed with chippings ? you were best get a clap-dish, and say you are proctor to some spittle-house." Malone quotes the following from Turbervile's Songs and Sonets, " as it de- scribes the fate which befel one of our author's characters :" — I naytheless will wish her well. And better than to Cressid fell ; I pray she may have better hap. Than heg her bread with dish and clap, As she the sielie miser did AVhen Troylus by the spittle rid. A custom is still kept up in the villages near Oxford, about Easter, for the poor people and children to go a clacking : tliey carry wooden bowls, salt boxes, &c., and make a rattling noise at the houses of the principal inhabitants, who give them bacon, eggs, &c. — Harris. The tongue is jocularly termed a clap-dish in Greenes Tu Quoque, or the Cittie Gallant, 4to., Dodsley, vii. 85 ; and in Kennett's time, the word was applied, in the Western counties, to " a wooden dish wherein they gather the toll of wheat and other corn in markets," — MS. Lansd. 1033. " He claps his dish at a wrong man's door," Eay's Collection of English Proverbs, ed. 1678, p. 239. The term clack was applied to "apeece of leather nay led over any hole, having apiece of lead to make it lie close, so that the ayre or water in any vessell may thereby be kept from going out." Ger. Can you think I get my living by a bell and a clack- dish ? — Dr^. By a bell and a clack-dish? how's that? — Ger. Why, by begging, sir. Know you me now? — Middletons Familie of Love, 1608. 148 NOTES TO THE THIRD ACT. That affects royalty, rising from a clapdish. Bussy d'Amhois, Old English Plays, iii. 281. I, that was wont so many to command, AYorse now than with a clap-dish in my hand : A simple mantle covering me withall. The veri'st leper of Care's hospitall ; That from my state a presence held in awe, Glad here to kenneU in a pad of straw. — Brayton. The clap-dish is still used on particular days by a society of widows, who subsist in ahns-houses, without the gate of York called Mickle-gate Bar. At those times they are allowed to beg from house to house, and enforce their suppli- cations in the ancient manner, by clattering this wooden dish. Their dish has no cover, but the noise is made by a kind of button suspended by a string from the bottom, and occasionally sliaken within it. The clap-dish was also termed a clicket. See Cotgr. in cliquette, " a clicket or clapper, such as lazers carrie about Avith them." It was used, I believe, originally, by lepers and other paupers deemed infectious, that the sound might give warning not to approach too near, and alms be given without touching the object. In a curious account of an escape of Corn. Agrippa, taken from one of his epistles, a boy who is to personate a Lazar is "leprosorum clapello adornatus," furnished with a clap-dish like a leper, which has such an effect, that the rustics fly from him as from a serpent, and throw their alms upon the ground. He afterwards returns to his employers " clapello prsesen- tiam suam denuncians," Schellhorn Amcen. ii. 580. — Kares. Thou art the ugliest creature ; and when trimm'd up To the height, as thou imagin'st, in mine eyes, A leper with a clap- dish (to give notice He is infectious), in respect of thee. Appears a young Adonis. — 3Iassiuger, ii. 257. " Enter Mrs. Blague, poorly drest, begging with her basket and clap-dish," — Heywood's Edward IV., 1600. Sir, I teas an inward of his. Biward is intimate. So, in Daniel's Hymen's Triumph, 1623 : — " You two were wont to be most inward friends." Again, in Marston's Malcontent, 1604 : — " Come, we must be inward, thou and I all one." — Steevens. ''Accoquine, made tame, inward, familiar," Cotgrave. " Yery special and inward friends," Eachard's Observations, 8vo. 1671, p. 21. Sqii. I speak by a figure, Humphry : For to be inward with, or indeed within a mistress, is to be a servant in the most courtly phrase. — B/ome's Northern Lass. A shy fellow icas the duke. Dr. Grey, and one annotated folio, read, sly fdloic ; but, as is correctly observed by Mr. R. G. AYhite, shjTiess is a marked trait of the Duke's character, and Lucio terms him elsewhere " the old fantastical duke of dark corners." Compare also a passage in the fifth act, — "the wicked'st caitiff on the ground may seem as shy, as grave," &c. The reading sly is introduced into the text in Hanmer's edition, 1741, i. 341. Hie greater file of the subject. File, list, number. The term seems to have been specially applied to the common people. " The common file of subjects," Shirley's Doubtful Heir. NOTES TO THE THIHD ACT. 149 °° Superficial, ignorant, unweighing fellow. Unweighing, that is, inconsiderate. So, in the Merry Wives of Windsor : " What an unweighed behaviour hath this Flemish drunkard pick'd out of my conversation," &c. — Steevens. The business he hath helmed. Helmed, steered through, a metaphor taken from navigation. — Steevens. And knowledge with dearer love. All the old editions read deare or dear. The substitution of the comparative appears to be necessary to the sense. Too unhurtf'ul an opposite. Opposite, that is, opponent, adversary. So, in King Lear : " thou wast not bound to answer an unknown opposite'' — Steevens. The term was in use in Charles the Second's time. See the Woman turn'd Bully, p. 38. — Reed. For filling a hottle with a tun-dish. For making that full which ought to be, and was made for to be, filled. The tun-dish is still in use, though the term itself may now be considered provincial. " The second is a Tunning Dish, some term it a Eulling or Filling Dish ; for, by the help of it, liquor is poured into vessels with small holes, without the least shew of spilling, by putting the pipe of the dish into the hole of the vessel, and so pouring the liquor into the dish, which immediately runs into the vessel," Holme's Academy of Armory, 1688, from which work the annexed cut of a tun-dish is taken. This ungenitur' d agent. " This word seems to be formed from genitoirs, a word which occurs in Holland's Pliny, tom. ii. pp. 331, 560, 589, and comes from the French genitoires, the genitals," ToUet. " The genetoirs of a stag, kept untill they be drie, and taken in urine, is a singular countrepoyson," Pliny, 1601, ib. " Genitories, vi. the genitals," Minsheu, ed. 1627. Sparrows must not build in his house-eaves. ''A. WiU it please you, sir, to eate of a couple of sparrowes ? — P. Out alas ! they exceed aU other creatures in heate ; besides, as 1 have alwayes hated lust, so have I ever hated this creature," Passenger of Benvenuto, 1613. " The sparowe is an unstedfaste byrde with voyce and jangelynge, and makeththeyr nestes nyghe to dwellynges and habytations of men ; and is a ful bote byrde and lecherous ; and the fleshe of them ofte taken in meate excyteth to carnall luste," Bertholomeus de Proprietatibus Eerum, Berthelet's edition, 1535. The sparrow is called "Yenus son" in the Assemble of Foules, 351. There is a joke, similar to that in the text, in Bickerstaffe's Hypocrite, 1768. ^'^ This Claudio is condemned fior untnissing. To untruss was to untie the tags which united the doublet and hose. AUusions of this kind are very common. The duTce would eat mutton on Fridays. That is, notwithstanding it was a fast-day. " One which is not fedd so ofte with rost befe, as with rawe motten, so God helpe me," Roy's Satire on Cardinal Wolsey, ap. Steevens. " 1 am one that loves an inch of raw mutton better than 150 NOTES TO THE THIRD ACT. an ell of Friday stock-fish, and the first letter of my name begins with letchery," Doctor Eaustus, 1604. To steal mutton, that is, to steal a wench, Middleton, ed. Dyce, iii. 102 (cf. iv. 23). ''Bt'igaille, a noteable smel-sraocke or muttonmungar, a cunning solicitor of a wench," Cotgrave. " The old lecher hath gotten holy mutton to him ; a nun, my lord," Eriar Bacon and Eriar Bungay, 159-1. Ac- cording to Brockett, Glossary, ed. 1846, ii. 48, the term is still in use in the Xorth of England. See also, vol. ii. p. 42, and compare Taylor, the Water- Poet, Workes, fol. Lond. 1630,— And then the proverbe proves no lye or mocke. One scabbed sheep's enough to spoyle a flocke, But yet for all this, there is many a gull, Loves mutton weU, and dips his bread i' the wooll, And were a man put to his choyce to keepe, 'Tis said, a shrew is better then a sheepe. But if a man be yok'd with such an ewe, She may be both a scabbed sheepe and shrew. Hes now past it. Hanmer unnecessarily reads, — " he's not past it yet." This alteration is derived from a misapprehension of the exact force of the word ijet, which is here the adverb, not the conjunction. Though she smelt hroicn bread and garlich. "We should now write, smelt of, but a similar phraseology occurs in the Merry Wives of Windsor, act iii. — " he smells April and May." Compare Powell's Art of Thriving, 1635, p. 93, — " if the clowne be predominant, he willsmeU all browne bread and garlicke." Lucio's reason perhaps for so pertinaciously accusing the Duke of lechery, is the desire to render Claudio's crime more venial. Double and treble admonition. The author was probably thinking of Scripture, — " Reject him that is an heretick, after once or twise admonition," Titus, iii. 10, ed. 1640. And still forfeit in the same hind. "I iovhjte, je fo?fais ; what have I forfayted agaynst you, I never dyd you displeasure that I wotte of," Palsgrave, 1530. This would make Mercy sicear, and play the tyrant. The first part of this image is somewhat too familiar, but is to be literally interpreted, in the same sense as the old proverbial phrase, " enough to make a saint swear," in other words, as Steevens observes, deviate from the sanctity of his character. There is a somewhat similar passage in As You Like It, — " Patience herself would startle at this letter, and play the swaggerer." Compare, also, Beaumont and Eletcher's King and No King, — " This would make a saint swear like a soldier." AVarburton proposes to reads«cm-e, and Earmer, severe. "Ovil- lenous cooke, able to anger a saint," Elorio's Second Erutes, 4to. Lond. 1591, p. 53. " The old belief certainly was that tyrants in general swore lustily ; but here seems to be a particular allusion to the character of Herod, in the mystery of The Slaughter of the Innocents, formerly acted by the city companies in their pageants, and of which those for Chester and Coventry are still preserved in the British ^luseum. In this curious specimen of our early drama, Herod is made to swear by Mahound, by cockes blood, &c. He is uniformly in a passion throughout the piece ; and this, according to the stage direction, ' Here Erode ragis,' is exemplified by some extraordinary gesticulation," Douce. NOTES TO THE THIED ACT. 151 Come Philip and Jacoh. That is, on the arrival of the feast of Philip and James, Apostles, May 1st. This day is called that of Philip and Jacob in the old calendars, as in tlie Proper Tables and easie Rules, printed by John Walley, 1582. Compare also, Tusser, in his May's Husbandry, ed. 1812, p. 149. Late C07Jie from the see. The four folios read Sea, which is merely the old spelling of the word. Theobald prints see, and in the Dent annotated copy the modern orthography is noted. Malone observes that see is frequently printed sea in Hall's Chronicle. ^^'^ As it is as dangerous. This is one of the numerous instances of redundant particles to be met with in Shakespeare. It is somewhat singular that, having been omitted for two centuries, it should have been restored by a recent editor with an erroneous expla- nation. The meaning implied is that it is dangerous not to vary with the times, not to accommodate oneself to the constant changes of public opinion. ^^'^ But security enough to make fellowships accursd. Shakespeare here plays upon the double meaning of the word security, safety and suretiship. "The speaker here alludes to those legal securities into which fellowship leads men to enter for each other. So, in King Henry IV., Part II. : ' He would not take his bond and yours ; he liked not the security^ Ealstaff, in the same scene, plays, like the Duke, on the same word : ' I had as lief they should put ratsbane in my mouth, as oifer to stop it with security. I look'd he should have sent me two and twenty yards of satin, — and he sends me security. Well, he may sleep in security^ &c.," Malone. The sense is, — There scarcely exists sufficient honesty in the world to make social life secure ; but there are occasions enough where a man may be drawn in to become surety, which will make him pay dearly for his friendships. In excuse of this quibble, Shakespeare may plead high authority : " He that hateth sureti- ship is sure'' Prov. xi. 15. — Holt White. And noic is he resolved to die. Resolved, that is, made up in mind ; his mind is determined on, or prepared for, death. It is the common meaning, as in Cotgrave, in v. Deliberer, " to pur- pose, resolve, determine." Thus, observes Douce, the allegorical romance of Le chevalier delihere was translated into English in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, under the title of the Resolved Gentleman; and into Spanish by that of // cavalero determinado. Reed cites a passage from Middleton, — " The blessing of perfection to your thoughts, lady, for I'm resolved they are good ones," where resolved may be explained, convinced in my own mind, a meaning analogous to that above given. He is indeed — justice. Summum jus, summa injuria. — Steevens. He, who the sword of Heaven will hear. Sword is here figuratively used for power and authority, as it is several times in the Scriptures. The expression seems to be used more literally in the Cobler's Phrophesie, 1594. Pattern in himself to hnow. To feel that by his own conduct he is an example to others in his own person, that he has grace to stand firm amidst the temptations of the world, and endowed with virtue in which he passes through life. The paraphrase may be continued 152 NOTES TO THE THIED ACT. thus : — Judging others by the light of his own conscience, in proportion as he liiiuself has committed errors of a similar description : Shame be to him, whose cruel ])unishment is inflicted for crimes to which lie also is attached ; Twice treble shame fall on Angelo, Avho extirpates my error of want of severity, but gives way to his own criminal lust : O, what impiety may be hidden in a man's heart, not- witlistanding the apparent exterior of sanctity : How may hypocrisy thus indulge itself in crimes, imposing on the credulity of the age to obtain the gratification of the grossest and most absolute desires under the slender web of deceptive appearances : I must use artifice to oppose vice : Angelo's old betrothed and despised love to-night shall lie with him : In tliis way disguise (I, a disguised friar) shall, by the agency of a lady disguised, meet an injurious demand by a stratagem, and complete an old betrothment. Tlie only alteration made in the whole speech is in the word icade, which is misprinted made in the folio, and may be fairly considered one of the numerous exam})les of errors made by the early printers in regard to words commencing with the letter w. Thus, in Macbeth, ed. 1623, waij is misprinted mat/, and in Henry V., ice is misprinted me. Compare Beaumont and Fletcher, ed. Dyce, iv. 140. This emendation was first suggested by Malone. Various other alterations, 1 believe all of which are unnecessary, have been proposed in some lines of the present speech. Dr. Johnson suggested, — Patterning himself to know, In grace to stand, in virtue go ;" Warburton, — " How may that likeness, made in crimes," omitting the sign of the infinitive in the next line but one ; Jackson, " malce sin practice on the times ;" Heath, — " How may such like- ness trade in crimes ;" Malone, at a later period, read, — "How may likeness, made in crimes, mocVmcj, practice on th.e times;" and the Perkins MS., — "virtue to go . mashing practice on the times." Mr. Knight retains the old text abso- lutely, and it is possibly to be defended on the sup])osition that the sign of the infinitive in the line, " To draw with idle spiders' strings," is redundant, as in an example quoted in vol. i. p. 274. It may be just worth while to notice in con- clusion a wild conjecture in A Concordance to Shakespeare, suited to all the Editions, 8vo. Lond. 1787, p. 188, — "Pattern in himself, to show grace and virtue : Stand or go," repeated by the author, Andrew Becket, in his Shakspeare's Himself Again, 1815, i. 233. The expression " wade in crimes" may probably be found in a variety of authors, but the only instance that at present occurs to me is in Middleton's Eamilie of Love, 1G08, — " nor wade no farther into the cream-pots of this woman's crime," ed. Dyce, AVorks, ii. 201. " Women that wade in sinne," Armin's History of the two Maids of More-clacke, 1609. 0, what authority and show of truth Can cunning sin cover itself withal ! — Much Ado. '■'Pattern in himself to know, is, to experience in his own bosom an original principle of action, which, instead of being borrowed or copied from others, might serve as a pattern to them. Our author, in the Winter's Tale, has again used the same kind of imagery : " By the pattern of mine own thoughts I cut out The purity of his. " In the Comedy of Errors he uses an expression equally hardy and licentious : — 'And will have no attorney but myself;' which is an absolute catachresis : an at- torney importing precisely a person appointed to act for another. In Every Woman in her Humour, 1609, we find the same expression : " — he hath but shown A pattern in himself, what thou shaU find In others." — Malone. NOTES TO THE THIRD ACT. 153 To iveed my vice, and let his grow. To weed my vice, and let his grow, i. e., to weed faults out of my dukedom, and yet indulge himself in his own private vices. So, in the Contention betwyxte Churchyeard and Camell, 1560 : For Cato doth afFyrme, Ther is no greater shame, Than to reprove a vyce. And your selves do the same. — Steevens. My, does not, I apprehend, relate to the Duke in particular, who had not been guilty of any vice, but to an indefinite person. The meaning seems to be — " to destroy by extirpation" (as it is expressed in another place) a fault that I have conmiitted, and to suffer his own vices to grow to a rank and luxuriant height. Tiie speaker, for the sake of argument, puts himself in the case of an offending person. — Malone. The Duke is plainly speaking in his own person. What he here terms my vice, may be explained from his conversation with Eriar Thomas, and especially " — 'twas my fault to give the people scope." The vice of Angelo requires no ex- planation.— Henley. Though angel on the outicard side. Here we see what induced the author to give the outward sainted deputy the name of Angelo. — Malone. III. 20 SCENE I. — A Room in Mariana's House Mariana discovered siitiny; a Boy smgiiig SONG. Take, oli take those lips away,^ That so sweetly were forsworn ; And those eyes, the break of day, Lights that do mislead the morn ; But my kisses bring again, Bring again, — Seals of love, but seal'd in vain," Seal'd in vain. Mari. Break off thy song, and haste thee quick away; Here comes a man of comfort, whose advice Ilath often still'd my hrawHng discontent. — {Exit Boy. Enter Duke. I cry you mercy, sir ; and well coukl wish, You had not found me here so musical : Let me excuse me, and believe me so, — INIy mirth it much displeas'd, but pleas'd my woe.'^ Ihihe. 'Tis good : though music oft hath such a charm. To make bad good, and good provoke to harm. 15G MEASURE FOR MEASURE. [act IV. sc. I. I pray you, tell me, hatli anybody inquir'd for me here to-day? Much upon this time have I promised here to meet. Mart. You have not been inquir'd after : I have sat here all day. Eiitei' Isabella. Diihe. 1 do constantly believe you :^ — The time is come, even now. I shall crave your forbearance a little ; may be, I will call upon you anon, for some advantage to yoiu'self. 31 art. I am always bound to you. [^Exit. JDtthe. Xery well met, and Avelcome :° What is the news from this good deputy? Isah. He hath a garden cireummur'd with brick, Whose western side is with a vineyard back'd ; And to that vineyard is a planched gate,^ That makes his opening with this bigger key: This other doth command a little door. Which from the vineyard to the garden leads ; There have I made my promise,^ upon the Heavy middle of the night to call upon him. Dtthe. But shall you on your knowledge find this way? Isah. I have ta'en a due and wary note upon 't ; With Avhispering and most guilty diligence, In action all of precept,^ he did show me The way twice o'er. IJtikc. Are there no other tokens Between you 'greed, concerning her observance ? Isah. No, none, but only a repair i' the dark ; And that I have possess'd him,^*^ my most stay Can be but brief : for I have made him know, I have a servant comes with me along, That stays upon me whose persuasion is, I come about my brother. Dtike. 'Tis well borne up. I have not vet made known to jMariana A word of this : — What, ho ! within ! come forth ! Re-enter Mariana. I pray you, be acquainted with this maid ; She comes to do you good. Isah. I do desire the like. l)t(ke. Do you persuade yourself that I respect you ? ACT IV. SC. n.J MEASURE EOR MEASUEE. 157 Marl. Good friar, I know you do ; and have found it. Diike. Take then this your companion by the hand, Who hath a story ready for your ear: I shall attend your leisure but make haste ; The vaporous night approaches. Mari. Will 't please you walk aside ? \Exeunt Mariana and Isabella. Duke. O place and greatness, millions of false eyes^* Are stuck upon thee ! volumes of report Run with these false and most contrarious quests^' Upon thy doings ! thousand escapes of wit Make thee the father of their idle dream, And rack thee in their fancies I^*^ — Welcome ! How ! agreed ? Re-enter Mariana and Isabella. Isah. She '11 take the enterprise upon her, father, If you advise it. Diike. It is not my consent. But my entreaty too. Imh. Little have you to say. When you depart from him, but, soft and low, "Remember now my brother." Mari. Fear me not. Duke. Nor, gentle daughter, fear you not at all : He is your husband on a pre-contract : To bring you thus together, 't is no sin ; Sith that the justice of your title to him Doth flourish the deceit.^' Come, let us go; Our corn's to reap, for yet our tithe's to sow.^^ \Exeant SCENE II. — A Room in the Prison. Enter Provost and Clown. Prov. Come hither, sirrah: Can you cut off a man's head? Clo. If the man be a bachelor, sir, I can : but if he be a mar- ried man, he 's his wife's head,^'' and I can never cut off a woman's head. Prov. Come, sir, leave me your snatches, and yield me a direct answer. To-morrow morning are to die Claudio and Barnardine."° Here is in our prison a common executioner.^yho 158 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. [act IV. sc. II. in liis office lacks a helper : if you will take it on you to assist liiui, it shall redeem you from your gyves; if not, you shall have vour full time of imprisonment, and your deliverance with an unpitied whipping;'^ for you have been a notorious bawd. Clo. Sir, I have been an unlawful bawd, time out of mind ; but yet I will be content to be a lawful hangman. I would be glad to receive some instruction from my fellow partner. Prov. What ho, Abhorson ! Where's Abhorson, there? Enter Abhorson. Abhor. Do you call, sir? Prov. Sirrah, here 's a fellow will help you to-morrow in your execution. If you think it meet, compound with him by the year, and let him abide here with you ; if not, use him for the present, and dismiss him. He cannot plead his estimation with vou ; he hath been a bawd. AhJior. A bawd, sir? Fie upon him, he will discredit our mystery."" Prov. Go to, sir ; you weigh equally ; a feather will turn the scale. [Exit. Clo. Pray, sir, by your good favour (for, surely, sir, a good favour' you have, but that you have a hanging look), do you call, sir, your occupation a mystery? Abhor. Ay, sir; a mystery. Clo. Painting, sir, I have heard say, is a mystery; and your whores, sir, being members of my occupation, using painting, do ])rove my occupation a mystery : but what mystery there should be in hanging, if I should be hang'd, I cannot imagine. Abhor. Sir, it is a mystery. Clo. Proof? Abhor. Every true man's apparel fits your thief~^ — Clo. If it be too little for your thief,"' your true man thinks it big enough ; if it be too big for your thief, your thief thinks it little enough : so every true man's apparel fits your thief. Re-enter Provost. Prov. Are you agreed? Clo. Sir, I will serve him; for I do find, your hangman is a more penitent trade than your bawd; he doth oft'ner ask for- giveness."" Prov. \ ou, sirrah, provide your block and your axe to-morrow, four o'clock. ACT IV. sc. II.] MEASURE FOU MEASURE. 159 Abhor. Come on, bawd ; I will instruct thee in niy trade ; follow. Clo. I do desire to learn, sir; and, I hope, if you have occasion to use me for your own turn, you shall find me yare for, truly, sir, for your kindness I owe you a good turn.^^ Prov. Call hither Barnardine and Claudio : \_Exeunt Clown Abhorsox. Th' one has my pity ; not a jot the other. Being a murderer, though he were my brother. Enter Claudio. Look, here 's the warrant, Claudio, for thy death : 'T is now dead midnight, and by eight to-morrow Thou must be made immortal. Where's Barnardine? Claud. As fast lock'd up in sleep, as guiltless labour When it lies starkly in the traveller's bones : He will not wake. Prov. Who can do good on him? Well, go, prepare yourself. But hark, what noise? [A noise of knocking heard fi'oru within. Heaven give your spirits comfort! \_Exit Claudio. By and by : — I hope it is some pardon, or reprieve. For the most gentle Claudio. — Welcome, father. Enter Duke. Duke. The best and wholsom'st spirits of the night Envelop you, good provost! Who call'd here of late? Prov. None, since the curfew rung.^^ Duke. Not Isabel! Prov. No. Duke. They will then, ere 't be long.^" Pi^ov. Wliat comfort is for Claudio? Duke. There 's some in hope. Prov. It is a bitter deputy. Duke. Not so, not so ; his life is parallel'd Even with the stroke and line of his great justice He doth with holy abstinence subdue That in himself, which he spurs on his power To qualify in others were he meal'd^^ with that Which he corrects, then were he tyrannous; But this being so, he 's just.^* — Now are they come. — [Knocking icithin. — The Provost goes out. IfiO MEASUEE EOH MEASrEE. [act IV. sc. II. This is a gentle provost: Seldom Avlien^' The steeled gaoler is the friend of men. — How now? What noise? That spirit 's possessed with haste, That wounds th' unsisting postern with these strokes. [^Fhe Provost returns, speah'mfj to one at the door. Prov. There he must stav, until the offieer Arise to let him in; he is call d up. Duhe. Have you no countermand for Claudio jet, But he must die to-morrow? Prov. None, sir, none. Duke. As near the dawning, provost, as it is. You shall hear more ere morning. Prov. Happily, You something know; yet, I believe, there comes No countermand; no such example have we: Besides, upon the very siege of justice,'^' Ijord Angelo hath to the public ear Profess'd the contrary. Enter a Messenger. Duke. This is his lord's man.^^ Prov. And here comes Claudio's pardon. Mess. ]My lord hath sent you this note ; and by me this fur- ther charge, that you swerve not from the smallest article of it, neither in time, matter, or other circumstance. Good morrow ; for, as I take it, it is almost day. Prov. I shall obey him. \_Exit Messenger. Duhe. This is his pardon, purchas'd by such sin, [Aside. For which the pardoner himself is in :^'' Hence hath offence his quick celerity AVlien it is borne in high authority: AVhen vice makes mercy, mercy 's so extended, That for the fault s love, is th' offender friended. — Now, sir, what news? Prov. I told you : Lord xlngelo, belike, thinking me remiss in mine office, awakens me with this unwonted putting on:^^ me- thinks, strangely; for he hath not us'd it before. Duke. Pray you, let 's hear. Prov. [Reads.'] " Whatsoever you may hear to the contrar}% let Claudio be executed hy four of the clock ; and, in the afternoon, Barnardine : for my better satisfaction, let ms have Claudio's head sent me by five. Let this be duly performed ; with a ACT IV. SC. II.] MEASURE EOE MEASURE. 161 thought, tliat more depends on it than we must yet deliver. Thus fail not to do your office, as you will answer it at your peril." What say you to this, sir? Duke. What is that Barnardine, who is to be executed in th' afternoon ? Prov. A Bohemian born, but here nurs'd up and bred : one that is a prisoner nine years old.*^ Duke. How came it, that the absent duke had not either dehver'd him to his hberty, or executed him? I have heard it was ever his manner to do so. Prov. His friends still wrought reprieves for him : and, indeed, his fact, till now in the government of lord Angelo, came not to an undoubtful proof. Duke. It is now apparent?*^ Prov. Most manifest, and not denied by himself. Duke. Hath he borne himself penitently in prison? How seems he to be touch'd? Prov. A man that apprehends death no more dreadfully but as a drunken sleep ; careless, reckless, and fearless of what 's past, present, or to come ; insensible of mortality, and desperately mortal. Duke. He wants advice. Prov. He will hear none ; he hath evermore had the liberty of the prison ; give him leave to escape hence, he would not : drunk many times a day, if not many days entirely drunk. We have very oft awak'd him, as if to carry him to execution, and show'd him a seeming warrant for it : it hath not moved him at all. Duke. More of him anon. There is written in your brow, provost, honesty and constancy: if I read it not truly, my ancient skill beguiles me ; but, in the boldness of my cunning,*' I will lay myself in hazard.**' Claudio, whom here you have warrant to execute, is no greater forfeit to the law than Angelo, who hath sentenc'd him. To make you understand this in a manifested effect, I crave but four days' respite ; for the which, you are to do me both a present and a dangerous courtesy. Prov. Pray, sir, in Avhat ? Duke. In the delaying death. Prov. Alack! how may I do it? having the hour limited, and an express command, under penalty, to deliver his head in the view of Angelo ? I may make my case as Claudio's, to cross this in the smallest. m. 21 162 MEASUEE EOR MEASUEE. [act IV. sc. II. Duke. By the vow of mine order I warrant you, if niy instructions may be your guide. Let this Barnardine be this morning executed, and his head borne to Angelo. Prov. Angelo hath seen them both, and will discover the favour. Duke. O, death 's a great disguiser : and you may add to it. Shave the head, and tie the beard and say, it was the desire of the penitent to be so bar'd before his deatli.'^ You know the course is common. If anything fall to you upon this more than thanks and good fortune, by the saint whom I profess, I will plead against it with my life. Prov. Pardon me, good father, it is against my oath. Duke. Were you sworn to the duke, or to the deputy? Prov. To him, and to his substitutes. Duke. You will think you have made no offence, if the duke avouch the justice of your dealing? Prov. But what likelihood is in that? Duke. Not a resemblance, but a certainty. Yet since I see you fearful, that neither my coat, integrity, nor persuasion, can with ease attempt you, I will go further than I meant, to pluck all fears out of you. Look you, sir, here is the hand and seal of the duke. You know the character, I doubt not ; and the sio-net is not strano:e to you. Prov. I knoAv them both. Duke. The contents of this is the return of the duke ; you shall anon over-read it at your pleasure : where you shall find, within these two days he will be here. This is a thino- that Ano-elo knows not : for he this very day receives letters of strange tenor : perchance, of the duke's death ; perchance, entering into some monastery; but, by chance, nothing of what is writ.^'^ Look, th' unfolding star calls up the shepherd. ^° Put not yourself into amazement how these things should be : all difficulties are but easy when they are known. Call your executioner, and off with Barnardine's head : I will give him a present shrift, and advise him for a better place. Yet you are amaz'd : but this shall absolutely resolve you. Come away; it is almost clear dawn. [Exeunt. ACT IV. SC. III.] MEASURE EOE MEASIJEE. 163 SCENE III. — Another Room in the same. Enter Clown. Clo. I am as well acquainted here, as I was in our house of profession one would think it were mistress Overdone's own house, for here he many of her old customers. First, here 's young master Rash he 's in for a commodity of brown paper '* and old ginger, ninescore and seventeen pounds ; of which he made five marks, ready money: marry, then, ginger was not much in request,'" for the old women were all dead. Then is there here one master Caper, at the suit of master Three-pile the mercer,^" for some four suits of peach-colour'd satin, ' which now peaches him a beggar. Then have we here young Dizy, ' and young master Deep-vow, and master Copper-spur, and master Starve-lackey, the rapier and dagger man, and young Drop-heir that killed lusty Pudding, and master Forthright,"'' the tilter, and brave master Shoe-tie,''" the great traveller, and wild Half-can''^ that stabb'd pots, and, I think, forty more ; all great doers in our trade,^' and are now for the Lord's sake.^^ Enter Abhorson. Abhor. Sirrah, bring Barnardine hither. Clo. Master Barnardine ! you must rise and be hang'd, master Barnardine ! Abhor. What ho, Barnardine ! Barnar. [JVithin.'] A pox o' your throats ! Who makes that noise there? What are you? Clo. Your friend, sir, the hangman. You must be so good, sir, to rise and be put to death. Barnar. SJVithin^ Away, you rogue, away! I am sleepy. Abhor. Tell him he must awake, and that quickly too. Clo. Pray, master Barnardine, awake till you are executed, and sleep afterwards. Abhor. Go in to him, and fetch him out. Clo. He is coming, sir, he is coming ; I hear his straw rustle. Enter Barnardine. Abhor. Is the axe upon the block, sirrah?^* Clo. Very ready, sir. Barnar. How now, Abhorson? what 's the news wdth you? 16i MEASUEE EOE MEASL'EE. [act iv. sc. hi. Abhor. Truly, sir, I would desire you to clap into your prayers for, look you, the warrant 's come. Bm'nar. You rogue, I haye been drinking all night ; I am not fitted for 't. CIo. O, the better, sir ; for he that drinks all night, and is hanged betimes in the morning, may sleep the sounder all the next day. Enter Duke. Abhor. Look you, sir^ here comes your ghostly father. Do we jest now, think you ? Duhe. Sir, induced by my charity, and heariu": how hastily you are to depart, I am come to advise you, comfort you, and pray with you. Barnar. Friar, not I ; I have been drinking hard all night, and I will have more time to prepare me, or they shall beat out my brains Avith billets : I will not consent to die this day, that "s certain. Dide. O, sir, you must : and therefore, I beseech you, look forward on the journey you shall go."" Barnar. I swear, I Avill not die to-day for any man's persuasion. DuJi'e. But hear you, — Barnar. Not a word ; if you have anything to say to me, come to my ward ; for thence will not I to-day. [Ewit. Enter Provost. Duke. Unfit to live, or die : O, gravel heart ! — After him, fellows ; bring him to the block."' [Exeunt Abhorson and Clown. Prov. Now, sir, how do you find the prisoner? Duhe. A creature unprepar'd, unmeet for death ; And to transport him in the mind he is"^ Were damnable. Prov. Here in the prison, father, There died this morning of a cruel fever One Ragozine, a most notorious pirate,"" A man of Claudio's years ; his beard, and head, Just of his colour ; What if we do omit This reprobate, till he were well inclin'd And satisfy the deputy with the visage Of R agozine, more like to Claudio ? .70 ACT IV. SC. III.] MEASUEE EOR MEASURE. 165 Duke. O, 't is an accident that heaven provides ! Despatch it presently; the hour draws on Prefix'd by Angelo : See this be done, And sent according to command ; whiles I Persuade this rude wretch willingly to die. Prov. This shall be done, good father, presently. But Barnardine must die this afternoon ; And how shall we continue Claudio, To save me from the danger that might come. If he were known alive ? Duke. Ijet this be done : — Put them in secret liolds, both Barnardine and Claudio : Ere twice the sun hath made his journal greeting To yonder generations^ you shall find Your safety manifested. Prov. I am your free dependant. Duke. Quick, despatch. And send the head to Angelo. [Exit Provost. Now will I write letters to Angelo, — The provost, he shall bear them, — whose contents Shall witness to him I am near at home ; And that by great injunctions I am bound To enter publicly : him I '11 desire To meet me at the consecrated fount,^^ A league below the city; and from thence. By cold gradation and well-balanc'd form,^^ We shall proceed with Angelo. Re-enter Provost. Prov. Here is the head ; I '11 carrv it myself. Duke. Convenient is it : Make a swift return ; For I would commune with you of such things That want no ear but yours. Prov. I '11 make all speed. \_E.rit. Isab. U'Vithm.'] Peace, ho, be here ! Duke. The tono:ue of Isabel : — She 's come to know. If yet her brother's pardon be come hither: But I will keep her ignorant of her good, To make her heavenly comforts of despair. When it is least expected.^* Enter Isabella. Isab. Ho, by your leave. 1C6 MEASUEE FOE MEASUEE. [act IV. sc. III. Dalie. Good morning to you, fair and gracious daughter. Imh. The hetter, given me hy so holy a man. Ilath yet the deputy sent my hrother's pardon ? Dnhe. He hath releas'd him, Isabel, from tlie world ; His head is off, and sent to xingelo. Isah. Nay, but it is not so ! Dnhe. It is no other : Show your wisdom, daughter, in your elose patienee. Isah. O, I will to liim, and pluek out his eyes I Dnhe. You shall not he admitted to his sight. Isfih. Unhappy Claudio ! wretched Isabel ! Injurious world I ^Most damned Angelo ! Dnhe. This nor hurts him, nor profits you a jot ; Forbear it therefore ; give your cause to heaven, ^lark what I say, which you shall find, By every syllable, a faithful verity: The duke comes home to-morrow ; — nay, dry your eyes ; One of our convent, and his confessor, (jives me this instance. Already he hath carried Notice to Escalus and Angelo, Who do prepare to meet him at the gates. There to give up their power. If you can, pace your wisdom In that good path that I Avould wish it go ; And you shall have your bosom on this wretch," Grace of the Duke, revenges to your heart, And o;eneral honour. Isah. I am directed by you. Duhe. This letter then to friar Peter give ; 'T is that he sent me of the duke's return : Say, by this token,'*' I desire his company At ^Mariana's house to-nio-ht. Her cause, and yours, I '11 perfect him withal: and he shall bring you Before the duke ; and to the head of Angelo Accuse him home, and home. For my poor self, I am combined by a sacred vow,'' And shall be absent. ATend you with this letter : Command these fretting' waters from your eves With a light heart ; trust not my holy order, If I pervert your course. — Who 's here ? Enier Lucio. Lucio. Good even, friar : where 's the provost t ACT IV. SC. IV.] MEASUEE EOU MEASURE. 167 Duke. Not within, sir. Lucio. O, pretty Isabella, I am pale at mine heart, to see thine eyes so red : thou must be patient. I am fain to dine and sup with water and bran ; I dare not for my head fill my belly; one fruitful meal would set me to 't : But they say the duke will be here to-morrow. By my troth, Isabel, I lov'd thy brother : if the old fantastical duke of dark corners'^ had been at home, he had lived. [Exit Isabella. Duke. Sir, the duke is marvellous little beholden to your reports ; but the best is, he lives not in them.'" Lucio. Friar, thou knowest not the duke so well as I do : he 's a better woodman^" than thou tak'st him for. Duke. AVell, you '11 answer this one day. Fare ye well. Lucio. Nay, tarry; I'll go along with thee; I can tell thee pretty tales of the duke. Duke. You have told me too many of him already, sir, if they be true : if not true, none were enough. Lucio. I was once before him for getting a wench with child. Duke. Did you such a thing ? Lucio. Yes, marry, did I : but I was fain to forswear it ; they would else have married me to the rotten medlar. Duke. Sir, your company is fairer than honest : Rest you well. Lucio. By my troth, I '11 go with thee to the lane's end. If bawdy talk offend yon, we '11 have very little of it. Nay, friar, I am a kind of burr; I shall stick. [Ejceunt. SCENE IV.— Room in Angelo's House. Enter Angelo and Escalus. Escal. Every letter he hath writ hath disvouch'd other. Anf/. In most uneven and distracted manner.^" Flis actions show much like to madness : pray heaven his wisdom be not tainted ! And Avhy meet him at the gates, and deliver our authorities there Escal. I guess not. Anfjf. And why should we proclaim it in an hour before his ent'ring, that, if any crave redress of injustice, they should exhibit their petitions in the street ? Escal. He shows his reason for that: to have a despatch of 1G8 MEASURE EOR MEASURE. [act IV. sc. V. complaints ; and to deliver us from devices hereafter, which shall then have no power to stand against us. Ang. Well, I heseech you, let it be proelaim'd : Betimes i' the morn I '11 call you at your house : Give notice to such men of sort and suit,'^ As are to meet him. Escal. I shall, sir: fare vou well. Aug. Good night. — [_Exit Escalus. This deed unshapes me quite, makes me unpregnant,^' And dull to all proceedings. A deflowered maid ! xVnd hv an eminent bodA , that enforced The law against it I — But that her tender shame ^yill not ])roclaim against her maiden loss. How might she tongue me !^'' Yet reason dares her no For my authority hears off a credent bulk,^^ That no particular scandal once can touch, But it confounds the breather. He should have liv'd, Save that his riotous youth, with dangerous sense,^'^ flight, in the times to come, have ta'en revenge, By so receiving a dislionour'd life With ransom of such shame. Would yet he had liv'd I Alack I when once our grace w^e have forgot, °° Nothing goes right ; we would and we would not.^^ \_Eiit. SCENE V. — Fields icitJwiit the Town. Enter Duke in his own hahit, and Friar Peter. Duhe. These letters at fit time deliver me."' [Gicing letters. The provost knows our purpose, and our plot. The matter being afoot, keep your instruction, And hold you ever to our special drift : Though sometimes you do blench from this to that. As cause doth minister. Go, call at Flavins' house, And tell him where I stay; give the like notice To Valentinus,''^ Rowland, and to Crassus, And bid them bring the trumpets to the gate But send me Flavins first. F. Peter. It shall be speeded well. [Ejcit Friau. Enter Varrius. Buhe. I thank thee, Varrius ; thou hast made good haste : ACT IV. SC. VI.] MEASURE EOR MEASURE. 169 Come, we will walk. There 's other of our friends Will greet us here anon, my gentle Varrius. \_Eireunt. SCENE VI. — Street near the City Gate. Enter Isabella and Mariana. Isab. To speak so indirectly, I am loth;°^ I would say the truth ; hut to accuse him so. That is your part : yet I am advis'd to do it ; He says, to veil full purpose.'"' Mari. Be rul'd by him. Isab, Besides, he tells me, that, if peradventure He speak against me on the adverse side, I should not think it strange ; for 't is a physic. That 's bitter to sweet end. Mari. I would friar Peter — Isab. O, peace! the friar is come. Enter Friar Peter. F. Peter. Come, I have found you out a stand most fit, Where you may have such vantage on the duke. He shall not pass you. Twice have the trumpets sounded ; The generous and gravest citizens^^ Have hent the gates, and very near upon The duke is ent'ring ; therefore, hence, away. [Exeunt. ITT. 22 ^ Take, oh take those lips away. Til ere is a second stanza to this song, which was first printed in Fletcher's tragedy of the Bloody Brother, 1639. Gildon, in his Eemarks, 1709, p. 448, assigns the whole poem to Shakespeare, observing that " the reason w4iy this stanza (the second) was left out in that place of Measure for Measure, where the first is, is this : — it is plain that the second makes the song to be from a man to a woman ; whereas in the play it is from a woman to a man, from Mariana to Angelo." Mr. E. G. White has well observed that the two stanzas are dissonant in respect to their construction for music, the first naturally bearing the verbal repetitions at the close of the two last lines, while the second is totally unsuited to a similar ar- rangement. In addition to this, it is to be remarked that the whole is a song in two parts, to use Capell's words, " the two stanzas being suited to two characters, this of Shakespeare's a female one, and his own (Metcher's) a male." On the whole, it seems clear that Fletcher adopted the first stanza from Shakespeare, and that the second one was written by himself. The latter is printed exactly as follows in the edition of the Bloody Brother, 4to. 1639, — Hide, Oh hide those hils of Snow, which thy frozen blossome beares, On whose tops the Pincks that grow are of those that April weares. But first set my poore heart free, bound in those loy chaines by three. Here hlossome is a misprint for bosom, corrected in ed. 1640 of the Bloody Brother, the Tragoedy of BoUo, 4to, 1640. loy, some copies ivy, and some properly icy; and th-ee for thee, only in some copies. ''That thy frozen," Dr. AVilson's MS. "Are yet of those," MS. ibid. " But my poore heart first set free," Shakespeare's Poems, ed. 1640. In the first stanza, — " Like breake of day," Bloody Brother, ed. 1639. ''Though seal'd in vaine," ibid. ed. 1639. It has been conjectured that Pletcher was the author of the whole of the poem, but independently of the consideration that the second stanza is inferior to the first, it should be recollected that it was not Shakespeare's practice thus to adopt the productions of his contemporaries, and that his utmost license in this respect merely extended to the introduction of snatches of common street-ballads. Added to this, as Measure for Measure was certainly in existence in the year 1604, it is scarcely likely that Fletcher at that period had attained sufficient popularity to 172 NOTES TO THE EOURTH ACT. induce the great dramatist thus to make use of any of his compositions ; neither is it prohahle the stanza was a later interpolation into the comedy. Both stanzas, with a few verbal variations, are included in tlie IGJ^O edition of Shakespeare's Poems, but that work is of no critical authority. The song was set to music by John Wilson, but not probably until after the death of Shakespeare; and a fac-simile of the composition, from AVilson's original manuscript, is here annexed. "Wilson was Professor of Music in the University of Oxford, 1644, having been born in 1594 ; and Dr. Eimbault conjectures that, as a boy, he may have been the original singer of the poem. The same writer is of opinion that Dr. Wilson, and the Jack Wilson who is mentioned in a stage- direction in Much Ado about Nothing, are one and the same person. Copies of Dr. Wilson's music to this song are to be found in MS. Addit. 11608, of the seventeenth century, said to have been written about the year 1656; Play- ford's Select Musicall Ayres and Dialogues for one and two voyces, to sing to the Theorbo, Lute, or Basse YioU, 1652 ; Playford's Select Ayres and Dialogues, fol. Lond. 1659, p. 1, there entitled, " Love's Ingratitude ;" and in the Treasury of Musick, fol. Lond. 1669, under the same title. ^ Seals of love, but seaVd in vain. " Though seal'd in vaine," ed. 1640. Shakespeare repeats this image. "And seal'd false bonds of love as oft as mine," Sonnets. "Pure lips, sweet seals," &c., Venus and Adonis. Heed refers to the old black-letter translation of Amadis of Gaule, 4to. p. 171 : " — rather Avith l-'tsses (which are comited the scales of love) they chose to confirm their unanimitie, than otherwise to offend a resolved pacience." The repetition is omitted in ed. 1685. ^ My mirth it much displeas' d, but pleas' d my ^coe. Though the music soothed my sorrows, it had no tendency to produce light merriment. — Dr. Johnson. " Is much," A\'arburton. * I do constantly believe you. Constantly, that is, certainly, stedfastly. " Perseverantcr," constantly, sted- fastly." Cooperi Thesaurus, 1584. " Eastly, surely, constantly," Baret, 1580. " If such a one, I say, upon the very first sight of your sexe, could so constantly confesse that women were onelv worthy of affection," Decameron, English trans- lation, ed. 1625, f. 123. ^ Very well met, and icelcome. It is, or Avas until lately, the custom, in representing this play, to commence the fourth act with the present speech, an injudicious arrangement, for the lone situation of ^lariana at the moated grange deserves the prominence evidently intended by the author. The short scene between the Duke and Eriar Peter, the fifth scene, has also been improperly omitted, a disposition which renders the subsequent conduct of the latter quite inexplicable to the audience. " Ue hath a garden circummiir d icith bricl'. Circummur'd, that is, walled round, Lat. " It is a payne to be mured up in a stone wall lyke an anker," Palsgrave, 1530. " He caused the doors to be mured and cased," Painter's Palace of Pleasure, ap. Johnson. " It is compassed about with a verie high stone Avail, and the brims thereof are mured round about," Harrison's Description of England, p. 210. And to that vineyard is a planched gate. Planched, that is, made of boards or planks, ''l^lauchc, planked, boorded, floored with plankes," Cotgrave. " Plancher made of hordes, Palsgrave. J)*^ WiXso/z.s jM^.si/y £^ Sor(f/, la/re^ Oh.' ia^e ' tAosc lips mvq^, " /7om/ (he^ crif^fMfz/ Mar(zi£cnpf Aihi^ee fc-Dan^olifild J:ac bitrLinlio^ NOTES TO THE EOURTH ACT. ''Entablamicnto, boording, planchering, laying of planks or boords," Percivale's Spanish Dictionarie, 1599. " Eloore or dresse with bourdes or plaunchers, tahilo" Huloet's Abcedarium, 1552. " The great table was made longer with a great plaunche borde of oke of four inches thycke," Eerner's Eroissart, ap. Eichardson. The term is still in use in some of the provinces, (Palmer and Eorby). In Cornwall, observes Mr. Sandys, — a wooden floor is called the plauchhig, and the room or passage is said to be planched. She lev'd fall the cloam huzza 'pon the plauclien, and scat it all to midgens and jouds ; i. e., She let the earthenware ])an fall upon the floor, and broke it all to pieces. " Upon the ground doth lie a hollow planclier," Lilly's Maid's Metamorphosis, 1600, ap. Steevens. " The goodwife had found out a privie place between two seelings of a plaunclier," Tarlton's Newes out of Pur- gatorie, 1590. The parts of most account to sow togither fit, As doth a little glue two mightie planclwrs knit. Bahilon, Part of the Seconde JFceke of Du Partus, 1590. Yet with his hoofes doth beat and rent The planched floore, the barres and chaines. Sir A. Gorges^ tr. of Lucan, 1614, ap. Steevens. ^ There have I made my promise. The metrical arrangement of the original is here followed. Pope reads, — " There on the heavy middle of the night, Have I my promise made to call upon him ;" and Capell, — " There have I made my promise to call on him, Upon the heavy middle of the night." ^ In action atl of precept. That is, says Warburton, showing the several turnings of the way with his hand ; which action contained so many precepts, being given for my direction. Dr. Johnson unnecessarily proposed to read, — " In precept of aU action," that is, in direction given not by words, but by mute signs. And that I have possessed him. Possessed, that is, given to understand, informed, acquainted. " Master Matthew, in any case possesse no gentlemen of our acquaintance with notice of my lodging," Every Man in his Humour, ed. 1616, p. 16. " I have possess'd your grace of what I purpose," Merch.Yen. That stays vpon me. That is, who waits for my leisure. " Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon vour leisure," Macbeth, cited by Steevens. ^~ / shalt attend your leisure. We attend him (King James) with great devotion ; and begin to think long till w^e have him. The lords have sent to know his pleasure, whether he will come by land or sea ; for which purpose there be eight or ten ships ready that were going for the coast of Spain, but do now tarry to keep the Northern Seas. —Letter dated 1603. 0 place and greatness. It plainly appears that this fine speech belongs to that which concludes the preceding scene between the Duke and Lucio : for they are absolutely foreign to the subject of this, and are the natural reflections arising from that. Besides, the very words — " Eun with these false and most contrarious quests," evidently refer to Lucio's scandals just preceding ; which the Oxford editor, in his usual way. 174 NOTES TO THE EOUETH ACT. has emended, by altering- these to tlieir. But that some time might be given to the two women to confer together, the players, I suppose, took part of the speech, beginning at, " No might nor greatness," &c. and put it here, without troubling themselves about its pertinency. — Warhurton. A\'arburton supposes, the players removed this line with the five following from their proper place, at the end of the sixth scene of the preceding act, and inserted them here, in order that some time might be given to the two women to confer together. And so far they were undoubtedly in the right, that some soliloquy of this kind was absolutely necessar}" to fill up that time. No other hath come down to us from the poet, and I must own I can see no reasonable objection, why this very passage might not have been applied to that purpose by the poet l imself ; or why those groundless and scandalous reflections on the Duke's character, which had. so very lately been thrown out in his hearing by Lucio, might not very naturally recur to his thoughts at this time, and draw from him the complaint which is here so finely expressed. — Heath. I cannot agree that these are placed here by the players. The sentiments are common, and such as a prince, given to reflection, must have often present. There was a necessity to fill up the time in which the ladies converse apart, and they must have quick tongues and ready apprehensions, if they understood each other whUe this speech was uttered. — Johnson. bullions of false eyes. "Eyes insidious and traiterous," Johnson. " Ther is ful many an eyghe, and many an eere, awaytand on a lord," Chaucer, Cant. T., 7635. Run with these false and most con trarious quests. The pronoun these is here redundant, as in 1 Henry IV., and in other places. J)r. Johnson explains the line, — different reports, running counter to each other; lying messengers spread volumes of jarring reports. So, in Othello : — " The senate has sent out three several quests.'" In Eichard III. is a passage in some degree similar to the foregoing : My conscience hath a thousand several tongues. And every tongue brings in a several tale. And every tale condemns — . — Steevens. I incline to think that quests here means inquisitions, in which sense the word was used in Shakespeare's time. See Minsheu's Diet, in v. Coles, in his Latin Dictionary, 1G79, renders "A quest,'' by, examen, inquisitio. — Malone. There is an old pamphlet, observes Douce, with the whimsical title of Jacke of Dover, his quest of in{[uirie, or his privy search for the veriest foole in England, 1604, 4to. Grildon, 1700, reads, "contrarious censures." And raclc thee in their fancies. Rack, that is, torture or mangle. " To racke, vi. to torture and to torment," Minslieu. The rack itself is mentioned in tlie next act. ^~ Doth flourish the deceit. That is, doth adorn or ornament the deception. " The beauteous evil are empty trunks, o'er-flourished by the devil," Twelfth Night. " Time doth transfixe the florish set on youth," Sonnets, ed. 1609. ^"^ Our corn 's to reap, for yet our tithe 's to sow. The meaning of this seems to be, — There is great business to be performed ; our corn (harvest) is certainly yet to be gathered, for even our tithe (a portion of it) is not yet sown. AYarburton reads tilth (previously suggested by Theobald), — NOTES TO THE EOUHTH ACT. 175 our tillage is yet to make ; the grain from which we expect our harvest is not yet put into the ground. Steevens shows by the following quotation from Gower, De Confessione Amantis, that to sow tilth was a phrase formerly in use, — To sowe cockill with the corne, So that the tilth is nigh forlorne, Which Christ sew first his owne honde. The reader is here attacked Avith a petty sophism. A\'e should read i/lih, i. e. our tillage is to make. But in the text it is to sow ; and who has ever said that his tillage was to soid ? I believe tytlie is right, and that the expression is proverbial, in which tytlie is taken, by an easy metonymy, for harvest. — Johnson. Warburton did not do justice to his own conjecture ; and no wonder, therefore, that Dr. Johnson has not. — Tilth is provincially used for land tilVd, prepared for sowing. Shakespeare, however, has applied it before in its usual acceptation. — Farmer. Warburton's conjecture may be supported by many instances in Markliam's English Husbandman, 1635 : — "After the beginning of March you shall begin to sowe your barley upon that ground which the year before did lye fallow, and is commonly called your tilth or fallow field." In p. 74 of this book, a corruption, like our author's, occurs : "As before, I said beginne to fallow your tithe field ;" which is undoubtedly (?) misprinted for tilth field. — Toilet. Another suggestion (Capell, 52) consists in the transposition of the words corn and tithe, — " Our tithe's to reap, for yet our corn 's to sow." It does not follow, because Earmer, Toilet, and Steevens have shown that to soio tilth is not nonsense, it ought therefore to displace the original reading. Tiie Duke is speaking in the person of an ecclesiastick ; tythe, therefore, is a word more in character than tilth. Besides, the advantage expected by him to spring from the present stratagem, was but one of the ten which he looked for froui the whole of his plan. — Henley. He is his imfes head. The phrase is Scriptural. See Ephesians, v. 23 ; 1 Corinthians, xi. 3. ^° To-morroic morning are to die Claudio and Barnardine. It may be worth notice that one of the friars, in Marlowe's Jew of Malta, is termed Barnardine. An unpitied whipping. Unpitied is generally used by our old dramatists for unmerciful. According to Douce, it means here a whipping that none shall pity, for the reason that immediately follows. He icill discredit otir mystery. "A misterie, craft, art, trade, or occupation," Minsheu. "llestier, a trade, occupation, misterie, handicraft," Cotgrave. A good favour you have. Eavour, that is, countenance. " So tart a favour, to trumpet such good tidings," Antony and Cleopatra, act ii. " Angelo hath seen them both, and M ill discover the favour," p. 162. ^* Every true mans apparel fits your thief. So, in Promos and Cassandra, 1578, the Hangman says : — " Here is nyne and NOTES TO THE POUETH ACT. twenty sutes of apparell for my share." True man, in the language of ancient times, is generally i)laced in opposition to thief. So, in Churchyard's Warning to >\'anderers Abroade, 1593 : The privy thiefe that steales away our wealth, Is sore afraid a true mans steps to see. The above note is by Steevens. Henley refers to Genesis, xlii. 11. — "We are all true men ; thy servants are no spies," If it he too little for your thief This speech, which is assigned to the Clown in the first folio, is generally made to follow on to the previous one spoken by Abhorson, and one editor inserts Cloicn in the text, as part of the speech. The Clown proved the occupation of the ladies to belong to the mystery or trade of painters. Abhorson begins his proof, and the Clown follows it up that his craft belongs to the mystery of tailors. If it be too little for your thief, your true man thinks it big enough, that is, to lose ; if it be too big for yom- thief, your thief thinks it little enough to steal. The following observations by Heath and Knight deserve quotation : If Warburton had attended to the argument by which the bawd proves his o^^ n profession to be a mistery, he A\'ould not have been driven to take refuge in the groundless supposition, that part of the dialogue had been lost or dropped. The argument of the hangman is exactly similar to that of the bawd. As the latter puts in his claim to the whores, as members of his occupation, and in virtue of their painting Mould enroll his own fraternity in the mistery of painters, so the former equally lays claim to the thieves, as members too of his occupation, and in their right endeavours to rank his brethren the hangmen under the mistery of fitters of apparel or taylors. The reading of the old editions is therefore undoubt- edly right, except that the last speech,which makes part of the hangman's argument, is by mistake, as the reader's own sagacity will readily perceive, given to the clown or bawd. — lleaili. AVe divide this assertion and proof between the two characters, as in the original. The whole of the elaborate argument is given by tlie modern editors to Abhorson ; but this piece of oratory is not at aU characteristic of his sententious gravity. AVarburton thinks that something has been omitted ; but it appears to us that, when tlie Clown asks for " proof" that " hanging is a mystery," the hang- man commences his exposition with an account of the thief's clothes, — the link of fellowship between them ; and, proceeding slowly and logically, is interrupted by the lively Clown, explaining his first postulate. Tliey are then both interrupted by the entrance of the Provost. These dramatic breaks in a discourse are never sufficiently taken into account by the commentators. — Knight. He doth oftener asl- forgiveness. " The common executioner falls not the axe upon the humbled neck, but first begs pardon," As You Eike It, ap. Steevens. You shall find me ijare. Yare, that is, ready, handy, nimble. " Y' are," ed. 1623 ; " yours," some eds. of the last centurv. The term occurs in Twelfth Nisrht, and in x-Vntonv and Cleopatra. I owe you a good turn. That is, a turn off the ladder. He quibbles on the phrase, observes Dr. Farmer, according to its common acceptation. NOTES TO THE EOUETH ACT. 177 None, since the curfew rung. The coiivrefeii was by no means peculiar to England, the practice of closing- domestic fires at stated times, signified by the ringing of a bell, having obtained in most parts of Europe. The first morning bell was also so called. Couvre feu, cloche qui sonnoit le matin au point du jour, et tons les soirs a sept heures, pour avertir les habitans de se retirer chez eux, et de couvrir leurs feux," Koquefort. " Est autem ignitegium qualibet nocte per annum pulsandum hora septima post meridiem, exceptis illis festis quibus Matutinse dicuntur post completorium, in quibus ignitegium ex consuetudine non pulsatur," Stat. Lich. Eccles. ap. Ducange in V. Ignitegium. In Shakespeare's time, the hour of curfew varied with the place and season, so that the discrepancies which appear in his various notices of it are readily to be explained. " In many places, at this day, where a bell is customarily rung towards bed-time, it is said to ring curfeu," Blount's Law Dictionary, 1691. The evening curfew has been rung in England for many centuries. By the Stat. Civ. Lond. 13 Edw. I., a.d. 1285, it is enjoined that none be so hardy to be found going or wandering about the streets of tlie city, after curfew tolled at St. Martins le Grand, with sword or buckler, or other arms for doing mischief, or whereof evil suspicion might arise. It is also enjoined, by the same statute, that none do keep a tavern open for wine or ale after the tolling of the aforesaid curfew. The evening curfew, in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, was usually rung at 8 p.m. for the space of a quarter of an hour; and Chaucer mentions it as an indication of the liour, — " abowten curfew tyme, or litel more," Cant. Tales, 3645. Also I wole that my close which ys holdyn by copy ofP my lord abbot of Bury Seynt Edmund, and the which I purchasyd of Thomas Bussell gentylman, my lord payd the resydwe, I gyve toward the ryngers charge off the gret belle in Seynt Mary Chirche, callyd corfew-belle, and I wylle that the chirche revis for the tyme beyng shall take yt upp by copy to the seyd use aflPter my dyscesce. — Bimj Wills, 1509. By indenture 26th August, 4 Henry VIII. (1513), Eoger Lupton, vicar of Cropredy, co. Oxon, delivered to the churchwardens of Cropredy and Bourton £6. 13s. 4^., for which they covenanted for themselves and their successors, to find at their own costs some person to keep duly the clock of Cropredy, and to ring daily, both winter and summer, the curfew and day bell. The property belonging to this charity consists of a close in Wardington called the Bell Land, containing fourteen acres. Hasted, in his History of Kent, ix. 416, speaking of St. Margaret at CliflPe, in the hundred of Bewsborough, says : ' There are five roods of land given for tolling the bell at night, called Curfew-land.' In the Articles of the Charge of the Wardmote Inquest, dated 1495, and printed in Stow's Survey of London, ed. 1633, p. 676, is the following entry, — "Also if any parish clarke doe ring the bell, called the curfue bell, after curfue rungen at the churches of Bow, Barking church, and Saint Giles without Creple- gate." This entry is repeated in Calthrop's Reports, ed. 1670, " Saint Brides" being added after Barking church. The meaning is that the clerk is to be pre- sented in the above cases. The curfew has been rung at Barking from time immemorial, and, according to tradition, it was formerly sounded in the tower over the gate of Barking monastery, near the church. This gate still remains, being in fact the only fragment of the ancient monastery of any interest now pre- served, and it is ordinarily known as the fire-beU gate. In MS. Harl. 2252 is preserved an early copy of an " ordynaunce in the cete of London," apparently made in the reign of Edward IV., in which " hyt ys ordayned that the patronus of the galyes shall kepe there howsys and there dorys shytte at the ryngyng of curfue of Berkyng Chyrche, and that they ne any of ther felawshyppe be wanderynge abrode." 178 NOTES TO THE EOUETH ACT. The ancient tales of Tom Tlmmbe in tlie olde time have beene the only revivers of droiizy age at midnight : old and young have with his tales chim'd matteus till the cocks crow in the morning ; batclielors and maides with his tales have compassed the Christmas lire-blocke till the curfew hell rings candle out. — The History of Tom Tlinmhc the Little, 1G21. Weston thy hand that Couvre-feu Eell did sway, AYhich did his life to endlesse sleepe convay. But rest thou where thou art ; He seeke no glorie By the relation of so sad a store [sic). Sir Thomas Overhiirfs Characters, &c., ed. 1G2G. Some say no evill thing that walks by night In fog or fire, by lake or moorish fen, Blew meager hag, or stubborne unlayd ghost That breaks his magi eke chaines at curfeu time. No goblin, or swart faerie of the mine, Has hurtfull power ore true virginity. Milton s Comns, A Masl'e, &c., ed. 1637, p. 15. I make my pen to serve for an instrument to stir the cinders whiterwitli your old love to me hath bin cover'd a long time ; therfore I pray let no covurez-feu bell have power hereafter to rake up, and choak with the ashes of oblivion, that cleer flame wherwith our afi'ections did use to sparkle so long by correspondence of letters, and other offices of love. — HoicelVs Familiar Letters, 1650. Moth, the antiquary, in Cartwright's play of the Ordinary, 1651, wishes that the house may remain free from wicked spirits, " from Curfew time — to the next prime." In Lysons' Environs of London, i. 169, is the following extract from the churchwardens' and chamberlain's accounts of Kingston-upon-Thames : — '1651. Eor ringing the curfew bell for one year, £1: 10s.' The following lines, " on a curfew," occur in the Treasury of Divine Eaptures, 1667, p. 225 : This night the bell calls to bed, but oh ! Before the next, my passing-bell may go. In the Merry Devil of Edmonton, 1631, nine o'clock is mentioned as curfew time, — " Well, 'tis nine a clocke, 'tis time to ring curfew." The curfew is still rung at 9 p. m. at Bromyard, co. Hereford, from Nov. 5th to Christmas-day, and the custom Avas even carried to New England, the curfew having been formerly rung at Boston at the above-named hour. At Durham also, the curfew is rung on the great bell of the cathedral at nine o'clock. Bishop Hall, in his Satires, mentions a person giving to the Church " a new rope to ring the couvre-feu bell." At Stratford-on-Avon, the curfew was sounded from a bell in the Guild Chapel, which was very near Shakespeare's residence of New Place, in fact merely a narrow lane being between the side of tlie latter and the Chapel. Previously to 1835, before the passing of the Municipal Corporations Act, as far back as living memory extends, this bell was rung at 8 p. m. every night from September 11th to the Saturday before Easter-day, except on Sundays and Saints'-days, and the eves thereof, when it was rung at 7 p. m. During the same period, but without the above exception, the same bell was rung at 5 a. m. The bell at present in the Guild Chapel was 7'ecast in the year 1633, and that there was one tliere in Shakespeare's time is proved by MSS. preserved in the Council Chamber of Stratford-on-Avon. Tlie ringing of the curfew is still practised in many towns and villages in NOTES TO THE FOURTH ACT. 179 England, generally at 8 p. m. At Exeter Cathedral, the custom is to toll the bell thirty strokes, and, after a short interval, to toll eight more, the latter probably denoting the hour. At Waltham-on-the- Wolds, co. Leicester, the curfew is rung at 5 a. m. and at 8 p. m. in summer, and at G a. m, and at 7 p. m. in winter. At Woodstock, CO. Oxon, it rings from 8 to 8^ p. m. from October to March, and in some villages of the same county at 4 a. m. At Kidderminster, at 8 p. m. and at 5 a. m. At St. Helen's church, Abingdon, and at Winchester, at 8 p. m. and at 4 a. m. during the winter months. The curfew is so popular in some places, that the inhabitants have insisted upon its revival, after the autliorities had permitted its discontinuance. An instance of this kind occurred some years ago at Sandwich. Early and authentic curfew-bells are of considerable rarity. One is said to be preserved at Hoddesdon, co. Herts. There is another, bearing the date of 1432, in the gloriette, now called the clock-tower, at Leeds Castle, on which the curfew has been rung for centuries, in fact up to the present time. The curfew-bell, a representation of which is given in the upper part of the frontispiece to tlie present volume, was formerly at Dover Castle, but is now preserved in the museum at Canterbury. The original is about thirteen inches in height, of very solid make, and apparently of considerable antiquity. It will be observed that the projecting loop, by which it was suspended, has been broken oflP. In reference to the object originally attained by the curfew-bell, may be mentioned an utensil, usually termed a couvre-feu, used for the purpose of suddenly extinguishing a fire. This utensil was in occasional use in the time of Shakespeare, a very interesting specimen, dated 1584, being preserved in the Canterbury Museum, and engraved in the frontispiece to the present volume. The handle of this specimen has been broken oflP, but it has been restored by Mr. Eairholt in his engraving on the authority of another couvre-feu formerly in the Strawberry Hill collection, and engraved in the Antiquarian Repertory, i. 89, where Grose observes that the method of applying the utensil was this, — " the wood and embers were raked as close as possible to the back of the hearth, and then the curfew was put over them, the open part placed close to the back of the chimney : by this contri- vance, the air being almost totally excluded, the fire was of course extinguished. This curfew is of copper, rivetted together, as solder would have been liable to melt with the heat. It is ten inches high, sixteen inches wide, and nine inches deep. Mr. Gostling, to whom it belongs, says it has been in his family from time imme- morial, and was always called the curfew. Some others of this kind are still remaining in Kent and Sussex." The specimen at Canterbury is of copper, about sixteen inches wide, and decorated with embossed ornaments. Hasted, v. 434, mentions having seen it at New Shelve house in 1755, and states that it " had been in the manor-house here time out of mind, and had always been known by this name." According to Cole, Gosling's curfew " is nothing more than a com- mon utensil, in various counties in England, to bake small matters under, an extempore oven, by heating the hearth, putting the viand upon it, covering it with the copper or iron implement, and then raking up the embers all round and above it," MS. Addit. 58GG, fol. 274. Bacon mentions the couvre-feu, spelling it cwr/'eip, and classing it with pots and pans. It may, indeed, be doubted whether this curfew has any, even a remote historical, connexion with the curfew bell; and it is more probable that the kitchen curfew was peculiar to the sixteenth and subsequent centuries, the name alone leading to the supposition that it bore any relation to the other. Thef/ icill then, ere H he long. Hawkins proposes to read, — she will then. The Duke expects Isabella and Mariana. See his next speech but one. 180 NOTES TO THE EOURTH ACT. Ecen icith the strolce and line of his great justice. Stroke, observes Dr. Johnson, is here put for the stroke of a pen or a line. " Stryke in writyng, made in length lyke a spyt," Huloet's Abcedarium, 1552. To qualify in others. To temper, to moderate, as we say wine is qualified with water. Thus before in this play : — " So to enforce, or q^udify the laws." Again, in Othello : — " I have drank but one cup to-night, and that was craftily qualified too." — Johnson and Steevens. Were he meaVd icith that which he corrects. Mealed, that is, mingled, sprinkled, and hence metaphorically, defiled. " Their faces meal'd," or smeared, Gayton's Pleasant Notes upon Don Quixot, fol. 1651^, p. 95. In A New Academy, or the Accomplish'd Secretary, IGDD, p. C4, a beau sprinkled over with finery is said to be " all meal'd." The word is said to be a corruption of the archaic mell, to mix or mingle. As if their perriwigs to death they gave. To meale them in some gastly dead man's grave. Anions Fhilosophers Satires, 1616, ap. Steevens. But this being so, he s just. The tenor of the argument seems to require — But this not being so — . Perhaps, however, the author meant only to say — But, his life being paralleled, &c., he's just. — Malone. Seldom when the steeled gaoler. That is, it is seldom that the steeled gaoler, &c. Mr. Singer considers seldom- ichen a compound like anyirhen, but there is no indication of this being the case in the first folio, and in another passage in Henry IV., there is a comma between the words, — 'Tis seldome, when the Bee doth leave her Combe. " Seldom whan, peu soiivent," Palsgrave, 1530. That tcounds th' insisting postern icith these strokes. Unsisting, never at rest, always opening. This explanation, from the Latin, is Blackstone's. Johnson proposed to read unfeeling, Hanmer has unresting, and Eowe, unresisting. Steevens suggested unlisCning, or unshifting, and Monck Mason would read unlisting, unregarding. Were alteration necessary, Rowe's substitution of unresisting may be preferred as more suitable to the verb icoimds. Mr. CoUier, Shakespeare, 181^2, ii. 73, conjectured resisting, Mr, Knight's commentary on which appears to be sound, — " It is scarcely necessary to show, by an epithet, that the door of a jail resisted the entrance of those without. Unsisting, according to Blackstone, means, never at rest. The duke has himself come through the ])Ostern ; and after he has spoken a few lines, comes another, knocking. Well may the duke, interrupted in his speech, exclaim, that the door never stands still. Shakespeare's Latinism, from sisto, ought not to be lightly rejected." Unwisting, unconscious. Singer. Insisting, ed, 1685. ^' Upon the very siege of justice. Siege, that is, seat. " Siege, a seat ; also, atribunall, court, or throne, the seat of justice," Cotgrave. " One softe seges was he sett," Romance of Octavian, Lincoln MS. This is his lordship s man. The old copy has — his lord's man, corrected by Pope. In the MS. plays of NOTES TO THE EOUETH ACT. 181 our author's time, they often wrote Lo. for Lord, and Lord, for Lordship, and these contractions were sometimes improperly followed in the printed copies. So, in the Taming of the Shrew, 1623 : — " Wilt please your lord drink a cup of sacke." — Malone. Tyrwhitt, 1766, suggested that this speech belongs to the Provost, and the next to the Duke ; but surely the Duke would be likely to know the messenger, who may be supposed to belong to his court, and the Provost, after what he had heard, might naturally think the missive was a pardon, the subject chiefly in his thoughts, as appears from his previous speech, — " I hope it is some pardon, or reprieve, for the most gentle Claudio." It is at least as difiicult to reconcile the hope he expressed before he had received any assurance, with his reply to the Duke ; as the confidence he expresses after the assurance, when he sees a messenger from Angelo, who could not well be supposed to have any other business. (Anon.) For wliich the pardoner himself is in. That is, entangled in the same sin. " Is plunged in guilt, and obnoxious to the animadversion of the law," Heath. Hence hath offence his quick celerity. That is, speedy propagation, when the magistrate himself is infected with it ; when it obtains among the great. — Bann. *^ Aicahens me tvith this uniconted putting on. Putting on, that is, spur, incitement. " The powers above put on their instruments," Macbeth, cited by Steevens. " Pray let's hear," ed. 1685. One that is a prisoner nine years old. That is, who has been a prisoner for nine years. "Ere we were two days old at sea," Hamlet. — Malone. It is noiD apparent ? The first two words of this line are generally transposed, but this mode of asking a question is very common in old plays. ^ Insensible of mortality, and desperately mortal. This is one of the many jingles on words that render the perfect gloss of Shakespeare so difficult. The meaning seems to be, — insensible to death, but yet desperately attached to the vices of fife. The following notes are extracted from those of the commentators. This expression is obscure. Sir Thomas Hanmer reads, mortally desperate. Mortally is, in low conversation, used in this sense, but I know not whether it was ever written. I am inclined to believe, that desperately mortal means desperately mischievous. Or desperately mortal may mean a man likely to die in a desperate state, without reflection or repentance. — Johnson. The word is often used by Shakespeare in the sense first affixed to it by Dr. Johnson, which I believe to be the true one. So, in Othello : — " And you, ye mortal engines," &c. — Malone. As our author, in the Tempest, seems to have written " harmonious charmingly," instead of " harmoniously charming," he may, in the present instance, have given us " desperately mortal," for " mortally desperate :" i. e., desperate in the extreme. In low provincial language, — mortal sick, mortal bad, mortal poor, is phraseology of frequent occurrence. — Steevens. I believe the meaning is — free from the common and natural abhorrence of death, and prepared for a state of annihilation. — Seymour. 182 NOTES TO THE EOUIlTn ACT. the holduess of my cunning. That is, in the confidence of my sagacity. — Steevens. '^^ I icill lay myself in hazard. AVarburton incorrectly notes this as a metaphor from chess, hut compare Henry \., act i. Upton also cites the following from Drayton's Agincourt : — I'le send him balls and rackets if I live, That they such racket shall in Paris see. When over lyne with bandies I shall drive ; As that, before the set be fully done, Erance may perhaps into the hazard runne. Shave the head, and tie the heard. It was usual, even up to a recent period, to tie the hair of persons destined for execution. The hair of Major Andre was tied on the day of his death, and it appeared in small tufts, when his body was disinterred. Sympson proposed to read, die the beard, an unnecessary emendation, although it may be souiewhat supported by the speech of the Provost in the following scene, where he says that the beard and head of Ragozine were just of Claudio's colour. Theobald, in his Correspondence, p. 290, suggests, — and tire the beard. P. Mathieu, in his Heroyke Eife and Deplorable Death of Henry the Eourth of Erance, tr. by Grimston, 1G12, says, that Pavaillac, in the midst of his tortures, lifted up his head and shook a spark of fire from his heard. " This unprofitable care, (he adds,) to save it, being noted, aflForded matter to divers to praise the custome in Germany, Sicisserland, and divers other places, to shave off, and theu to burn all the haire from all parts of the bodies of those who are con\ icted for any notorious crimes." — Reed. This alludes to a practice frequent amongst Roman Catholics, of desiring to receive the tonsure of the Monks before they die. It cannot allude to tiie custom which Reed tells ns was established in some parts of Germany, that of shaving criminals previous to their execution, as here the penitent is supposed to be hared at his own request. — J/. JIason. It teas the desire of the penitent to he so hared. "Bar'de," eds. 1C23, IG32, and 1C63. "Barb'd," ed. IGS5. The old copy, as Malone observes, is certainly right. " Or the baring of my beard," All's Well that ends Well. " Glahellus, bare, without haire," Cooperi Thesaurus, ed. 1584. But, hy chance, nothing of ichat is writ. The disguised friar produces a letter with the hand and seal of the Duke. You shall anon, says he to the Provost, over-read it at your pleasure, where vou will find within these two days he will be here. This is a thing which Angelo knows not, for he this very day receives letters of strange tenor ; — perchance of the IXdve's death, perchance entering into some monastery, but by cliance nothing of what is tcrit, i. e., nothing of what is truth or gospel. So in Pericles : — — Eacli man Thinks all is writ he spoken can. So, somewhat similar, in Sir Thomas Elyot's Boke named the Governour, 1531 — " I suppose no one thynketh that Esope wrote gospels." Warburton says, we should read "is here writ,'' the Duke pointing to the letter in his hand. — White. NOTES TO THE FOURTH ACT. 183 Looh, the unfolding star calls up the shepherd. The starre tliat bids the she})heard fold, Now the top of heav'n doth hold. Hilton s Comus, A Maslce, S^^c, 4to. Lond. 1637, p. 4. So doth the evening star present itself Unto the careful shepherd's gladsome eyes, By which unto the fold he leads his flock. Marstons Insatiate Countess, 1G13, ap. Malone. °^ But this shall absolutely resolve you. That is, shaU entirely convince you. — J/. Mason. As I was in our house of profession. A house of bad character was frequently termed a nunnery, and hence, as in the present passage, a house of profession. The following observations on the Clown, who is here speaking, are extracted from Douce : — The clown in this play officiates as the tapster of a brothel ; whence it has been concluded that he is not a domestic fool, nor ought to appear in the dress of that character. A little consideration will serve to show that the opinion is erroneous, that this clown is altogether a domestic fool, and that he should be habited accordingly. In Act II., Escalus calls him a tedious fool, and Iniquity, a name for one of the old stage bufPoons. He tells him that he will have him iDhipt, a punishment that was very often inflicted on fools. In Timon of Athens we have a strumpet's fool, and a similar character is mentioned in the first speech in Antony and Cleopatra. But if any one should still entertain a doubt on the subject, he may receive the most complete satisfaction by an attentive examination of ancient prints, many of which will furnish instances of the common use of the domestic fool in brothels. First, here's young master Hash. This name is probably taken from the silken or velvet stulf called rash, and there may be a pun intended. Bash is mentioned, with other descriptions of stuffs, in Harrison's Description of England, p. 163. ''Bascia, a kinde of stuffe called silke rash," Florio's Worlde of AVordes, ed. 1598. " Bascetta, a kinde of fine silke rash," ibid. " Bashe, a kinde of stufFe, velour ras, sericum rasile," Minsheu. "Silk rash, hurail," Howell, sect. 25. "^/wa^, silke-rash, or any kind of stufl^e that's lialfe silke and lialfe worsted," Coto-rave. "And with mockado suit, and judgement rash, and tongue of saye," Taylor's Beply as true as Steele, 1641, ap. Malone. I have not yet bethought myselfe, what thinkest thou fittest ? That of broad cloath, of Florentine cloath rash, or Venetian stuffe, or taff'ata, satin, silke- grogram, cut or uncut, or figured velvet, that of cloath of gold, or of silver. — The Fassenger of Benvenuto, 4to. Lond. 1612. For with the plainest plain e yee saw him goe, In civin blacke of rash, of serge, or so. An Aprill Shoioer, Sj'c., on B. Sacvile, Earl of Dorset, 1621. Be it therefore enacted, for the maintenance of the same trade in velvets, satins, sylkes, rashe, and other stuff's, as fitt for tearing as fine for wearing, &c. — Sixth Decree of Christmas Frince, p. 21. 181 NOTES TO THE EOUUTH ACT. Sleeveless his jerkin was, and it had been Velvet, but 'twas now (so much ground was seen) Become tuff taffaty ; and our children shall See it plain rash awhile, then nought at all. Bonne, Sat. iv. 31, ap. Nares. University jests are his universal discourse, and his news the demeanour of the proctors ; his phrase, the apparel of his mind, is made of divers shreds like a cushion, and Avhen it goes plainest hath a rash outside, and fustian linings. — The Overhttry Characters. Their hands are made of rash. Their minds are made of say, Their love is like silk changeable, It lastetli but a day. Cot (/rave's Wits Interpreter, 1671, p. 114. ^ ^ He's in for a commodity of brown paper. The borrowing money at a high rate of interest, and the principal portion o the consideration coming in the shape of " a commodity," was a fertile subject of satire. A case occurred so recently as 1850, where two clerks gave a bill for £60, receiving only £15 in money, and the remainder in three worthless pictures, so that the practice can scarcely be considered obsolete. The object was originally to avoid the penal statutes against usury. Wilson, in his Discourse upon Usury, 1572, thus puts the case : — " 1 have neede of money, and deale wyth a broaker ; hee aunswerth me that hee cannot helpe me with moneye, but, yf 1 list to have wares, I shall speede : well, my necessite is great ; he bryngeth mee blotting paper, pak-threed, fustians, chamlets, liauks bels and hoodes, or 1 wote not what : I desire hym to make sale for mine advantage, askyng what he thinketh will be my losse : he aunswereth not past twelve pounde in the hundred : when I come to receive, I do finde that 1 lose more than twentye in the hundred." Hawks' hoods are again mentioned, with cloth and brown paper, as usurers' com- modities, in Michaelmas Terme, 1607. Some editors of the last century proposed unnecessarily to read, hrown pepper. Gascoigne, in his Steele Glas, calls the encouraging of such extravagance, To teach young men the trade to sell liroicn paper. Yea morrice bells, and byllets too sometimes. To make their coyne a net to catch young frye. The advantage is exactly stated by Greene (ap. Nares) : So that if he borrow an hundred pound, he shall have forty in silver, and three score in wares, as lutestrings, hobby horses, or lirown paper, &c. — Defence of Coney-catchiny, 1592. He (an usurer) falls acquainted with gentlemen, frequents ordinaries and dicing-liouses dayly, where, when some of them at play have lost all their mony, he is very diligent at hand, on their cliaines and bracelets, or jewels, to lend them half the value. At the second time of their coming, it is doubtful to say whether they shall have money or no. The world growes hard, and wee are all mortal ; let him make any assurance before a judge, and they shall have some hundred pounds per consequence, in silks or velvets. The third time if they come, they shall have baser commodities ; the fourth time, lute-strings and grey paper. — Nash's Christes Teares over Jernsatcm, 1594. It is very strongly marked in Lodge's Looking Glasse for London and Englande, 1598, where an usurer being very urgent for the repayment of his debt is NOTES TO THE FOURTH ACT. 185 thus answered, " I pray you, sir, consider that my losse was great by the com- moditie I tooke up ; yon know, sir, I borrowed of you forty pounds, wliereof I had ten pounds in money, and thirtie pounds in lute strhtgs, which when I came to sell againe, I could get but five pounds for them, so had I, sir, but fifteene pounds for my fortie : In consideration of this ill bargaine, I pray you, sir, give me a month longer." But this sort of usury is much older than Shakespeare's time, and is thus curiously described in one of the sermons of Eather Maillard, a celebrated preacher at Paris at the end of the fifteenth century, and whose style very much resembles that of John Whitfield. " Quidam indigens pecunia venit ad thesaurarium supra quem fuerunt assignata mille scuta ; dicit thesaurarius, Ego dabo tibi, sed pro nunc non habeo argentum ; sed expectes usque ad quindecim dies. Pauper dicit, Non possum expectare ; respondet thesaurarius, Dabo tibi unam partem in argento et alia in mercantiis : et illud quod valebit centum scuta, faciet valere ducenta. Hie est usura palliata," — Sermo in feriam, iiii. de Passione. — Donee. Your Lordshipe digged into my auncestores grave, and pulinge him from his three-score and tenne yeares reste, pronounced him an abominable ussurer and a merchante of browne paper, so hatefull and contemptible a creatur that playeres acted him before the Kinge with their greatt applaude. — Letter of Sir John HoUis, 1597, MS. Harl. 36. A small matter : I knowe one spent, in lesse then a yere, eyght and fifty pounds in mustard, and another that ranne in det, in the space of foure or five yeere, above foureteene thousand pound in lute strings and gray paper. — A Pleasant Comedie called Summers Last Will and Testament, 1600. And these are usurers : who for a little money, and a greate deale of trash, as fire-shovels, browne-paper, motley cloake-bags, &c., bring yong novices into a fooles paradice, till they have sealed the morgage of their landes, and then, like pedlers, goe they (or some familiar spirit for them raizde by the usurer) up and downe to cry commodities, which scarce yeeld the third part of that sum for which they take them up. — Lecher s Seven Deadly Sinnes of London, 1606. There be other usurers, which will not lend themselves, but give leave to their wives, and they play like hucksters, that is, every monetli a penny for a shilling, which is one hundred for another in the yeere. But that 1 was informed of them since this sermon was preached, 1 had left out our capitall usurers which will not lend any money, because they dare not require so much gaine as they would have ; but if you would borrow an hundred pound, they will give you wares worth three- score pound, and you shall answere them an hundred pound for it. These are the usurers generall, wliicli lurke about the citie like rats, and wesels, and fulmers, of whom may be said the same which is said of the divels : They seeke whom they may devoure. — -Smitlis Sermons, 1607. There is an account of the ancient practice of borrowing on commodities in Eennor's Compters Commonwealth, 1617, so exceedingly curious, that 1 am tempted to quote it at length : — " But some or one of my young gallants that never gives over plodding with himselfe how hee might get into the bookes of some gold-smith, habberdasher, silk-man, woollen or linnen-draper, hath some broker or other comming earely in a morning and certifies him, that if it pleased him, he should have a commodity that lay ready to bee carried away, if hee would enter into bond for it, nominating the same man that gave him the former repulse. My young heire (whose hart knocks against his ribs for joy) kindely bids the breaker wellcome, sends for a cup of wine, and drinkes to him with all his heart, resolving to entertaine his proffer upon any condition, protesting rather then he will let such a blest opportunity slip, will set his hands to more parchment then a whole flocke of sheepe are able to furnish a scrivener whh ; but my breaker (before instructed by the commodit} -letter) tels him that though he heard him III. 21 186 NOTES TO THE EOUETII ACT. spcake something doubtfull of him, yet if he would be ruled by him, hee >vould undertake to make his credit passe as firme as any farmers or yeomen in Kent ; for (saith hee) I am a great friend of this tradesmans, and make no doubt but may prevaile as much with, him as any man in this towne, especially if you will bee ruled by me ; you must not be too importunate, but as scorntull as he is disdaiuefull, tell him that you are your fathers heire, and that such lands he hath you must inherit, and that the entailement cannot be cut ofP, though he were never so liainous an enemie of yours ; besides, you must tell him you are about to marry some rich widdow, which you know you might win, so that you could but have a hundred pound or two, to put your selfe in good cloatlies. These spels cliarmes my poore prodigall, so at last he and tlie woolfe (that came as legate from the Tyger) go together, and finde my citizen busie in his shop, not taking any notice of their comming, but (as to other passingers) at first askes them what they lack, and what they woidd buy, but boldly they come into the shoppc, and after ac(piaintance taken, the broaker unfoldes the matter, and the occasion of their comming to him, telling him that he came with a friend of his about a commodity, and if hee were a friend, as hee alwaies tooke him to bee, as to condescend to the gentlemans request, and let him have an hundred pound : for (saith he) I know his friends are of faire possessions, he is his fathers eldest son ; besides, on my conscience, he would not trouble you at this present, if he were not to marry with a rich widdow, whom he may lose for want of setting forth, and then no doubt, when the matcli is made up, but he will have an honest care to pay in your money, with a million of thankes for your kindnesse. Kow all the while the broaker is pleading, mine innocent doth second him, and will rather then goe without his trinkets, binde whatsoever the broaker saith with halfe a score oathes. The citizen begins to hearken after this, and protests to my greene gosling, that he would be glad to do any man a pleasure, but that he hath had so many losses alreadie, and that he would bee willing to let him have an hundred pounds worth of commodities, if so be he thought it would redound to his good, and that hee might bee sure at the sixe monetlis end to have his money paid in ; the young gallant protests, the broaker warrants it, and at last, though very loa(t)h, the citizen condescends, but how, thus, that if hee could procure as good a man as liiniselfe to be bound with him, he should have wliat ware he could desire, for, saith he, mans life is fraile and brittle, and you may die a fortnight or a weeke hence, for ought that I know, nay, to-morrow, or soone at night, and then where is mine hundred pound? therefore, good sir, lookc out some of your most especiall and indcered friends, and get one of them to be bound with you, and you shall have the wares at a quarter of an hourcs warning. The tide now is turn'd, and Signior Lnthrift put to his non-plus, and at last fals to intreat Master Broaker to bee the man, who for two or three dales together will by no meanes or perswasions bee won to enter into bond with him, except hee must share halfe. Is not this extreame and almost incredible villany, and most unconscionable dealings, thus to snare in the gentry of the land, and ruine his fortunes but newly in the spring, knowing tliat he will rather let him have three quarters of the commodity tlien goe without it, because, as many others do, hee would goe gallant, have money in his purse, and keepe company with satten and velvet outsides. But suppose the commodities are delivered, after they have both sealed the bonds (you must suppose the heire alwaies to bee the princi])all), how must these hobby-horses, reames of browne paper, Jewes-trumps and babies, babies and rattles, be solde? The gentleman is ashamed to proffer them to sale himselfe ; no, he trusts the otlier that shares halfe ^^ ilh him, to put them off ; who must be hired to sell them, and perliaps, when they are all solde out-right, will have to his owne share three quarters of them." NOTES TO THE EOUETH ACT. 187 Observe but what a cousening looke he has ; Hold up thy head, man ! If for drawing gallants Into mortgages for commodities, cheating heyres With your new counterfeit gold thred and gumm'd velvets. He does not transcend all that went before him, CaU in his patent. — Massingers Bondman, 1024. But Nummius eas'd the needy gallant's care, With a base bargaine of his blowen ware, Of fusted hoppes now lost for lacke of sayle, Or mol'd hrowne-paper that could nought availe. — HalVs Satires. Eor the merchant, he delivered the iron, tin, lead, hops, sugars, spices, oyls, hroicn paper, or whatever else, from six months to six months. Which when the poor gentleman came to sell again, he could not make threescore and ten in the hundred besides the usury. — Greene's Quip for an Upstart Courtier. They bid him, if lie cannot fasten his teeth upon plate, or cloath, or silkes, to lay hold on brown paper, or tobacco, Bartholomew babies, lute-strings or hobnayles, or two hundred pounds in Saint Thomas' onions, and the rest in money; the onions they could get wenches enough to cry, and seU them by the rope, and what remaines should serve them with mutton. — DecJcers English Villanies, 1632. His prime associate. He lay a hundred pound, I guesse by his physiognomy his businesse, Hee is either trudging now unto a broaker, Or to invite some new heire to a breakefast. To scale for the commodity; or else Wandring abroad to skelder for a shilling Amongst your bowling alleyes ; most commonly There lyes his scene ; or perliapps man some whore, A province that he usually adornes. S. Marmyons Fine Companion, 4to. Lond. 1633. — to have been so bit already With taking up commodities of brown paper. Buttons past fashion, silks, and sattins. Babies and children's fiddles, with like trash Took up at a dear rate, and sold for trifles. A New Trich to Cheat the Devil, IG36. — I do bequeath you Commodities of pins, hroicn papers, packthreads, Roast pork and puddings, gingerbread, and Jews-trumps, Of penny pipes, and mouldy pepper. — The Spanish Curate. Ginger was not much in request. Ginger, as Douce observes, was formerly held in very great repute, especially among elderly persons. " I would she were as lying a gossip in that, as ever knapt ginger," Merchant of Venice. " It is very profitable for the aged, for such as are phlegmaticke and full of crude, flatulent moysture in their stomackes, especially in cold and moyst seasons ; but the use of it is not so good in hot seasons, nor for them that are by constitution cholericke," Yenner's Via Recta ad Vitani Longam, ed. 1628, p. 101. " Greene ginger, condite with hony, warmes olde inens bellyes, or dry, moderately used : In liot weather, for olde, phlegmaticke, or troubled with winde," Buttes' Dyets Dry Dinner consisting of eight severall Courses, 1599. The following note is extracted from Douce : 188 NOTES TO THE EOUETH ACT. Sir Thomas Elyot, in his Castle of Health, 1580, says, it comforts the head and stomach, and being green and well confectioned, quickens remembrance, if it be taken in a morning fasting. In Ben Jonson's masque of the Metamorphosed Gipsies, a country wench laments the being robbed of " a dainty race of ginger i'' and in the old play of the Famous Victories of Henry the Eifth, a clown cliarges a thief with having " taken the great race of ginger, that bouncing Besse with the jolly buttocks should have had." In Beaumont and Fletcher's Knight of tlie Burning Pestle, the citizen's wife gives a man who had been soundly beaten some green ginger to comfort him. Ginger M as used likewise to spice ale. In Lodge's Looking Glasse for London and England, the clown says, " lie tell you, sir, if you did taste of the ale, all Ninivie hath not such a cup of ale ; it floures in the cup, sir; by my troth, I spent eleven pence, besides three rases of ginger'' Master Three-pile the mercer. Three-pile velvet was the costliest kind, and, as Nares observes, it seems to have been thought that there was a threefold accumulation of the outer substance, or pile. Mercers, in Shakespeare's time, dealt in other articles besides silks, satins, and velvets. Even pepper is mentioned as an article of their merchandize, in the Rich Cabinet of Excellent Discriptions, 1616, p. 80. More-dew the Mercer, in the AVitts Eecreations, 1654, is represented as dealing in what are now mercer's articles ; and the general-dealing mercer seems to have disappeared about the middle of the seventeenth century. Item, for my lady, fourteene yardes of the best three pylde velvet for a loose gowne, with sixe yards of peach-coloured satine for her petticoate. — Greene's Keires both from Heaven and Hell, 1593. Velvet, in Spanish, is called Tertio-pelo, as much to say in English as three piles. A Spanish courtier promised one of his men his suite of crimson tertio- pelo, viz. of crimson velvet, but wore it himselfe afterward till it became all pill'd and bare, and withall ought his man three quarters wages. It chanced on a day, that, going to the court, he missed his serving-man, and sent another of his men to seeke him out, and to bid him meete him in such a place : Whereunto tlie fellow thus answered the messenger : Tell my maister if he meane I should come waite on him, that he send me my tertio : viz. my three quarters wages, for as for the pelo, \iz. the ijiles, that is already all-too-pill'd. — Copley s Wits, Fits, and Fancies, 1611^. The basilisk and eagle cannot match his eye-siglit, for hee can looke through buffe or three-piled yelvet but with his needles eye. — Stephens' Essayes, 1615. No velvets piles, two piles, pile and halfe pile, No plush, or grograines, could adorne this ile ; No cloth of silver, gold, or tisue, here. — Taylor s TForhes, 1630. For some four suits of peach-colour' d satin. In a sumptuary decree which appeared in 1597, it was ordered that no one under the degree of a knight's eldest son wear satin in " gownes, clokes, coates, or other up])ermost garment," Egerton Papers, p. 250. Then have we here young Dizy. Dizie, ed, 1623 ; Dizy, ed. 1632. This name, observes Steevens, like the rest, must have been designed to convey some meaning. It might have been corrupted from Dicey, i. e. one addicted to dice; or from Bizzy, i. e. giddy, thought- less. Thus, Milton styles the people — " the dizzy multitude." And master Forthright the tiller. The folio of 1623 reads Forthlight, the present reading having been suggested NOTES TO THE EOUHTH ACT. 189 by Dr. Johnson as more appropriate for the name of a tilter. Fortliriglit, a straight line, — Tempest, and Troilus and Cressida. The old copy here prints Mr. for Master, and one critic suggests there is a distinction between gentlemen and tradesmen, the first being misters and the second masters. This seems fanciful. In Shakespeare's time, the usual prefix was Master. There is a ludicrous in- stance in an early book-advertisement, where an edition of Euclid is described as " Master Euclid's Elements of Elaine Geometry." Mr. Dyce quotes the following decisive passage from Sharpham's Eleire, IGIO : ''Jliiff. What gallants use to come to your house ? — Fte. All sorts, all nations, and all trades : there is first Master Gallant your Britaiue, Master Metheglins your Welchman, Mounsieur Mustroome [sic] the Erenchman, Segniour Eumada the Spaniard, Master Oscabath the Irishman, and Master Shamrougli his Lackey ; O, and Master Slopdragon the Dutchman. Then for your tradesmen, there comes first Master Saluberrimum the Physitian, Master Smooth the silkeman, Master Thimble the Taylor, Master Blade the Cutler, and Master Eowell the Spurrier; hwi Master Match the Gunner of Tower-hill comes often." It is worth observation that Eitsou defends the old reading, Fortlitiglit, as it " probably contains an allusion to the fencer's threat of making the light shine through, his antagonist," Hemarks, 1783, p. 24 ^° And hrave master Slioe-tie, the great traveller. "And brave Mr. Shootie," ed. 1623. The word seems formerly to have been pronounced shooty: at least, it is made to rhyme with duty in Hudibras, if that be any proof. Some editors unnecessarily read Shooter. As the person described was a traveller, observes Steevens, it is not unlikely that he might be solicitous about the minutiae of dress ; and the epithet Itrave, or shoivy, seems to countenance the supposition. Sweet-faced Corinna, daine the riband tie Of thy corke-shooe, or els thy slave will die. — Marstons Satires. That so much scarf of Erance, and hat and feather. And shoe, and tye, and garter, should come hither. Ben Jonsons Epigram iipon English Monsieur. So, in Decker's Match me in London, 1631 : — " I think your wedding shoes have not been oft untied^ Again, in Randolph's Muses' Looking Glass, 1638 : — " Bending his supple hams, kissing his hands, honouring shoe-strings.'''' — Steevens. And icild Half-can that staWd pots. The last word is generally printed as if it were a proper name, but the meaning, I think, refers to a person who was so accustomed to excessive potations, that he hacked at the pots out of which he had been drinking. The word is not printed, in the first folio, in italics, which is generally the case with proper names. In the year 1604, says Wilson the liistorian, " the sword and buckler trade being out of date, diverse sects of vitious persons, under the title of roaring boys, bravadoes, roysters, &c. commit many insolencies ; the streets swarm night and day with quarrels : private duels are fomented, especially between the English and Scotch : and great feuds between protestants and papists." A proclamation was published to restrain these enormities ; which proving ineffectual, the legislature interposed, and the act commonly called the statute of stabbing, 1 Jac. I. c. 8, was made. This statute, as Sir Michael Eoster observes, was principally intended to put a stop to the outrages above enumerated, " committed by persons of inflamma- ble spirits and deep resentment, who, wearing short daggers under their cloaths, were too well prepared to do quick and efi^ectual execution upon provocations ex- 190 NOTES TO THE EOURTII ACT. trcMnoly slight." King James's first parliament met on the 19th of ]\Iarch, 1003-1;, and sat till the 7tli of July following. From the time of James's ac- cession to the throne great animosity subsisted bet\veen the English and Scotch ; and many of the outrageous acts which gave rise to the statute of stabbing, had been committed in the preceding year, about the end of which year I suppose Measure for Measure to have been written. — Malone. All great doers in 02ir trade. The term trade was licentious and technical. Lit. Tis no matter so long as his purse is well cram'd. — Cro. His purse that shee lookcs after is lanke enough I warrant it ; it greives mee to the heart, that such a young beginner as my mistrisse should have no better hopes of trading. — The Fine Companion, 1033. And lest they should be lost, it is ordain'd. That bookes within a library are chain'd ; So he that to himselfe will keepe a whore, Must chaine her, or shee'le trade with forty more. Taylors iforlces, fol. Lond. 1030. And are now for the Lord's saTce. That is, they are now reduced to beggary, to pray a donation to the prisoners' poor-box, the cry for M'hich was, — For the Lord's sake, for the Lord's sake ! The annexed curious representation of a prisoner soliciting alms in this way is taken from the engraved frontispiece to BraithM ait's Honest Ghost, or a Voice from the Vault, 12mo. 1058. Even within the present century, the Fleet prison had a sort of iron cage, in which one of the debtors on the poor side rattled a money-box, exclaiming, " Pray remember the poor debtors." Sharpham, in his comedy of the Fleire, mentions a "very prisoner's box that's ope for every man's benevolence ;" and a character in Cupid's Whirligig observes, — " I am none of these Ludgations that beg for foure score and ten poore men ; my suite is only for myselfe." It appears, says Malone, from a poem entitled. Paper's Com])laint, printed in Davies's ' Scourge of Folly, con- sisting of satyricall Epigramms,' &c., about the year 1011, that this was the language in which prisoners who were confined for debt, addressed passengers : Good gentle writers, /or the Ljord saTce,for the Lord sake. Like Liidgate prisner, lo, I, begging, make My mone to you. Again, in Nashe's Apologie of Pierce Pennilesse, 1593 : — "At that time that thy joys were in the Fleet'm^, and thou crying/or the Lord's sake, out at an iron window, in a lane not far from Ludgate-hill." — Malone. A very curious passage in confirmation of this has occurred to Mr. Singer in Baret's Alvearie, 1573,\mder the word 'Interest, or the borrowing of usurie money wherewith to pay my debt.' — 'And therefore methinke it is prettily sayd in Grammar that Interest will be joyned w^ith Mea, Tua, Sua, Nostra, Vestra, and Cilia, only in the ablative case, because they are pronounes possessives. For how great so ever his possessions, goodes, or lands be that haunteth the com- pany of this impersonall, if now perchance he be able to kepe three persons, at length he shall not be able to kepe one : yea he himselfe shall shortly become NOTES TO THE FOUUTH ACT. 191 such an impersonall, that he shall be counted as nobody, without any countenance, credit, person, or estimation among men. And when he hath thus filched, and fleeced his possessive so long till he hath made him as rich as a new sliorn slieepe, then will he turn him to commons into Liidgate: where for his ablative case he shall have a dative cage, craving and crying at the grate, yotir worships' charitie for the Lord's sahe.' Well, Jupiter, we shall have Plutus lodge you in Ludgate shortly to take up your shop, and make your thunderbolts there, and cry lamentably, ' For the Lord's sake. Bread, bread for the poore prisoners ;' unlesse you can morgage the golden or silver age to give better security to your creditour. — Randolph's Pleasant Coniedie entittded, Hey for Honesty, 1651. 1 had quickly enough of this sort of company : for I found most of 'em as wicked as my self, and therefore had little need of a temptator. Upon which I jump'd thro' the grate of the legging tcindoio under the arch, and chanc'd to fall thro' the chink into the prisoners money-box, but found it so empty that I could not forbear thinking, if any thing damn'd this magnificent city, it must be the want of charitv. I tliouo-ht it a "'reat dishonour for so generous a spirit as a devil to be caught picking of the poor's box, so made as quick a repassage as I could into the open air, lest some liberal doctor of the holy law should have stopt up the cranny with a crown piece, and have pounded my devilship within the iron area ; but have since found 1 was more affraid than hurt, for that the charity of the church loves home so well, it seldom comes abroad a visiting. — The Infernal Wanderer, 1702, p. 5. Pope reads — and are now in for the Lord's sake, perhaps unnecessarily. In King Henry lY, Part L, FalstaflP says — "there's not three of my hundred and fifty left alive ; and they are for the town's end, — to beg during life." — Malone. '^^ Is the axe upon the hloch, sirrah? There is some little confusion in what the Clown says respecting the mode in which Barnardine is to be executed. The axe and block are spoken of, but the former keeps insisting upon it that he is to be hanged. It is possible this is intentional, to heighten the Clown's humour. / would desire you to clap into your prayers. Clap, to strike, to strike off. Hence, to commence very briskly, to set to work at once. " Shall we clap into't roundly, without hawking or spitting," As You Like It. LooJc forifard on the journey you shall go. AYe are now Going our latest journey, and together. Our only comfort ; we desire, pray give it. Your charity to our ashes. Beaumont and Fletcher s Custom qj the Country, act v. sc. 4. ""^ After him, fellows : bring him to the hloch. Dr. Johnson proposes to assign this line, as well as the next, to the Provost, but T}Tvvhitt observes, the latter, by his question to the Duke, appears to be ignorant of every thing that has passed between him and Barnardine. The fact seems to be that, in strict propriety, the line would be more correctly spoken by the Provost ; but it should be recollected that the Duke is speaking in disgust at Barnardine's language, and may well 'be imagined to have momentarily forgotten his resignment of authority. 192 NOTES TO THE EOURTH ACT. To transport liim hi the mind he is. To transport, to remove liim, that is, to tlie next world. " To transport, Carrie or convey over, remove from one place to another," Cotgrave. One Bagozine, a most notorious pirate. AVherever Shakespeare met Avith the name of Eagozine, it sliould seem to be a metathesis of the French Argousin, or the Itahan Argosino, an officer or heutenant on board a galley ; and, as Menage conjectures, a corruption of the Spanish Ahjiiasit. See Carpentier, Sup])l. ad gloss. Dufresne, under the word Argoisitlo. — Bonce. " llogavine," ed. 16S5. ^° Till he were icell inclined. They must omit him (or the hanging him) a great M'hile before the prisoner woidd be well inclined to submit but " inclined " here means " disposed " or " prepared " for death, by religious exercises. — Sei/mour. This critic unnecessarily proposes to omit do in the previous line, on account of the metre. To yonder generation. Yond, ed. 1623. Mr. Knight's criticism on this line seems preferable to the notes of the other commentators : — " The original is yond, in which the printer no doubt followed the contraction of the writer. But in modern editions we have the generation, "which change," Johnson says, "was made by Hanmer witli true judgment." Shakespeare has, indeed, in Eichard II., alluded to the antijjodes in a poetical tigure ; — AVhen tlie searching eye of heaven is hid Behind tlie globe, that lights the lower w^orld. But wliat is gained in the passage before us by perplexing the time when the Duke assure? the Provost he shall find his safety manifested ? The scene takes place before the dawning : Claudio is to be executed by four of the clock ; the Duke says — 'As near the dawning, provost, as it is, you shall hear more ere morning.' Subsequently, when the morning is come, Isabella is told ' the Duke comes home to-morrov\ Speaking, then, in the dark prison, before sunrise, nothing can be more explicit than the Duke's statement that before the sun has twice made his daily greeting to yonder generation, — that is, to the life without the walls, — the Provost shall be assured of his safety. But at the time when he was speaking, it ^^■ould be evening at the antipodes ; and if the Provost waited for his safety till the sun had twice risen upon the under generation, he would have to wait till a third day before he received that assurance : and this contradicts what is afterwards said of to-morroicT — " Yonder generations," Chedworth's Notes, 1805, p. 41. '^^ To meet me at the consecrated fount. Barnaby Ixich, in his New Description of Ireland, 1610, has a very curious chapter on holy wells, describing several in that country, and enumerating their virtues. " I might," he says, " speak of divers other wels, for I think there is neyther apostle nor patriarch that never came neere unto Ireland, and yet there be Welles, fountaines, and other holy places tliat be attributed unto them : but if I sliould speake of the wonders and myracles which they say are wrought there, it would make a more admirable history then that of Sir John Mandevile : it woulde undoo all the physitians in England and Ireland : for at those holy wels, and at many other of those sanctified places, the blinde are made to see, the lame are made to goe, the cripple is restored to his limbes, or what disease soever, never so strange, never so inveterate, which is not there cured." NOTES TO THE EOUETH ACT. 193 '^^ By cold gradation and tcell-halanced form. That is, slowly and majestically. The old copy reads weale-hallanc' d, corrected by Pope. " And the well-balanc'd world on hinges hung," Milton. Wheii it is least expected. A better reason might have been given. It was necessary to keep Isabella in ignorance, that she might with more keenness accuse the deputy. — Johnson. ''^ And you shall have your bosom on this wretch. Your bosom, that is, your wish, your heart's desire. — Dr. Johnson. So, in the next line, — " revenges to your heart." Say, by this token. The method of inculcating the trustworthiness of a messenger by the mention of a token or circumstance, was exceedingly common in Shakespeare's time ; and the following extract from a letter from Daniel Baker to Richard Quiney, 1598, the original of which is preserved in the Corporation archives of Stratford-on-Avon, will be sufficient to illustrate the practice : — " Yflf it bee not paid, and that you canot procure monie to paie it for mee, then I pray you take so moch paines as to goe to Mr. Spencer and borow so moch for mee, or even 4//., by that toal-en that hee promysed that Edward Tybbates should com to Stretford to take band of my brother Sturlie and mee for 50/?"., and I know hee will not sale mee naie." '^'^ I am combined by a sacred vo w. Combine seems to be here used in an oblique sense from combine, to join hands in contract. " Combining hands," Historye of Captaine Stukeley, 1605. Dr. Johnson proposed to read confined, but afterwards withdrew the conjecture. And let me charge thee now, as thou art mine, And as thy veines mine owne true blood combine. Chapman s tr. of Homer s Odysses, p. 251. '^^ The old fantastical duke of dark corners. Hanmer alters old to odd, but, as Johnson observes, the former is a common word of aggravation in ludicrous language. " Has not his lordship's virtue once gone against the hair, and coveted corners," Westward Hoe, 1607. " There is nothing I have done yet, o' my conscience, deserves a corner," Henry VIII. Nunc et latentis proditor intimo Gratus puellse risus ab angulo. — Uorat. '^'^ The best is, he lives not in them. That is, he exists not in the kind of life indicated by your slanders. " The practise of it lives in John the Bastard," Much Ado about Nothing, act iv. ^'^ He's a better woodman than thou takest him for. " "Woodmen seeme to be those in the forest that have their charge especially to looke to the King's woods," Cowell's Interpreter, ed. 1637. "And wondre ye not though I sey wodemanly, for it is a poynt of a wodemannys crafte; and though it be wele fittyng to an hunter to kun it, yet natheles it longeth more to a wode- mannys crafte," Boke of Huntyng, MS. The above is the primitive sense of the word, but it came to be often used in Shakespeare's time, and afterwards, as nearly synonymous with a hunter in woods, especially one who chased deer. Several attorneys and others, " all men of mettall, and good woodmen, I mean old notorious deer stealers,well armed, came in the night-time to Michaelwood,with deer-nets and dogs, to steale deer," Fosbroke's Hist. Glouc. i. 125. " He is no woodman that III. 25 191 NOTES TO THE FOURTH ACT. dolb bend his bow, To strike a poor unseasonable doe," Eape of Lucrece, 1594. "A good huntsman is a good woodman," Taybr's AVorkes, 1630. The two woodmen, in Beaumont and Eletcher's Phihister,'l622, are simply foresters, one of whom has lodged the deer, and the other swears by his bow. The term is used in the text in a metaphorical and wanton sense, another instance of a similar usage occuring in the Eaithful Shepherdess, — " when I leave to be the true admirer of thy chastity, let me deserve the hot polluted name of a wild woodman." Compare the Cliances, ed. 1G17, p. 4, — " AYell, well, sonne John, I see ye are a woodman, and can chuse your deere, though it be i' th' darke." Ealstalf,*in Windsor Park, asks his mistresses wdiether he is not a woodman. ®^ Else have married me to the rotten medlar. Her teeth are fallen out ; marry, her nose and chin intend very shortly to be friends, and meet about it. Her years are sixty and odd ; that she counts her best time of trading ; for a haicd is like a medlar, she is not ripe, till she be rotten. — Ticelve Ingenious Characters, 1680. ^" In most uneven and distracted manner. This is printed as prose in the first foho, and no doubt rightly. One editor lias unsuccessfully endeavoured to convert it into poetry. And re-deliver our authorities there. "Reliver," ed. 1623; "deliver," ed. 1632, which latter is perhaps the correct reading, but it is not Avorth while to disturb the ordinarily received text. ®* Give notice to such men of sort and suit. " Sort and suit," figure and rank. — Johnson. Kot so, as I imagine, in this passage. In the feudal times all vassals were bound to hold suit and service to their over-lord ; that is, to be ready at all times to attend and serve him, either when summoned to his courts, or to his standard in war. " Such men of sort and suit as are to meet him," I presume, means the duke's vassals or tenants in capite. — Edinburgh ]\Iagazine, Nov. 1786. — Steevens. Makes me unpregnant. In the first scene the duke says that Escalus is pregnant, that is, ready in the forms of law. TJnpregnant, therefore, in the instance before us, is iinready, unpre- pared.— Steevens. How might she tongue me. The similar verb is used in Greek, — 'sTnyXwoaao/zn/. "A dish of tongue, a good scolding, a smart reproof," Craven Glossary, ii. 213. "And toong-ripe in her rhetorick doth run," Cutwode's Caltha Poetarum, 1599. Yet reason dares her no. No is here used for not, as in A Wife foraMoneth, ed. 1647, p. 61, — " I am sure he did not, for I charg'd him no ;" and again, in the Comedy of Errors, — "if no, then thou art doom'd to die." Yet reason dares her not, that is, her reason or reflection does not challenge or prompt her to tongue me, will not make her dare to do it. " Unless a brother should a brother dare to gentle exercise," Henry IV". " AMiat dares not Warwick, if false Suffolk dare him," Henry VI. Theoba d suggests, " dares her note ;" and some editors place a break after dares, with the following explanation, — " That is, yet the reason and justice of her cause may possibly furnish her with boldness enough to surmount even her regard for her own honour, which must necessarily suffer by the discovery. No, upon better con- NOTES TO THE EOURTH ACT. 195 sideration, neither can this motive have any influence : for how can she hope to be beheved in contradiction to so established a character as mine?" For my authority hears off a credent hulk. That is, my authority or office bears off, carries with it, or invests me with a bulk or body so credent, enforcing credit, that no private scandal can be spoken without at once recoiling on the person who utters it. In the first folio, off is spelled of, but these two words were often interchangeable in the old orthogra})hy. If the latter be retained, it may be considered one of the many instances of redun- dant prepositions. Various unnecessary emendations have been suggested, e. g., — my authority bears a credent bulk — my authority bears such a credent bulk— my authority bears so credent bulk — my authority bears off a credence. The last named alteration occurs in an annotated copy of the fourth folio in the possession of Mr. Quincy of Boston. Mr. Singer, Shakespeare Vindicated, p. 13, proposes, — " For my authority here's of a credent bulk." The hulhe of man's as darke as Erebus, No branch of Reason's light hangs in his trunke. Marstoiis Antonio and Mellida, 4to. Lond. 1602. No force for that, my might commaundeth right : Her privie maime her open cryes will staye ; Or, if not so, my frowning wiU hir fright. And thus shall rule conceale my filthy deede. Whetstones Promos and Cassandra, 1578. With dangerous sense. " With a feeling of his wrongs that might suggest a dangerous revenge : dangerous sense is formidable indignation," Seymour, who proposes to read, in the next line but one, "/or so receiving." ^° Alach, ti'hen once our grace we have forgot. " Eor that man's darke, where heaven is quite forgot," Yorkshire Tragedie, not so New as Lamentable and True, ed. I6I9. Nothing goes right ; we looidd, and we 'would not. Here undoubtedly the act should end, and was ended by the poet ; for here is properly a cessation of action, and a night intervenes, and the place is changed, between the passages of this scene and those of the next. The next act beginning with the following scene, proceeds without any interruption of time or change of place. — Johnson. These letters at fit time deliver me. The pronoun me is redundant, as in numerous other cases. These letters do not necessarily refer to the introduction of Peter in the next act, for the friar, as Johnson observes, tells his story without any credentials. This play has two friars, either of whom might singly have served. I should therefore imagine that Eriar Thomas, in the first act, might be changed, without any harm, to Eriar Peter ; for why should the Duke unnecessarily trust two in an affair which required only one ? The name of Eriar Thomas is never mentioned in the dialogue, and therefore seems arbitrarily placed at the head of the scene. — Johnson. 196 NOTES TO THE FOUETH ACT. To Valentinus. This is printed Valencius in ed. 1623. The above, the usual coiTection, was probably suggested by the name of Valentinus in the Two Gentlemen of A erona. And hid them bring the trumpets to the gate. Mr. Fairholt has kindly furnished me with the following interesting note and illustration of this passage : — " The custom of placing trumpeters at the gates of a town upon the approach of noble personages was one of constant occurrence in the middle ages, and the illuminated MSS. frequently depict these scenes, particularly those which illustrate the Chronicles of Eroissart and Monstrelet. The annexed illustration is copied from one of the earliest printed books descriptive of a royal pageant, entitled, ' La tryumphante et solemnelle entree faicte sur le novuel et ioyeus advenement de tres hault, tres puissant, et tres excellent prince Monseieur Charles prince des Hes- paignes, Archiduc d'Austrice, Due de Bourgougne, Comte de Elandres, &c., en sa ville de Bruges I'an mil. V. cen. xv.' The Pageant was printed the same year in Paris by Gilles de Tourmont, and contains a curious series of wood-cuts illustrative of the sliows and ceremonies exhibited on the occasion. The engraving represents the Gate of the City (la porte Saincte Croix) by which Charles (afterwards the Emperor Charles V) entered ; the trumpeters being arranged to receive him upon the battlements above the draw- bridge." 95 To speak so indirectly, I am loath. AYithout the warrant or direction of truth, or it may be, deviating from the direct course of truth. — Seymour. He says, to veil full put-pose. " He saies, to vaile full purpose," ed. 1G23. Veil was commonly spelt rail, as in the Merchant of Venice, fol. ed., p. 174, — "the beautious scarfe vailing an Indian beautie." To veil full purpose, that is, to conceal the whole extent of the design. Theobald proposed to read, " t'availful purpose," and L^pton, "to 'vailful purpose," the latter a common aphseresis in early English. There does not appear to be any real necessity for disturbing the original text. The generous and gravest citizens. That is, the most nolle, &c. Generous is here used in its Latin sense. " Virgo generosa et nobilis," Cicero. Shakespeare uses it again in Othello. — Steevens. Have hent the gates. Hente, to seize, hold, or take, A.-S. It is here the participle past, — have seized or taken possession of the gates. " I hente, I take by vyolence, or to catche," Palsgrave. " Every knyght his stede hente," Syr Tryamoure. But chiefly good Aeneas did the case full sore lament Of stout Orontes and Amicus, whom the seas iiad hent ; NOTES TO THE FOURTH ACT. 197 And otherwhiles he sighed sore for Licus pittious fall, And mig'htie Gias and Cloanthus mournd he most of all. Virgil, translated by Thomas Phaer, 1600. Mo. Hent him, for dern love heiit him ; I done drad His visage foul, yfrounct with glowing eyn. Have. I come t' excuse my ruder usage of you. I was in drink when that I did it ; 'twas The plot of those base knaves, I hear are gone, To teach me valour by the strength of wine ; Naming that courage which was only fury. Cartwrighf s Ordimrt/, 8vo. Land. 1651. d i^t Jfift|. SCENE. — A public Place near the City Gate. Mariana [veiled), Isabella, and Peter, at a distance. Enter, at opposite sides,^ Duke, Varrius, Lords; Angelo, Escalus, Lucio, Provost, Officers, and Citizens. Duke. My very worthy cousin, fairly met : — Our old and faithful friend, we are glad to see you. Auff. and Escal. Happy return be to your royal grace ! Duke. Many and hearty thankings to you both. We have made inquiry of you ; and we hear Such goodness of your justice, that our soul Cannot but yield you forth to pubUc thanks, Forerunning more requital. Ang, You make my bonds still greater. Duke. O, your desert speaks loud \ and I should wrong it. To lock it in the wards of covert bosom. When it deserves w ith characters of brass A forted residence, 'gainst the tooth of time. And razure of oblivion. Give me your hand. And let the subject see, to make them know That outward courtesies would fain proclaim Favours that keep within. — Come, Escalus, You must walk by us on our other hand ; And good supporters are you. 200 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. [act v. Friar Peter and Isabella come forward. F. Peter. Now is your time; speak loud, and kneel before him. Isah. Justice, O royal duke! Vail your reg-ard^ Upon a wrong'd, I woidd fain haye said, a maid I O, worthy prince, dishonour not your eye By throwing it on any other object. Till you haye heard me in my true complaint, And giyen me justice, justice, justice, justice! Duke. Relate your wrono:s: In what? By whom? Be brief; Here is Lord Angelo shall give you justice ! Reyeal yourself to him. Isab. O, worthy duke, You bid me seek redemption of the devil : Hear me yourself ; for that which I must speak ^lust either punish me, not being beliey'd. Or wring redress from you : hear me, O, hear me here ! An(/. My lord, her wits, I fear me, are not firm : She hath been a suitor to me for her brother Cut off by course of justice! Isab. By course of justice ! A)i(/. And she will speak most bitterly, and strange. Isab. ^lost strange, but yet most truly, will I speak : That Angelo 's forsworn; is it not strange? That Angelo 's a murderer ; is 't not strange ? That Angelo is an adulterous thief, An hypocrite, a yirgin violator ; Is it not strange, and strange? Duke. Nay, it is ten times strange. Isab. It is not truer he is Angelo, Than this is all as true as it is strange; Nay, it is ten times true ; for truth is truth To th' end of reck'ning.* Duke. Away with her; — Poor soul, She speaks this in th' infirmity of sense. Isab. O, prince, I conjure thee, as thou believ'st There is another comfort than this world. That thou neglect me not, with that opinion That I am touch'd with madness ; make not impossible That which but seems unlike: 't is not impossible But one, the wicked'st caitiflP on the ground, ACT v.] MEASUEE EOU MEASURE. May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute,^ As Angelo; even so may Angelo, In all his dressings, characts, titles, forms,^ Be an arch villain; believe it, royal prince; If he be less, he 's nothing ; but he 's more, Had I more name for badness. Duke. By mine honesty. If she be mad, as I believe no other. Her madness hath the oddest frame of sense. Such a dependency of thing on thing, As e'er I heard in madness.^ Isab. O, gracious duke, Harp not on that: nor do not banish reason For inequality;^ but let your reason serve To make the truth appear where it seems hid. And hide the false seems true.*^ Duke. Many that are not mad. Have, sure, more lack of reason. — What would you say? Isah. I am the sister of one Claudio, Condemn'd upon the act of fornication To lose his head; condemn'd by Angelo: I, in probation of a sisterhood, Was sent to by my brother: one Lucio, As then the messenger ; — Lucio. That's I, an 't like your grace : I came to her from Claudio, and desir'd her To try her gracious fortune with lord Angelo, For her poor brother's pardon. Isab. That's he, indeed. Duke. You were not bid to sj)eak. Lucio. No, my good lord; Nor wish'd to hold my peace. Duke. I wish you now then ; Pray you, take note of it : and when you have A business for yourself, pray heaven you then Be perfect. Lucio. I warrant your honour. Duke. The warrant 's for yourself; take heed to 't. Isah. This gentleman told somewhat of my tale. Lucio. Right. Duke. It may be right ; but you are i' the wrong To speak before your time. — Proceed. III? 26 202 MEASUEE EOH MEASUUE. [act v. Isab. I went To this pernicious caitiff deputy. Duke. That 's somewhat madly spoken. Isab. Pardon it; The phrase is to the matter.^^ I)uhe. Mended again : the matter : — Proceed. Isab. In hrief, — to set the needless process hy, How I persuaded, how I pray'd, and kneel'd, How he refell'd me/^ and how I replied, (For this was of much length) ; the vild conclusion I now hegin with grief and shame to utter: He would not, hut hy gift of my chaste body To his concupiscible intemperate lust/" Release my brother ; and, after much debatement, IVIy sisterly remorse confutes mine honour, And I did yield to him. But the next morn betimes, His purpose surfeiting,^^ he sends a warrant For my poor brother's head. Duke. This is most likely ! Isab. O, that it were as like as it is true!'^ Duke. By heaven ! fond wretch/' thou know'st not what thou speakst, Or else thou art suborn'd against his honour. In hateful practice. First, his integrity Stands without blemish: — next, it imports no reason, That with such vehemency he should pursue Faults proper to himself: if he had so offended, He would have weigh'd thy brother by himself. And not have cut him off. Some one hath set vou on , Confess the truth, and say by whose advice Thou cam'st here to complain. Isab. And is this all? Then, oh, you blessed ministers above, Keep me in patience; and, with ripened time, Unfold the evil which is here wrapp'd up In countenance — Heaven shield your grace from woe. As I, thus wrong'd, hence unbelieved go! IJifke. I know, you 'd fain be gone: — An officer! To prison ^^ith her! Shall we thus permit A blasting and a scandalous breath to fall On him so near us? This needs must be a practice." Who knew of your intent, and coming hither? ACT v.] MEASURE EOE MEASURE. 203 Isah. One that I would were here, friar Lodowick. Duke. A ghostly father, belike ; who knows that Lodowiek ? Lucio. My lord, I know him ; 't is a meddling friar ; I do not like the man : had he been lay, my lord, For certain words he spake against your grace In your retirement, I had swing'd him soundly. Duke. Words against me? This' a good friar, belike! And to set on this wretched woman here Against our substitute! — Let this friar be found. Lucio. But yesternight, my lord, she and that friar I saw them at the prison : a saucy friar, A very scurvy fellow. F. Peter. Blessed be your royal grace ! I have stood by, my lord, and I have heard Your roval ear abus'd. First, hath this woman IMost wrongfully accus'd your substitute. Who is as free from touch or soil with her. As she from one ungot. Duke. We did believe no less. Know you that friar Lodowick that she speaks of? F. Feter. I know him for a man divine and holy ; Not scurvy, nor a temporary meddler, As he 's reported by this gentleman ; And, on my trust,^^ a man that never yet Did, as he vouches, niisreport your grace. Lucio. My lord, most villainously; believe it. F. Peter. Well, he in time mav come to clear himself; But at this instant he is sick, my lord. Of a strange fever. Upon his mere request, (Being come to knowledge that there was complaint Intended 'gainst lord Angelo), came I hither. To speak, as from his mouth, what he doth know Is true, and false ; and what he with his oath, And all probation, will make up full clear, AVhensoever he 's convented.~° First, for this woman; (To justify this worthy nobleman. So vulgarly'^ and personally accused). Her shall you hear disproved to her eyes, Till she herself confess it. Duke. Good friar, let 's liear it. [Isabella is carried ojff\ guarded ; a)id Mariana comes forward. 204i MEASUEE EOE MEASUEE. [act v. Do A'oii not smile at this, lord Aiigelo ? 0 heaven ! the vanity of wretched fools ! — Give us some seats. — Come, eousin xingelo; In this I '11 he impartial he you judge Of your own cause. — Is this the witness, friar? First, let her show her face; and, after, speak. Mari. Pardon, my lord ; I will not show my face. Until my liushand bid me. DuAe. What, are you married? 3Ia)'i No, my lord. Duke. Ai'C you a maid? Mari. No, my lord. Di(ke. A widow then? 3Iari. Neither, my lord. Bide. Why, you Are nothing then : — Neither maid, widow, nor Avife ?'^ Lucio. My lord, she may he a punk; for many of them are neither maid, widow, nor wife. Duhe. Silence that fellow : I would, he had some cause To prattle for himself. Lucio. Well, my lord. 3Iari. ^ly lord, I do confess I ne'er was married ; And, I confess, hesides, I am no maid : 1 have known my husband ; yet my husband knows not, That ever he knew me. Lucio. lie Avas drunk then, my lord ; it can be no better. Duke. For the benefit of silence, would thou wert so too ! Lucio. Well, my lord. Duke. This is no witness for lord Ang-elo. Mari. Now I come to *t, my lord: She, that accuses him of fornication. In self-same manner doth accuse my husband; And charges him, my lord, with such a time. When I '11 depose I had him in mine arms, With all til' effect of love. ^ifff. Charges she more than me? Mari. Not that I know. Duke. No ? you say, your husband. Mari. Why, just my lord, and that is Angelo, Who thinks, he knows that he ne'er knew my body. But knoAA s, he thinks that he knows Isabel's. Aiif/. This is a strange abuse — Let 's see thy face. ACT v.] MEASURE EOR MEASURE. 205 Mari. My husband bids me; now I will unmask. [UnveiUtKj. This is that face, thou cruel Angelo, Which once thou swor'st was worth the looking on : This is the hand which, with a vow'd contract, Was fast belock'd in thine : this is the body That took away the match from Isabel, And did supply thee at thy garden-house,^^ In her imagin'd person. Duke. Know you this woman? Lucio. Carnally, she says. Duke. Sirrah, no more ! Lucio. Enough, my lord. Ang. My lord, I must confess I know this wo man : And, five years since, there was some speech of marriage Betwixt myself and her; which was broke off. Partly, for that her promis'd proportions Came short of composition;^*^ but, in chief. For that her reputation was disvalued In levity : since which time of five years, I never spake with her, saw her, nor heard from her, Upon my faith and honour. Marl. Noble prince. As there comes light from heaven, and words from breath. As there is sense in truth, and truth in virtue, I am affianced this man's wife, as strongly As words could make up vows : and, my good lord. But Tuesday night last gone, in 's garden-house. He knew me as a wife. As this is true, Let me in safety raise me from my knees ; Or else for ever be confixed here, A marble monument. Auff. 1 did but smile tiU now; Now, good my lord, give me the scope of justice ; My patience here is touch'd: I do perceive, These poor informal'^ women are no more But instruments of some more mightier member. That sets them on : Let me have way, my lord. To find this practice out. Duke. Ay, with my heart; And punish them to your height of pleasure. Thou foolish friar; and thou pernicious woman. Compact with her that 's gone ! think'st thou thy oaths, 200 MEASURE FOR MEASURE. [act v. Though they would swear down eaeh partieular saint,"" AYerc testhnonies against his worth and credit, That "s seal'd in approhation — You, lord Esealus, Sit with my cousin; lend him your kind pains To find out this ahuse, whence 't is deriv'd : There is another friar that set them on; Let him be sent for. F. Peter. W ould he were here, my lord ; for he, indeed, Hath set the women on to this complaint : Your provost knows the place where he abides, And he may fetch him. Duke. Go, do it instantly. — \Ejcit Provost. And you, my noble and well-warranted cousin. Whom it concerns to hear this matter forth/^ Do with your injuries, as seems you best, In any chastisement. I for a while Will leave you ; but stir not you, till you have Well determin'd upon these slanderers. Eseal. My lord, we '11 do it throughly.^' — [_Ex'd Duke.] Signior Lucio, did not you say you knew that friar Lodowick to be a dishonest person? Lucio. CucuUus non facit monaclium: honest in nothing, but in his clothes ; and one that hath spoke most villainous speeches of the duke. Escal. ^A'e shall entreat you to abide here till he come, and enforce them against him: we shall find this friar a notable fellow. Lucio. As any in Yienna, on my word. Escal. Call that same Isabel here once again \ to cm Attendant]; I would speak with her. Pray you, my lord, give me leave to question ; you shall see how 1 11 handle her. Lucio. TSot better than he, by her own report. Escal. Say you ? Lucio. ^larry, sir, I think if you handled her privately, she would sooner confess : perchance, pablicly, she '11 be ashamed. Re-enter Ofl&cers, icith Isabella ; the Duke in the Friar's habit, and Provost. Escal. I will go darkly to work with her. Lucio. That 's the way; for women are light at midnight. Escal. Come on, mistress \to Isabella]: here's a gentle- woman denies aU that you have said. ACT V.J MEASURE EOR MEASUEE. 207 Lucio. My lord, here comes the rascal I spoke of ; here with the provost. Escal. In very good time : — speak not you to him, till we call upon you. Lucio. Mum. Escal. Come, sir : Did you set these women on to slander lord Angelo? They have confess'd you did. Duke. 'Tis false. Escal. How ! know you where you are? Duhe. Respect to your great place and let the devil Be sometime honoured for his burning throne ! Where is the duke? 't is he should hear me speak. Escal. The duke 's in us ; and we will hear you speak : Look, you speak justly. Duke. Boldly, at least. But, O, poor souls, Come you to seek the lamb here of the fox, Good night to your redress. Is the duke gone? Then is your cause gone too. The duke 's unjust Thus to retort your manifest appeal,^' And put your trial in the villain's mouth, Which here you come to accuse. Lucio. This is the rascal ; this is he I spoke of. Escal. Why, thou unreverend and unhallowed friar ! Is 't not enough, thou hast suborn'd these women To accuse this worthy man; but, in foul mouth. And in the witness of his proper ear. To call him villain? and then to glance from him To th' duke himself, to tax him with injustice? Take him hence : to th' rack with him i^" — We '11 touse you joint by joint. But we will know his purpose What! unjust? Duke. Be not so hot; the duke Dare no more stretch this finger of mine, than he Dare rack his own; his subject am I not. Nor here provincial:^* My business in this state Made me a looker-on here in Vienna, Where I have seen corruption boil and bubble. Till it o'errun the stew -^^ laws for all faults. But faults so countenanc'd, that the strong statutes Stand like the forfeits in a barber's shop,*° As much in mock as mark. 208 MEASURE EOE MEASURE. [act v. Escnl. Slander to the state! Away with him to prison. An(/. What can you vouch against him, signior Lucio? Is this the man that you did tell us of? Lucio. 'T is he, my lord. Come hither, goodman haldpate : Do you know me? 1) 1(1x6. I rememher you, sir, hy the sound of your voice : I met you at the prison, in the ahsence of the duice. Lucio. O, did you so ? And do you rememher what you said of the duke ? Duke. ^lost notedly, sir. Lucio. Do you so, sir? And was the duke a fleshmonger, a fool, and a coward as you then reported him to be? Dulxc. Aou must, sir, change persons with me, ere you make that my report; you, indeed, spoke so of him; and much more, much worse. Lucio. O thou damnable fellow ! Did not I pluck thee by the nose for thy speeches ? Duke. I protest, I love the duke, as I love myself. Aif(/. Hark! how the villain would close now,^' after his treasonable abuses. Escal. Such a fellow is not to be talkVl withal : — Away with him to prison : — Where is the provost ? — Away with him to prison; lay bolts enough upon him: let him speak no more: — Away with those o-ij^lots^^ too, and with the other confederate companion. [The PRoyosT lays hands on the Duke. Duke. Stay, sir; stay awhile. Ang. What! resists he? Help him, Lucio. Lucio. Come, sir; come, sir; come, sir; foh, sir: Why, you baldj)ated, lying rascal ! you must be hooded, must you? Show your knave s visage, with a pox to you ! show your slieepbiting face, and be hang'd an hour !^* Will 't not off? \PuUs off f he Friar's hood, and discovers the Duke. Duke. Thou art the first knave that e'er mad'st a didvc. — First, Provost, let me bail these gentle three: — Sneak not away, sir [to Lucio]; for the friar and you INIust have a word anon — lay hold on him. Lucio. This may prove worse than hanging. Duke. What you have spoke, I pardon; sit you down. — [To ESCALUS. W^e '11 borroAv place of him — Sir, by your leave : [To Angelo. Hast thou or word, or wit, or impudence. ACT v.] MEASURE EOR MEASURE. 209 That yet can do thee office?*^ If thou hast, Rely upon it till my tale be heard, And hold no longer out. Ang. O my dread lord, I should be guiltier than my guiltiness, ^Vo think I can be undiscernable, When I perceive your grace, like power divine, Ilath look'd upon my passes.*'' Then, good prince. No longer session hold upon my shame, But let my trial be mine own confession Immediate sentence then, and sequent death. Is all the grace I beg. Duke. Come hither, Mariana: Say, wast thou e'er contracted to this woman ? Ang. I was, my lord. Duke. Go take her hence, and marry her instantly.— Do you the office, friar; which, consummate. Return him here again : — Go with him, Provost. [Ejcemit Angelo, Mariana, Peter, and Provost. Escal. My lord, I am more amaz'd at his dishonour, Than at the strangeness of it. Duke. Come hither, Isabel: Your friar is now your prince : As I was then Advertising and holy*^ to your business, Not changing heart with habit, I am still Attorney' d at your service.*^ Isah. O give me pardon. That I, your vassal, have employ 'd and pain'd Your unknown sovereignty. Duke. You are pardon'd, Isabel : And now, dear maid, be you as free to us.^° Your brother's death, I know, sits at your heart; And you may marvel why I obscur'd myself,^^ Lal)ouring to save his life ; and would not rather ^lake rash remonstrance of my hidden power,^^ Than let him so be lost: O most kind maid. It was the swift celerity of his death. Which I did think with slower foot came on, That brain'd my purpose -J'^ But peace be with him ! That life is better life, past fearing death. Than that which hves to fear: make it your comfort, So happy is your brother. III. 27 210 MEASUEE FOE MEASUEE. [act. v. Re-entei' Angelo, Mariana, Peter, and Provost. hah. I do, my lord. Duke. For this new-married man, approaching here. Whose salt imagination yet hath wrong' d Your well-defended honour, you must pardon For Mariana's sake : hut as he adjudg'd your hrother, (Being criminal, in douhle violation^* Of sacred chastity, and of promise-breach. Thereon dependant, for your brother's life,) Tlie very mercy of the law cries out Most audible, even from his proper tongue,^' — An Angelo for Claudio, death for death! Haste still pays haste, and leisure answers leisure; Like doth quit like, and Measure still for Measure. Tlien, Angelo, thy fault 's tlius manifested : Which, though thou wouldst deny, denies thee vantage We do condemn tliee to the very block Where Claudio stoop'd to death, and with like haste; Aw av with him ! Mari. O, my most gracious lord, I hope you will not mock me with a husband Duke. It is your husband mock'd you with a husband : Consenting to the safeguard of your honour, T thought your marriage fit; else imputation, For that he knew you, might reproach yovir life. And choke your good to come: for his possessions, Althouo-h bv confiscation they are ours. We do instate and widow you withal,"^ To buy you a better husband. Mari. O, my dear lord, I crave no other, nor no better man. Duke. Never crave him ; we are definitive. 3Iari. Gentle my liege, — [Kneelmg. Duke. You do but lose your labour; xVway with him to death. — Now, sir, [to Lucio] to you. Mari. O, my good lord I — Sweet Isabel, take my part; Lend me your knees, and all my life to come I '11 lend you all my life to do you service. Duke. Against all sense you do importune her: Should she kneel down, in mercy of this fact, ACT v.] MEASUEE EOH MEASURE. 211 Her brother's ghost his paved bed would break, And take her hence in horror. Marl. Isabel, Sweet Isabel! do yet but kneel by me; Hold up your hands, say nothing, I '11 speak all. They say, best men are moulded out of faults ; And, for the most, become much more the better For being a little bad : so may my husband. O, Isabel! will you not lend a knee? Duke. He dies for Claudio's death. Isah. Most bounteous sir, [Kneeling, Look, if it please you, on this man condenm'd, As if my brother liv'd: I partly think,^° A due sincerity governed his deeds, Till he did look on me ; since it is so, Let him not die. My brother had but justice. In that he did the thing for which he died : For Angelo, His act did not o'ertake his bad intent," And must be buried but as an intent That perish'd by the way -^^ thoughts are no subjects,'^^ — Intents but merely thoughts.^* Marl. Merely, my lord. Duke. Your suit 's unprofitable; stand up, I say. — I have bethought me of another fault : — Provost, how came it, Claudio was beheaded At an unusual hour? Prov. It was commanded so. Duke. Had you a special warrant for the deed? Frov. No, my good lord; it was by private message. Duke. For which I do discharge you of your ofRce : Give up your keys. Prov. Pardon me, noble lord : I thought it was a fault, but knew it not; Yet did repent me, after more advice i'^' For testimony whereof, one in the prison. That should by private order else have died, I have reserv'd alive. Duke. What 's he ? Prov. His name is Barnardine. Duke. I would thou hadst done so by Claudio. — Go, fetch him hither; let me look upon him. \_Ej'it Provost. 212 MEASURE FOE MEASURE. [act v. Esatl. I am sorry, one so learned and so wise As YOU, lord Angclo, have still appear'd, Should slip so grossly, hoth in the heat of hlood, And lack of temper 'd judgment afterward. Amj. I am sorry that such sorrow I procure : And so deep sticks it in my penitent heart, That I crave death more willingly than mercy ; 'T is my deserving, and I do entreat it. Re-enter Provost, Barnardine, Claudio, Juliet. Duhe. Which is that Barnardine? Vrov. This, my lord. Duke. There was a friar told me of this man: — Sirrah, thou art said to have a stuhhorn soul. That apprehends no further than this world. And squar'st thy life according. Thou 'rt condenjn'd. But, for those earthly faults, I quit them all; And pray thee, take this mercy to provide For hetter times to come : — Friar, advise him ; I leave him to your hand. — What muffled fellow's that? Prov. This is another prisoner that I sav'd, That should have died when Claudio lost his head. As like almost to Claudio as himself. {Unmuffles Claudio. Buhe. If he be like your brother,''' [to Isabella] for his sake Is he pardon'd: and, for your lovely sake. Give me your hand, and say you will be mine : lie is my brother too : But fitter time for that. By this, lord Angelo perceives he 's safe; ^lethinks, I see a quick'ning in his eye : — Well, Angelo, your evil quits you well:*'* Look that you love your wife her worth, worth yours. ' — I find an apt remission in myself, And yet here 's one in place I cannot pardon:'' — You, sirrah [to Lucio], that knew me for a fool, a coward, One all of luxury,'' an ass, a madman ; Wherein have I so deserv'd of you, 111 at A'ou extol me thus ? Lucio. "Faith, my lord, I spoke it but according to the trick:'' If you will hang me for it, you may, but I had rather it would please you, I might be whipp'd! Duhe. Whipp'd first, sir, and hang'd after. — Proclaim it, Provost, round about the city, — 84. cf^feafurefor oIA^eafure. Dftke. Vpon mine honor thou fhaltmarrieber. Thy flandersi forgiue.and therewithal! Remit thy other forfeits : take him to priion. And fee our pleafurc herein executed, Luc. Marrying a punkc my Lord, is preflTing to death, Whipping and hanging. Df*ke. Slandering a Prince At^exna it. She Clandio that you wrong'd,lookc you reftorci. Icy to you Mariofja, loue her ^ngelo : I haue co\\{t%'& her, and 1 know her vertue. Thanks good friend, Sfcalits, for thy much goodneflc. Thcre'smore bchiiidcthatis moregratulatc. Thanks ^ronoji for thy carc,and fccrccic. We ihall imploy thecin a worthier place. Forgiue him ^KgeIo,thzt brought you home The head of Ragoz^ine for (^Uttdip'Sy Th'offence pardons it felfc. Dtcrc Ifahell, I haue a motion much imports your good. Whereto if you'll a w illing eare incline ; What's mine is yours,and what is yours is mine So bring vs to our Pallace,where wcc'll fliow What's yet behinde,thatmc«eyou^lIfhould know. The Scene Vienna. The names of all the Adors. Yincentto : the Duke, Jngelffj the Defutie. E fcaluj, ATI ancient Lord. CUudio, ayor?^ Gentleman, Lucio^ afanta(li£jue. z. Other like GtntUmen. Prouoji, Thdmai. 7 Peter. 5 ^-^rtirs. Elbow., a JimpleCoftfl^hle, Froth,afoflifi CentUman. Clowne, Abhor jbn^ an Executioner. Burnardine^a diffolutefrijgncr. ffibella^ fifier to Claudio. Miriana., betrothed te Angela. Juliet Jyeloued of Claudio. FraficifcajAT^a. Miflrii Ouer-don^ a Edwd. FINIS, 2^ /MX p 2/J ACT v.] MEASURE EOR MEASURE. .21:3 If any woman's wrong'd by this lewd fellow, (As I have heard him swear himself, there 's one Whom he begot with child), let her appear. And he shall marry her: the nuptial finished. Let him be whipp'd and hang'd. Lucio. I beseech your highness, do not marry me to a whore ! Your highness said even now, I made you a duke ; good my lord, do not recompense me in making me a cuckold. Duke. Upon mine honour, thou shalt marry her. Thy slanders I forgive ; and therewithal Remit thy other forfeits — Take him to prison : And see our pleasure herein executed. Lucio. Marrying a punk, my lord, is pressing to death,^' whip- ping, and hanging. Duke. Slandering a prince deserves it. — She, Claudio, that you wrong'd, look you restore. Joy to you, Mariana! — love her, Angelo; '' I have confess'd her, and 1 know her virtue. Thanks, good friend Escalus, for thy much goodness: There 's more behind that is more gratulate." Thanks, Provost, for thy care and secrecy; We shall employ thee in a worthier place : — Forgive him, Angelo, that brought you home The head of Ragozine'for Claudio's; Th' offence pardons itself. — Dear Isabel, I have a motion much imports your good ; Whereto if you '11 a willing ear incline, What 's mine is yours, and what is yours is mine: So, bring us to our palace, where we '11 show What 's yet behind, that 's meet you all should know. [^Exeunt. "^gUs k tilt Jfiftlj %tt ^ JEnter at opposite sides. The original reads, " at several doors," alluding- to the doors on each side of our old primitive theatres, through which the actors passed, ^ 0, your desert speaks loud. " Promos, the good report of your good government I heare," Historic of Promos and Cassandra, Seconde Part, act i. sc. 9. ^ Vail your regard. To vail, to lower. " That is," says Dr. Johnson," withdraw your thoughts from higher things ; let your notice descend upon a wronged woman." Minsheu has, " to vaile, id est, to put, cast, let fall, or fell downe." The term also occurs in Promos and Cassandra, — " vail thou thine ears." * Truth is truth to the end of reckoning. That is, truth has no gradations ; nothing which admits of increase can be so much what it is, as truth is truth. There may be a strange thing, and a thing more strange, but if a proposition be true, there can be none more true. — Johnson. ^ May seem as shy, as grave, as just, as absolute. As shy ; as reserved, as abstracted : as just ; as nice, as exact : as absolute as complete in all the round of duty. — Johnson. ^ In all his dressings, characts, titles, forms. " In all his semblance of virtue, in all his habili- ^ ^ y-4 ments of ofiice," Dr. Johnson. Characts (caracts, ed. 1623), characters, signs. In the Dialogue of Dives }^ and Pauper, printed by R. Pynson, 1493, ap. Brand, " among superstitious practices then in use, the following — ^ are censured: "Or use any charmes in gadering of ^ ^(T^ herbes, or hangynge of scrowes aboute man or woman o-^ ^^~0 or childe or beest for any seknesse, with any scripture, ^ " ^ or figures, and carectes, but if it be pater noster, ave, or Hh the crede, or holy wordes of the gospel, or of holy wryt, for devocion nat for curioustie, and only with the tokene of the holy crosse." The term was especially appUed to any cabalistic or magical signs, as for instance to the unintelligible characters here engraved from a magical manuscript of the sixteenth century in the possession of Lord Londesborough. The following instances of tlie term are extracted from the notes of Tyrwhitt, 210 NOTES TO THE FIETH ACT. Sleevens, and Blackstonc. " AVith his carrecte would him enchaunt . . . And read his carecte in the wise . . . Tlirough his carectes and figures . . . And his carecte, as he was taught, he rad," Gower, De Confessione Amantis. " That he use ne hide no charme ne carecte," Dugdale's Orig. Jurid. p. 81. The Stat. 1 Edw, YI. c. 2, directed the seals of office of every bishop to have " certain characts under the king's arms, for the knowledge of the diocese." In the last instance, Blackstone says that characts mean inscriptions. As eer 1 heard in madness. GMon, in his alteration of this play, 4to. 1700, p. 40, reads, — " as nc're was heard in madness." Sepiiour suggests to read that in the place of as. It is evident, from Isabella's answer, that the Duke means to insinuate he thinks her quite out of her senses. ^ Bo not banish reason from inequality. The meaning seems to be this, — Do not conclude there is no reason or truth in my words, because they ha])pen to be apparently inconsistent or improbable. Tliat Isabella is speaking of herself pointedly in regard to the truth of her own language, clearly appears from the context, — harp not on that, — but let your reason serve. Dr. Johnson explains it diff'erently, — " let not the high quality of my adversary prejudice you against me ;" but Isabella is merely repeating her previous words, — " that thou neglect me not, with that opinion that I am touch'd witli madness ; make not impossible that which but seems unlike." ^ And hide the false, seems true. That is, by a common ellipsis, — and hide the false, which seems true. Isabella, observes Douce, requests of the Duke to exert his reason to discover truth where it seems hid, and to suppress falsehood where it has the semblance of truth. Theobald reads, — Not iiide the false seems true ; and Phelps, — And hid, the false seems true. Malone thus explains the old text, — And for ever hide, that is, plunge into eternal darkness, the false one, Angelo, who now seems lionest. Theobald's suggestion is best supported by Isabella's subsequent prayer, — " Oh, you blessed ministers above, unfold the evil which is here wrapt up in countenance !" The phrase is to the matter. — Mended again. Suited to the matter ; as in Hamlet, — " the phrase would be more german to the matter." I think, observes Malone, we ought to read : — Mend it again — the matter : — proceed : — Correct that phrase when you have occasion to speak again of the deputy — you left oft' at matter — proceed. The corruption might easily have arisen in transcribing, from the similarity of sounds. — Malone. " IIov: he refelVd me, and hoio I reply d. Refell'd, that is, denied, put away, repelled, refuted. " I refell, I put awaye, je refelle ; lean nat refell your argument, it is so e'^ydent," Palsgrave, 1530. ''Ihfello, to refell, to confute that is objected, to shewe by reason and argument that it is false that one saith," Cooperi Thesaurus, ed. 1584. " Therefore, go on, proceed, refell the allegation," Second Part of Robert Earl of Huntington, IGOl. It appears in the text, as in the two following passages, to be simply used in the sense, to deny. " I \A-ill not refell that here, which shall be confuted hereafter," Lilly's Euphues and his England. " Impossible it is that any one should me excell in love, whose love I will refell," England's Helicon, 1614. " Reason's best reasons are by Eaith refell'd," Sylvester's Du Bartas. " As thou then didst refell my valour," Cliapman's version of the Iliad, p. 117, where it means simply, repell. NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. 217 " Strong proofs brought out, wliicli strongly were refell'd," Daniel's Civil Wars. " Eriends, not to refell ye, or any way quell ye," Wits Recreations, 1G40, taken from Ben Jonson. It will be seen, from some of the above extracts, that the emendation rejielVd is unnecessary. ^" To his concupiscihle intemperate hist. Concupiscible, the reading of the first folio, is sometimes unnecessarily altered to concupiscent. " Concupiscible facultie, the unreasonable or sensuall part of the soule, which covets meats, drinkes, and all sorts of delights beyond measure," Minsheu. " Concupiscihile, lecherous, lustfall," Elorio's Worlde of AVordes, fol. Lond. 1598. His purpose surfeiting. The end of all adultery, a surfeit after the object is attained, and the zest of pursuit lost. The next morning, his purpose being satiated, he no longer had occasion for a bribe to me, and so destroys my brother. " Having wonne what they did wish, for othes nor lady care," Promos and Cassandra, 1578. Or the meaning may simply be, — his purpose of releasing my brother now cooling. Shakespeare both here, and in Othello, seems to use the verb surfeit in somewhat a peculiar sense. The fourth folio reads forfeiting. 0, that it were as like, as it is true ! Like, that is, probable. Isabella, observes Heath, Avanted only to persuade the Duke of the truth of her accusation : she therefore wishes that the probability of it were equal to its real truth, having then no doubt of her obtaining all the credit she could desire. Or a more literal explanation will suffice, Isabella, in her indignation at not being credited, purposely making an antithesis between the probability and the truth of the story. Mr. R. G. White suggests that like may be interpreted credible. It is to be remembered that Isabella is fearing the incredibility of Angelo's conduct. So, previously, — " make not impossible that which but seems unlike." ■^^ By heaven, fond wretch. Fond is here, and in many other places, foolish. " Slolidus, foolishe, fonde," Cooperi Thesaurus, ed. 1584. Nigauderies, fond, idle, trifling prankes," Cotgrave. ^'^ Which is here wrapt up in countenance. In the hypocritical demeanour of Angelo. " With grave and sadde counte- nance to deceive," Baret's Alvearie, 1580. This needs must he a practice. Practice, that is, a stratagem, artifice, deception. The use of the word in this sense is very common, and again occurs in the present scene, in King Lear, King- John, &c. " Is it possible by herbs, stones, spells, incantation, enchantment, exorcism, fire, metal, planets, or any practice, to plant affection where it is not," Lilly's Endymion, 1591. Talbot, an English Captaine, having besieged the citie of Orleance in the time of King Charles the Seventh, the citizens fell to practise with the Duke of Burgundie, to yeeld themselves under his obeissance. — Memorahle Conceits of divers nolle and famous Personages of Christendome, 1G02. The Lord Talbot, suspecting the practise then in hand, would not consent to the Duke's motion. — Ibid. Not scurvy, nor a temporary meddler. Temporarv seems here licentiously used for tempcrally, secular. Dr. Johnson III. ' 28 218 NOTES TO THE FIFTH ACT. proposed to read, — " nor a tamperer and meddler," not one who would have tampered with this woman to make her a false evidence against your deputy. And, on my trust. This phrase exactly answers to the French, a ma fiance, on my word. Truth and troth have been suggested, I think unnecessarily. ~° Whensoever he's contented. Convented, that is, convened, called. Some editors unnecessarily read con- vened. " The lords shall be convented," Marlowe's Lust's Dominion. " Should tell the company convented there," Woman 's a Weatliercock, 1612. " And therefore in haste thy mates convent," Virgil, translated by Vicars, 1632. " Mucli like a clowd of vulturs that are convented after some great fight," Nabbes' Hannibal and Scipio, 1637. And yet note, that wheresoever any conviction shall be before the Justice of Peace, by or upon the oath of any other person (than the delinquent himselfe) thence the Justice of Peace must first send for, or convent tlie delinquent before him, to make answer, &c., and to heare and examine him of the offence, &c., for it may be that he can make sufficient defence or excuse of the fact. — Daltons Countrey Justice, 1620. Now the Duke of Ferrara being generall for the Emperour, Emilia pre- sents her requests for justice against Garcias, who was convented at Ferrara. — Coolies Vindication of the Professors of the Law, 1616. ~^ So vulgarly and personally accused. Vulgarly, that is, publicly, openly, among the vulgus. " Volgare, vulgar, common, publike," Florio's Worlde of AVordes, 1598. " And which pleases vulgarly," Daniel. " A vulgar comment will be made of it, and that supposed by the common rout," Comedy of Errors. In this I'll he impartial. It clearly appears from the following passages, cited by Farmer and Malone, that impartial was sometimes used in the sense of partial. In the old play of Swetnam the AVoman Hater, 1620, Atlanta cries out, when the judges decree against the women : " You are impartial, and we do appeal from you to judges more indifferent." So, in Marston's Antonio and Mellida, 2d part, 1602 : — " There's not a beauty lives, hath that impartial predominance o'er my aflPects, as your enchanting graces." Again, in llomeo and Juliet, 1597 : — " Cruel, unjust, impartial ()iQs\AmQ^\" Again: " — this day, this unjust, impartial d.aj.'' In the language of our author's time, observes Malone, im was frequently used as an augmentative or intensive particle. "Notwithstanding the passages produced by Dr. Farmer, to shew that impartial Avas sometimes used to express partial, I cannot think that it is the case in the present instance. I'll be impartial, means, I believe, — I'll be in- different, I'll take no part in the cause, but leave it entirely to you of whose wisdom and integrity I am fully persuaded. As impartial is here used for indifferent, so is indifferent, in another place, put for impartial, — in Eichard II., Look on my wrongs with an indifferent eye," Seymour. In support of tliis criticism, it is to be observed that Shakespeare elsewhere uses impartial in its ordinary acceptation. Neither maid, icidow, nor wife. One of the proverbial designations of a woman of bad character, as given in Kay's Collection of English Proverbs, ed. 1678, p. 90. NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. 219 A waiting- worn an, being summoned into a court to take lier oath, the examiner asked her how he should write her down, — maide, a wife, or a widow ? She bid him write her down a maid, for she never had husband. He, finding her a pretty smug wench, askt her how old she was ; she told him about six and twenty. Six and twenty, saith he, willing to sport with her, then take heed what you swear, for you are now upon your oath : may I securely set you down maide, being of these yeares ? The wench made a pause, and con- sidering a while with her selfe, — I pray you, sir, saith she, stay your hand a little, and M'rite me down ' young woman.' — A Banquet of Jests new ojid old^ 1G57. This is a strange abuse. Abuse, that is, deception. The term occurs in this sense in Macbeth. They were instantly bound fast together with a strong cord, and he stretching out his neck like the cock of a conduit, whose head is not fixt to the body, but may be set higher or lower at pleasure, stood looking about to see if he could discover who had put that abuse upon him. — The Comical History of Francion, 1655. And did supply thee at thy garden-house. The story of the garden-house in this play may be well illustrated by the following passage in Stubbes' Anatomic of Abuses, 1595, where he says, speaking of the looseness of English women in general, — " In the fields and suburbes of the cities they have gardens either paled or walled round about very high, with their barbers and bowers fit for the purpose ; and least they might be espied in these open places, they have their banquetting houses with galleries, turrets, and what not, therein sumptuously erected, wherein they may, and doubtless do, many of them play the filthy persons. And for that their gardens are locked, some of them have three or four keyes a piece, whereof one they keep for themselves, the other their paramours have to goe in before them, least happily they might be perceived, for then were all the sport dasht. Then to these gardens they repair, when they list, with a basket and a boy, where they, meeting their sweet harts, receive their wished desires." Garden or summer-houses are constantly noted as places of intrigue. " Who sneaketh in to some old garden noted house for sin," Skialetheia or a Shadowe of Truth in certaine Epigrams and Satyres, 1598. "A garden-house, having round about it many flowers and much deflowring," Greene in Conceipt, 1598. "If you have any friend, or garden-house, where you may employ a poor gentleman as your friend, I am yours to command in all secret service," London Prodigal, 1605. "What makes he heere in the skirts of Ilolborne, so neere the field, and at a garden-house ; 'a has some punke, upon my life," Earn Alley, 1611. Garden-houses sometimes appear to have been substantially furnished. At least, the following entry in the MS. inventory of the goods of the Countess of Leicester, 1631-5, seems to show that such was the case : — " In the Garden-house, Imprimis, two bedsteads, one featherbed, one boulster, three blankets, and a fishinge nett, xl.s." The above engraving of a garden-house, in the garden of a brothel on the Bank-side near tlie Globe play-house, is copied from the frontispiece to Holland's Leaguer, 1632. Young Mistresse Joyce her husband doth solicit To hire a garden-house neere to the fields. Which with her gossip she might weekely visit, Eor something must she have that comfort yeelds : 220 NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. I feare this bower of -sveekely recreation AVill ])rove a place of dayly occupation L'rbanus that committed an offence A\'ith a young country lasse, poore silly foole ; To salve his credit soone conveyes her hence Unto a garden-house or vaulting-schoole. "Where now unloaden of that lucklesse ill, And all dispatched save the houshold charge, The goodman bawd or pander, which you will. Brings him no ticket, but a bill at large. The Motis-trap, 4to. Lond. IGOG. Tell me, then, I beseech you, do not you think this minx is some naughty pack whom my husband hath fallen in love with, and means to keep under my nose at his garden-house. — Northicard Hoe, ICO 7. AVife, you can have my service no longer. Sirra President, attend you upon your mistresse home : and, wife, I would have you to hold your journey directly homeward, and not to imitate princes in their progresse, steppe not out of your way to visit a new gossip, to see a neiv garden-house, to smell the perfumes of court jerkins, or to handle other tooles then may fitte for your modestie : I would not have you to steppe into the suburbs, and acquaint your selfe either with monsters or motions, but holding your way directly home- ward, shew your selfe still to bee a rare huswife. — The Durnbe Knight, 1633. Garden-houses are mentioned (inter alia) in the Citye Match, fol. 1639, p. 2; the Noble Servant, 1657, p. 27; Durfey's Virtuous Wife, or Good Luck at Last, 1680, p. 36 ; City Politiques, 1683, p. 52 ; Durfey's Richmond Heiress, 1693, p. 41; and in Lilly's life of Dr. Eorman. The term continued in use till the eighteenth century, and a rare tract, entitled, " The Northern Cuckold, or the Garden-house Intrigue," 8vo. Lond. 1721, details the history of an intrigue carried on in a garden-house. I have now before me an original bill, dated June 7tli, 1729, for " plastering done for Sir Michaell Newton att his garden-house in Burlington Gardens per Isaac Mansfield." This garden-house appears to have been a small substantial building of brick, finished in a rustic style. Her promised 'proportions came short of composition. Her fortune, which was promised proportiotiate to mine, fell sliort of the com- position, that is, contract or bargain. — Johnson. ~~ These poor informal women. Informal, that is, mad, out of their senses ; or, possibly, ill-conditioned, an oblique sense from the Latin. A "formal man," in other words, a man in his right senses, is mentioned in the Comedy of Errors, and again in Antony and (,'lcopatra. Hanmer proposed to read informing, an alteration also found in two annotated copies of late folios, and in Gildon's alteration, 1700, p. 42. To your height of pleasure. So the old edition of 1623. To is here equivalent to unto. Though theij loould swear doicn each particular saint. Steevens refers to the following passage in Antony and Cleopatra, — " Though you, in swearing, shake the throned gods." Thafs seaVd in approbation. When any tiling subject to counterfeits is tried by the proper ofiicers and apj)roved, a stamp or seal is put upon it, as among us on plate, weights, and NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. 221 measures. So the Duke says, that Angelo's faith has been tried, approved, and seaVd in testimony of that approbation, and, Uke other things so sealed, is no more to be called in question. — Johnson. Whom it concerns to hear this matter forth. That is, to hear it to the end, to search it to the bottom. — Johnson. My lord, we'll do it throughly. Throughly, for thoro2ighly, and in many other instances, is the language of the original. Avanger, to furnish throughly, to beare the whole charge of," Cotgrave. Cucullus non facit monachum, the cowl does not make the monk ; a common old Latin proverb, which occurs again in Twelfth Night. Women are light at midnight. This is a favourite quibble. " Though she were in the darke, she would appeare a light woman," Man in the Moone, 1609. Compare tlie following verses in Henry Parrot's Laquei Eidiculosi, or Springes for Woodcocks, 8vo. Lond.1613,— Lais of lighter metal is compos'd, Than hath her lightness till of late disclos'd ; Eor lighting where she hght acceptance feels, Her fingers there prove lighter than her heels. There is a similar play upon words in an epigram in the Mastive, or Young Whelpe of the Olde Dogge, 4to. Lond. no date, — What if Pondexus wife be light ? How then ? Must she be taunted at by every jade ? This is the fault of foolish vaine women, That will be diving in their neighbours trade. Pondexus is a feather-maker, and, by right, His wife, like to her wares, may proove as light. And in the couplet at p. 151 of the Scourge of Polly, Svo. Lond. IGll, — Light come, light goe. Not so, for Phryna came To Marcus light, but goes opprest with shame. Respect to your great place I and let the devil. This is spoken in great indignation. Respect to your high dignity or position indeed ! — you might as well respect the devil for his burning throne ! Malone thinks a line has been omitted, but there does not appear any real necessity for such an opinion ; nor can I think, with Steevens, there is any allusion to the ancient adoration of the devil — " Augylte inferos tantum colunt," Plinii Hist. Nat. V. 8, ed. 1582, p. 59. To retort your manifest appeal. That is, says Dr. Johnson, to refer back to Angelo the cause in which you appealed from Angelo to the Duke. To the racic with him. The annexed engraving of this instrument of torture, representing Cuthbert Simson on the rack, is taken by Mr. Eairholt from Poxe's Ecclesiastical History, 1576. In the Travayles of WiUiam Lithgow, p. 471, there is a representation of another description of rack, of triangular form, in which tlie legs and arms are gradually compressed (not extended) by cords wound round the sides of the machine. Lithgow gives the following account of the mode in which he was 222 NOTES TO THE EIPTH ACT. tortured : — " Kow the Alcalde giving commission, the executioner layd first a cord over the calfe of iny leg, then another on the middle of mj thigh, and the third cord over the great of my arme ; which was severally done on both sides of my body receiving the ends of the cords, from these sixe severall places through the liolcs made in the outward planks, which were fastned to pinnes, and the pinnes made fast with a device : for he was to charge on the outside of the planks, with as many pinnes as there were holes and cords ; the cords being first laid meet to my skin : and on every one of these sixe parts of my body I was to receive seven severall tortures : each torture consisting of three winding throwes of every pinne ; which amounted to twenty one throwes in every one of these five parts." But we u'ill Jcnoic his jm?yose. So the old copy, altered by Hanmer to, this purpose. ]Malone, instead of Hanmer's alteration, proposes to read, in the previous line, — "we'll touze him joint by joint." Escalus, observes Boswell, says to the supposed Eriar, " we'll touze you joint by joint," and addresses the close of the sentence not to him, but to the by-standers. Nor here provincial. Perhaps this means, not belonging to this province. The following is Monck Mason's explanation : — " The difierent orders of monks have a chief, Avho is called the General of the order ; and they have also superiors, subordinate to the general, in the several provinces through which the order may be dispersed. The Eriar therefore means to say, that the Duke dares not touch a finger of his, for he could not punish him by his own authority, as he was not his subject, nor through that of the superior, as he was not of that province." Boil and hilhle, till it der-nm the stew. " I fear that, in the present instance, our author's metaphor is from the kitchen : so, in Macbeth, — Eike a hell-broth, boil and bubble," Steevens. ^° Stand like the forfeits in a harhers shop. The barber was a far more important person in former days than he is now. Not only were trimming the hair, arranging the love-locks, and keeping the fantastic beard in order, important cccu] atitns, but he often joined the practice of bleeding and chirurgery to his other profession. It may be readily supposed, NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. 223 many of his customers had to exert their patience in waiting for their turns, and that forfeits were originally necessary for keeping them in order, though they afterwards became disregarded. About the year 1750, Dr. Kenrick saw a metrical list of barber's forfeits in a shop in Yorkshire, and the following is a copy of what the author quoted from memory some years afterwards. They were entitled " Rules for seemly Behaviour," — Eirst come, first serve : then come not late ; And, when arrived, keep your state : Eor he, who from these rules shall swerve. Must pay the forfeits. So, observe : — 1. Who enters here with boots and spurs. Must keep his nook ; for if he stirs, And gives with armed heel a kick, A pint he pays for every prick. 2. Who rudely takes another's turn, A forfeit mug may manners learn. 3. Who reverentless shall swear or curse. Must lug seven farthings from his purse. 4. Who checks the barber in his tale. Must pay for each a pot of ale. 5. Who will or can not miss his hat, While trimming, pays a pint for that. 6. And he who can or will not pay. Shall hence be sent half-trimm'd away; Eor, will he, nill he, if in fault, He forfeit must in meal or malt. But, mark, — who is alreads in drink, The cannikin must never clink. Tliese metrical forfeits were first printed in Kenrick's Beview of Doctor Johnson's new Edition of Shakespeare, 8vo. Lond. 1765, pp. 42, 43, accompanied with the following notes : — " Keep your date, behave yourself agreeably to your station. — Learn for teach, a common perversion of language ; the meaning is that, by being made to forfeit, he may thence learn better manners than to want another time to be shaved out of his turn. — Seven farthings, probably the price of a pint of beer. — It is not clear, whether for each means what the artizans call pin ts-a-piece, that is, a pint for every person in the shop. If so, the interrupting the barber in his tale was held to be a grievous ofi'ence indeed. — But perhaps for each means only, for each offence ; in which case, however, it is not accurately expressed. — To miss, in that part of Yorkshire, means to spare or to he without : — Thus a man forfeited a pint, for insisting upon being shaved with his hat on." Dr. Kenrick previously observes, — " The truth is, that the tables of forfeits, hung up in barber's shops, are still extant in some parts of England ; at least I remember to have seen one about twelve or thirteen years ago, in an excursion from Burlington to North Allerton in Yorkshire. I think it was either at Malton or at Thirsk, and very probably it is there still. I do not, indeed, recollect the name of the operator, in whose shop it was afiixed ; but its contents struck me so much on reading, that I believe I can recite them from memory pretty exactly. They do not relate, however, to the handling of chirurgical instruments, but to civility and good behaviour; and seem not injudiciously calculated for a place, where persons of different stations and degrees were accustomed to meet, in order to be successively shaved." I have been thus particular in exhibiting the whole of Kenrick's account of NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. these forfeits to the reader, Steevens having: pronounced the rules to have been a modern forgerv. It is possible, even on Kenrick's own showing-, that the above lines are not perfectly accurate copies, and that his imagination might have assisted in some slight degree any deficiency of memory; but it is, I think, ca])able of proof that they are in the main authentic. The very commencement is well sui)})orted by the following lines in a MS. poem. The Newe Metamorphosis, written about the year IGOO, — First come, first serv'd, at market and at mill, ' At barbers' sliops, but Love no such lawes will. and to place the matter beyond a doubt, the late Major Moor, in his Suffolk AVords and Phrases, 1823, p. 133, says tliat " upwards of forty years ago, 1 saw a string of such rules at the tensor's of Alderton near the sea;" adding, " 1 well recollect the following lines to have been among them," — Eirst come, first serve — then come not late ; And when arrived, keep your state — Whoever comes in boots and spurs, Must keep his seat — for if he stirs, And gives with armed heel a kick, A pint he pays for every prick. Who checks the barber in his tale IMust pay for each a pot of ale. Dr. Warburton observes : " Barbers' shops were, at all times, the resort of idle people : formerly with us the better sort of people went to the barber's shop to be trimmed ; who then practised the under parts of surgery : so that he had occasion for numerous instruments Avhich lay there ready for use ; and the idle ])eople with whom his shop was generally crowded, would be perpetually handling and misusing them. To remedy which, 1 suppose, there was placed up against the wall a table of forfeitures, adapted to every ofPence of this kind ; which it is not likely would long preserve its autl.ority." Steevens says : " 1 have conversed with several people who had repeatedly read the list of forfeits alluded to by Shakes])eare, l)ut have failed in my endeavours to procure a copy of it. The metrical one published by the late Dr. Ivenrick was a forgery." Dr. Henley observes : "1 believe Dr. Warburton's explanation in the main to be right, only that instead of chirurgical instruments, the barber's prohibited implements were principally his razors ; his whole stock of which, from the number and impatience of his customers on a Saturday night or a market morning, being necessai'ily laid out for use, were exposed to the idle fingers of the bystanders in waiting for succession to the chair. These forfeits were as much in mock as mark, both because the barber had no authority of himself to enforce them, and also as they were of a ludicrous nature. I ])erfectly remember to have seen them in Devonshire (printed like King Charles's rules), though I cannot recollect the contents." The late Mr. Croft, of York, in a very scarce pamjihlet privately printed, 'Annotations on Plays of Shakespear,' 8vo. 1810, gives the following curious information on this subject : — " The custom still prevails, and the table-board of the articles hangs behind the door, and are, viz. — to talk of cutting throats ; to weave a piece oi hair ; to call powder flour ; or to meddle with anything on the shop-board ; are held as forfeits." Eorby, in his Vocabulary of East Anglia, 1830, i. 119, asserts that barber's forfeits " exist to this day in some, perhaps in many village shops. They are penalties for handling the razors, &c. ; offences very likely to be committed by lounging clowns, waiting for their turn to be scraped on a Saturday night, or Sunday morning. They are stdl, as of old, more in mock NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. than mark. Certainly more miscliief might be done 200 years ago, when the barber was also a surgeon. "We have also forfeits in every inn yard, payable in beer, by those who dabble in the water cistern, carry candles into the stables, &c. It is a custom in the shops of all mechanicks to make it a forfeiture for any stranger to use or take up the tools of their trade : In a barber's shop especially, when heretofore barbers prac- tis'dthe under parts of surgery, their in- struments being of a nice kind, and their shops generally full of idle people, there was hung up a table shewing what particular forfeiture was required for meddling with each instrument. — Shakespeare, ed. TIanmer, 1744, i. 372. It was no doubt a common jDractice to institute forfeits for all infringements of rules not sufficiently important to obtain legal sanction. There is a very curious set of metrical forfeits for bell- ringers, dated 1687, preserved in the belfry of St. John's at Chester, where they are painted in distemper, in the old English character, within an orna- mental border ; and they deserve inser- tion in this place as being of a character very similar to Kenrick's rules, and as adding in some measure to the probability that the latter are genuine : You ringers all observe these orders well. He forfits twelve pence that turnes ore a bell ; And he that ringes with either spurr or hatt. His six pence certainely shall pay for that ; And he that spoile or doth disturbe a peale, Shall pay his fourpence or a cann of ale, And he that is hard to curse or sweare. Shall pay his twelve pence and forbeare ; These custom es elsewhere now are used, Lest bells and ringers be abused ; You gallants then that on purpose come to ring, See that you coyne along with you doath bring ; And further also if that you ring here. You must ring truly with hand and eare, Or else your forfits surely pay Eull speedily, and that without delay. Our lawes is ould, they are not new, The sexton e looketli for his due. The ordinary instruments of a barber, without any reference to his surgical ])ractice, would have supplied ample materials for the consideration of forfeits. They are thus curiously enumerated in Holme's Academy of Armory, 1688, in the account of the barber's instrument-case, "with the cover open, in the which is kept and preserved all the instruments for barbing, shaving, and polling or catting of hair ; now the things of use kept therein, are generally these : Razors 3 or 4 : scissers 2 or 3 pair : combs 3 or 4 : comb brush : ear-picker : twitcher : 22G NOTES TO THE FIFTH ACT. curlinG: irons : lookini? alass : sweet water in bottles : turnins: instruments and spunge : powder bottle, or puff bag : mullet, or gravers and scrapers, or tooth-picker : flegme : paring knives." It appears from the above that it was part of a barber's occupation to pick the teeth and ears. So, in Herod and Antipater, 1622, ap. Steevens, Trvphon the barber enters with a case of instruments, to eacli of which lie addresses himself separately : — "Toothpick, dear toothpick; earpick; both of you have been her sweet companions." The engraving on the last page of the interiorof a barber's shop is copied from one by Amman of the tonsor in Schopperi Panoplia, Svo. Franc. I5G8 : it exhibits numerous articles, the meddling of which may readily be supposed to have led to the infliction of forfeits. Item, I give and bequeath to the saide John, my sonne, syxe hanginge basons of latton, iij. wasshinge basons of latton, iij. harbors potts of latten, tenne shaving clothes, one hone, and my case with knyves holle. Item, I give and bequeath to the saide John, my sonne, my brasen morter and my leaden niorter with the pes- tells, the bedde holle complet that he lieth in, iij. harbors chaires, a dryeing bason as it standeth, my case with instrumentes perteyninge to surgery, with all my glasses and boxes belonginge to the same. — JFill of Andreic Craneicise, barber, 1558, printed in the Wills and Inventories edited by S. Tymms, 1850. A feshmonger, a fool, and a coward. Dr. Johnson observes that Lncio had not, in tlie former conversation, men- tioned cowardice among the faults of the duke ; but some such discourse may be supposed to have taken place, when he insists upon walking with him to the lane's end ; and to tliis probably the Duke refers, when, in answer to Lucio, he says, — ■ " you, indeed, spoke so of him ;" unless indeed the adverb then has a positive meaning, in which case the conversation must have occurred at the prison. Fleshmonger, literally, one who deals in flesh. " AA'olle men, vynteners, and flesshemongers," Cocke Lorelles Bote. The oblique meaning of the word in the text is obvious. Harli ! Jioic the villain would close now. The Dent annotated copy of the third folio reads gloze, and Mr. R. G. AVhite has also independently made the same suggestion. Tlie meaning of the original seems to be, — see how the villain would conclude his speeches, after his treason- able abuses. ^ Aicay with those giglots too. Giglots, wanton wenches. See the notes to Henry YL ^ Show pour sheep-biting face, and be hang'd an hour! The words, an hour, are merely vulgar expletives. " Like unto a man that had been strangled an hour, and could not speak," Ben Jonson's Alchemist. "Leave the bottle beliind you, and be curst a while," Bartholomew Fair, IGI4. " AVhat, Piper, ho ! be hang'd a while," madrigal quoted by Farmer. *^ That yet can do thee office. Office, that is, duty, service. " Office or commen dutye," Huloet's Abceda- rium, 1552. "Munits, a charge, dutie, or office," Cooper, ed. 1584 Hath looJc'd tipon my passes. Passes, that is, conditions ; or, possibly, though no instance of the word occurs in that sense, faults. " To what a pass are our minds brought," Sydney, ap. Johnson. "// a fait cent tours de passe-passe, he has plaid a thousand tricks," Mieo-e's Great French Dictionarv, IG88. NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. 227 ' £ut let my trial he mine aim confession. My gilty hart commaunds my tongue, 0 king, to tell a troth ; I doe confesse this tale is true, and I deserve thy wrath. — Pi'om. Cass. Advertising and holy. That is, observes Johnson, attentive and faithful. " I advertyse, I gyve warnyng or monycion of a thynge," Palsgrave, 1530. / am still attorney d at your service. "Attourney, a spokesman, a patrone, he that in trouble and perill defendeth," Baret, 1580. The Duke merely means to say he is still Isabella's spokesman and agent. A person attorneyed, when he delegated or appointed some other charac- ter to act instead of him. The verb is here used in an active sense. And now, dear maid, he you as free to us. "Be as generous to us ; pardon us as we have pardoned you." This is Dr. Johnson's excellent explanation. Why I ohscurd myself. Obscure, to hide, is now obsolete. " Some fling forth darts, and welkin hie with weapons do obscure," Virgil translated by Phaer, ed. 1600. " Be bat pleas'd to obscure yourself behind these hangings," Shirley's Ball, p. 26. " He obscures," marginal note to Honoria and Mammon, 1G59, p. 37. Malie rash remonstrance of my hidden power. Bemonstrance seems to be used here in a peculiar sense of show or discovery, from the Latin monstro. So, in Shirley's Imposture, — " make in each garden a remonstrance of this battle." Malone suggests to read demonstrance, demon- stration. _ That hraind my purpose. We now use in conversation a like phrase : — 'This it was that knocked my design on the head. Dr. AYarburton reads, haned my purpose. — Johnson. Being criminal, in douhle violation. The construction of this and the next line is somewhat licentious, though the meaning is perfectly evident. Compare the parallel lines in Promos and Cas- sandra. Malone suggests to read promise instead of promise-hreach, and Hanmer reads, in promise-breach. In Cinthio Giraldi's novel, ap. Douce, it is," Yous avez commis deux crimes fort grans. Tun d'avoir diffamu cette jeune femme, par telle tromperie que Ton pent dire que vous I'avez forcee : I'autre d'avoir fait mourir son frere centre la foy a elle donnee," transl. by Chappuys, 1584. ''^ Even from his proper tongue. Proper, own, Lat, "Proper, peculiar, aman'sowne," Baret's Alvearie, 1580. So above, " In the witness of his proper ear." Wlilch, though thou would' st deny, denies thee vantage. Your crime is so apparent, that although you were willing to deny it, it takes away from you all advantage resulting from a denial. '"'^ I hope you will not moch me luith a hushojid! The refined punishment of the criminal being executed immediately after the marriage, is introduced into a ])arallel tale of the Governor of Zealand, related in AYanley's Wonders of the Little World, fol. Lond. 1678, pp. 194, 195, there taken from Lips'ii Monlta, 4to. 1613. Tb.is tale, observes Douce, has been copied * 228 NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. into Burton's Unparalleled Varieties, and into the Spectator, No. 491. There is nothing in it, in connexion with the present drama, to deserve a quotation. This event was made the subject of a French play by Antoine Marechal, called Le jugement equitahle de Charles le hardy, 164G, 4to. Here the offender is called Rodolph governor of ]\Iaestrick, and by theatrical licence turns out to be the duke's own son. Another similar story of Charles's upright judgment may be found in the third volume of Goulart's Thresor d'Eisloires Admirahles, 1C28, 8vo, p. 373. Much about the time when the above events are supposed to have happened, Olivier le Dain, for his wickedness surnamed the Devil, originally the barber, and afterwards the favourite of Louis XL, is said to have committed a similar oflPence, for which he was deservedly hanged. See Godefroy's edition of the Memoirs of Phihp de Comines, Brussels, 1723, 8vo, tom. v. p. 55. The reader will also re- collect the story of colonel Kirke and the hapless maid of Bridgewater, who, unlike the Isabella of Shakespeare, yielded up her innocence to save her brother, whom her betrayer showed, the next morning, executed by his order. But the authen- ticity of this story has been disputed. Hume relates it, not from any authority, but as what had been commonly told of Kirke, and its truth is rendered still more doubtfid from the circumstance of a precisely similar tale being related in the Histoires Tragiques, extraites des oeuvres Italiennes de Bandel, et mises en langue Erancoise, par Francois de Belle-Eorest, ed. 1604, tom. v. pp. 374-424. This tale relates to a captain, who, having seduced the wife of one of his soldiers under a promise to save the life of her husband, exhibited him soon afterwards, through the windoic of his ajMrtment, suspended on a gibbet. His commander, the Marshal de Brissac, after compelling him to marry the widow, adjudges him to death. There are two stories on a similar subject in Goulart's Histoires Admirahles et Memorables advenues de nostre Temps, Svo. Paris, 1618, tom. i. The &st, fol. 221, is of a citizen of Como in Italy, who, in 1547, was detained prisoner by a Spanish captain on a charge of murder. The M ife pleads for him as before, and obtains a promise of favour on the same terms. The husband recommends her compliance, after which the Spaniard beheads him. Complaint is made to the Duke of Eerrara, who compels the captain to marry the widow, and then orders him to be hanged. The other, at fol. 224, is of a provost named La Vouste, whose conduct resembles that of the other villain, with this addition ; he says to the woman, " I promised to restore your husband ; I have not kept him, here he is." No punishment is inflicted on this fellow. The above note is chiefly taken from Douce. In the Eorrest of Eancy, 4to. Lond. 1579, there is a prose tale entitled, — " Theodore, enamoured of Maister Emeries daughter that was his maister, got her with child, for the which he was condemned to be hanged, and as he was whipped through the stretes to the place of execution, being knowne to his father, he procured his pardon, and so Theodore married the maide whom he had before de- flowred." This title sufficiently shows the only two circumstances that bear any relation to the story of the present drama. To the list of imitations, add the novel of Waldburgh and Belanca, in Eey- nolds's God's Eevenge against Adultery. This is the substance of it : In the reign of Gustavus Adolphus king of Sweden, Moruffi, a Danish general, in at- tacking the castle of Colmar, was taken prisoner by the governor count Waldbourg. Belanca, the wife of Moruffi, obtained a promise from the count to liberate her husband on the terms of her submittini? to his unlawful desires. The unfortunate woman was afterwards inhumanly presented with the head of her husband. ^ hen Gustavus heard of the fact, he compelled the count to marry the injured lady, and then condemned him to death. — Douce. This story does not appear to be included iu all the edhions of the work of Eeynolds. NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. 229 58 We do instate and totdow you withal. Instate, that is, invest. Literally, to place in, as in If you Know not Me you know Nobody, sig. A. 3. " Who now by thee instated lives more high," verses by E. Sherburne, MS. Against all sense you do importune her. The meaning required is, against all reason and natural affection. Shakespeare, therefore, judiciously uses a single word that implies both : sense signifying both reason and affection. — Johnson. The same expression occurs in the Tempest, "You cram these words into my ears, against the stomach of my sense." — Steevetis. 60 I partly thinh a due sincerity. This attempted exculpation of Angelo, rhetorical and graceful, was due to Mariana, were it only in grateful return for the part taken by the latter in the plot to save the life of Claudio. But there may well be a higher intention in the poet — to exhibit in a touching light the tendency of woman towards mercy, when the first burst of indignation has passed away. His act did not o'ertaJce his had intent. " The flighty purpose never is o'ertook, unless the deed go with it," Macbeth, cited by Steevens. Buried hut as an intent that perish' d hy the way. That is, hke the traveller, who dies on his journey, is obscurely interred, and thought of no more : — Ilium expirantem — obliti ignoto camporum in pulvere linquunt. — Steevens. Thoughts are no suhjects. Theobald asks, — " how is suhjects to be understood, as with the philosophers ? " Subjects for punishment? Or, possibly, — our thoughts are no subjects, not always subject to our will, and intentions are merely thoughts. Intentions, there- fore, are frequently involuntary. ''^ Merely, my lord. It is absolutely so, my lord. " The mere perdition of the Turkish fleet," Othello. Compare, also, Hamlet, Julius Csesar, &c. Yet did repent me, after more advice. That is, on better deliberation. " How shall I dote on her with more advice," Two Gentlemen of Verona, act ii. sc. 4. " The Greeks, upon advice, did bury Ajax," Titus Andronicus. But, for those earthly faults, I quit them all. Thy faults, so far as they are punishable on earth, so far as they are cognisable by temporal power, I forgive. — Johnson. If he he lihe your hrother. In reference to a note by Dr. Johnson, it is to be observed that Isabel, on the stage, might express her feelings by action. — Boswell. ®^ Well, Angelo, your evil quits you well. Quits you, that is, recompenses, requites you. This is Dr. Johnson's explana- tion, but perhaps, leaves, abandons, may be all that is intended. 230 NOTES TO THE EIFTH ACT. Looli that you love your wife. The King, at the conclusion of Promos and Cassandra, addressing Promos, says, — " Be loving to good Cassandra, thy Avife." Her icorth, icortli yours. That is, says Dr. Johnson, her value is equal to your value, the match is not unworthy of you. Hanmer proposed to read, — her worth icorks yours ; and Heath, — her worth's Avortli yom's. " Cherish your wife, she's worthy of your love," Gildon's alteration, 1700, p. 44. And yet here^s one in place I cannot pardon. The Duke only means to frighten Lucio, whose final sentence is to marry the woman whom he had wronged, on which aU his other punishments are remitted. — Steeve7is. One all of luxury. Luxury, that is, incontinence. " To 't, luxury, pellmell," King Lear. " Why is this luxury called uncleanness ? " Ladies' Dictionary, 1694. ^■^ I spolse it but according to the tricl'. That is, according to the fashion of the times, or the fasliion of thoughtless youth. " Yet 1 have a trick of the old rage," Love's Labour's Lost. " Carnus calls lechery a trick of youth," AVits Bedlam, 1615, ap. Malone. " Or how? the trick of it," supra, p. 121. And therewithal remit thy other forfeits. Forfeits, that is, penalties. The Duke remits all Lucio's offences except the injury done to the woman, and he is ordered to remain in prison until he marry licr. Forfeit was also used in the Erench sense of the word, crime, transgression. — Douce. '^^ Marrying a punh, my lord, is pressing to death. Tlie pressing to death Avas the popular name of the peine forte et dure, inflicted upon prisoners wlio refused to plead. Harrison, in his Description of England, p. 185, says,- — " Such fellons as stand mute, and speake not at their arraignement, are pressed to death by huge weights laid upon a boord that lieth over their brest, and a sharpe stone under their backs, and these commonlie hold their peace, thereby to save their goods unto their wives and children, which, if they were condemned, should be confiscated to the prince." In tlie Year-Book of 8 Henry lY. the form of tlie judgment is first given. The Marshal of the King's Bench is ordered to put the criminals into " diverses measons bases et estoppes, que ils gisent par la terre touts nuds forsque leurs braces, que ils mettroit sur chascun d'eux tants de fer et poids quils puissent porter et plus," &e. This barbarous punishment was not formally abolislied till the act of 12 Geo. III. c. 20, and cases of it occurred even in the last century as recently as the year 1741. Tlie following minute account of it is extracted from Ozell's translation of Misson's Memoirs, 8vo. Lond. 1719, p. 217 : — "When a felon, punishable with death, takes a resolution not to make any answer to his judges, after the second calling upon, he is cariy'd back to his dungeon, and is put to a sort of rack call'd Feine forte et dure. If he speaks, his indictment goes on in the usual forms ; if he continues dumb, they leave him to die under that punishment. He is stretcli'd out naked upon his back, and his arms and legs drawn out by cords, and fasten'd to the four corners of the dungeon : a board or })late of iron is laid upon his stomach, and this, is heap'd up Avitli stones to a certain weight. The next day NOTES TO THE EIFTE ACT. 231 they give him, at three different times, tliree little morsels of barly bread, and nothing to drink : the next day three little glasses of water, and nothing to eat : and if he continues in his obstinacy, they leave him in that condition 'till he dies. This is practis'd only upon felons, or persons guilty of petty treason. Criminals of High Treason in the like case, would be condemn'd to the usual punishment ; their silence would condemn them." The cm^ious illustration of the infliction of tliis punishment, which is here annexed, is copied from an engraving on the title-page of an exceedingly rare tract entitled, " The Life and Death of Grif- fin Elood, informer, whose cunning courses, churlish manners, and troublesome informa- tions, molested a num- ber of plaine dealing people in this City of London : wherein is also declared the murther of John Chip- perford, vintner, for which fact the said Griffin Elood was pressed to death the 18. day of January last past," 4to. Lond. 1G23. The last chapter is headed, " How, after all these his troublesome courses of life, he was for a murther pressed to death," and proceeds as follows : — " Now to come to the last period of his shame and devilfish manners, in an agony of wrath (furthered on by Satan) he most wickedly stabbed a constable, and withall a vintner, both at one time ; whereof the vintner, after he had long lyen languishing, died as a man murthered by wilfuU violence, for wliicli this Elood was atached, imprisoned, arraigned, and put to tryall, but by no per- swasions would he commit himselfe to the law, but most obstinately stood to the severe justice of the Bench, who, according to custome, censured liim to the presse, where he received his deserts by being bruised in terrible manner to a most fearfull death : whose execution was performed in the pressing yard at Newgate upon the 18. of January this present yeare." One of the yards in tlio modern prison of Newgate is stifi called the Press-yard, the name no doubt having been continued from that of the press-yard in the ancient structure. Love her, Angela. See a similar exhortation at the conclusion of Promos and Cassandra. ^'^ There is more hehind, that is more gratnlaie. Gratulate, that is, worthy of rejoicing, to be rejoiced in. The term here is somewhat ficentiously used. " To gratulate and rejoyce on another's behalfe," Minsheu. The Duke had previously said to Angelo and Escalus, though tlie sentiment was acknowledged only by the former, — " our soul cannot but yield you forth to public thanks, forerunning more requital." He is now addressing Escalus. " To gratulate unto you that honourable place whereunto you are right worthily advanced," Lambarde's Archeion, 1591, ap. Singer. Heywood also, in'his Apology for Actors, 1612, ap. Malone, uses to gratulate, in the sense of io reward: " I could not chuse but gratulate your honest endeavours with this remembrance." 232 NOTES TO THE EIFTH ACT. ""^ The offence pardons itself. Dr. Johnson proposes to assign these words to Ang-elo, making the Duke follow, transferring to the commencement of his speech the line above, — " There's more behind, that is more gratulate." I cannot but suspect that some other had new-modelled the novel of Cinthio, or written a story which in some particulars resembled it, and that Cinthio was not the author whom Shakespeare immediately followed. The Emperor in Cinthio is named Maximine : the Duke, in Shakespeare's enumeration of the persons of the drama, is called Vincentio. This appears a very slight remark ; but since the Duke has no name in the play, nor is ever mentioned but by his title, why sliould he be called Vincentio among the persons, but because the name was copied from the story, and placed superfluously at the head of the list by the mere habit of transcription ? It is therefore likely that there was then a story of Vincentio Duke of Vienna, different from that of Maximine Emperor of the Komans. — Dr. Johnson. In Lupton's Siquila : Too good to be True, 1580, 4to., there is a long story of a woman, M'ho, her husband having slain his adversary in a duel, goes to the judge for the purpose of prevailing on him to remit the sentence of the law. He obtains of her, in the first place, a large sura of money, and afterwards the reluctant prostitution of her person, under a solemn promise to save her husband. The rest, as in Belleforest's novel, ut supra. — Donee. The following story in Cooke's Vindication of the Professors and Profession of the Law, 4to. Lond. IGJ^G, pp. 61-G-i, is sufficiently paralleled with the conduct of the present drama to deserve a transcript : — " In the great warres betweene Charles the Eifth and Erancis the Eirst, one Kaynucio was imprisoned at JMillan for betraying a fort to the Erench ; his wife, who for beauty was called the nosegay of the parish, petitioned the governour for her husband's inlargement ; the governour, being so enamoured that there was little hopes of liberty (had there been no more in it but that he might behold the lady, who daily attended with petitions), being able to conceale the fire no longer, told her that his life Avas in her hands, and he was as much her prisoner as her husband was his, and that she must yeeld to his desire or be an undone widow ; the vertuous soule covered her cheekes with the colour of roses, and desired to speake with her husband, whom she made acquainted with it, telling him that if her life would save his, she would gladly lose it, but my honour being required you must prepare for death ; he commended her magnanimity, and how sad their parting was you may easier conceive then I can expresse ; the houre being appointed for his execution, he considered that life was sweet, and skin after skin, one thing after another, Avhat would not he doe to preserve a little momentary breath ! sends for his deare consort, and cries to her as if he had beene her childe, to yeeld to the governour, and, to win her consent, saies ; first, that honour consists but in the opinion of the world, and that a sinne wholly concealed is halfe pardoned, as the priests use to say. Secondly, that Spaniards are most faithfuU in keeping promise, and no doubt he would sweare never to reveale it. Thirdly, that he would be the death of him, as by the law of Spaine he might (for any man may kill him that lyes with his wife, the provocation being so great. In Italy, he must kill his wife as well as the adulterer, or else he dyes for it, as being presumed that he did it not in the way of justice, but revenge) the poore soule yeelds, for, as Job saies, if this be the condition of our temporal! being, that we never continue in the same condi- tion, mucli more are our spirits mutable as they are more subtill, (not that I speake this in the least title to justifie her, for should I goe about to excuse it, it miglit be a greater sinne in me then the offence was in her; as for a lawyer NOTES TO THE FIFTH ACT. 233 wittingly to patronize an unjust cause, is worse in him then in the clyent); Garcias had her in his power as a bird insnared, and, being M^eary, dismisses her with a promise to set her husband at Hbcrty ; but the Spaniard considering that a man or womans lionour is Uke a great fort, take that and you command all the rest, tells the prisoner that he must pay ten thousand crownes redemption, she with much difficulty satisfies that demand likewise, and was promised that her husband should be sent home to her house the next day, but the perfidious governour, bethinking himselfe what daiiger he might incur from the emperour, and fearing that the man might be revenged on him (for dead men doe not bite, therefore in some places of Italy you may have a man killed for five shillings, but not cudgelled under twenty) sent a priest to him to prepare himselfe for death, and caused his body divided from his head to be sent home the next day in performance of his promise ; now for the poore soule to see her selfe deprived of husband, honour, and goods altogether, her griefe was above expression, and the torment the greater that, if it were discovered, she would be abhorred ; and if concealed, it could not be cured ; at last, with extreame shame she made it knowne to a friend both able and faithfuU. Now the Duke of Ferrara being generall for the emperour, Amelia presents her requests for justice against Garcias, who was con- vented at Ferrara, and thinking that as the adultery of Mars and Venus served onely for sport in the court of the heathen gods, thought that the generall would but laugh at the conceit, or at the worst would remand him to his command at Milan, perswading himselfe that in such a case his souldiers would not let him suffer, he confessed the fact, said it was so pleasing a sinne, that it was impossible he should ever repent of it, and, upon the matter, told the generall that the traitor was deservedly executed, and therefore he was not troubled at what might be the event of it. Sales the Duke, Why am I made great, but that I should doe justice upon the greatest offender ? Garcias, said the Duke, you must restore to this lady her ravisht honour. Sir, sales he. That is impossible, and what's past helpe, sliall be past greife. But you may marry her, sales the Duke, for you loved her once, and you must love her for ever, or lose your life, and that you shall doe this day. I loved her indeed, sales Garcias, as Herod loved Mariamma, or as the hunter loves the venison to make sport or to feed upon it, but I am not prepared for deatli, therefore I chuse rather to marry her. iEmilia upon her knees intreates that she may rather dye then marry him whom she so much abhorred ; but the Duke, having whispered with her, she submitted to his good pleasure. The same priest joyned them together, by vertue whereof she was intitled to his estate, and of a forced bargaine Garcias hoped to make the best of it; but that which was as lushious as locusts, proves as bitter as coloquintida, for the Duke adjudged him to lose his head instantly, and the same priest appointed to prepare him for that fatall blow." Collations of Measure for Measure icith the text of the play in the first folio o/'1623.- — P. 61, col. 1, But that, to your sufficiency. But task to your svfjicience, MS. Dent ; know your pleasure, Grace's pleasure, ed. 1632. P. 61, col. 2, my part in him, in my part me, Hanmer ; with a leaven'd, icith leaven d, MS. Dent ; of your commissions, of your commission, ed. 1663. P. 62, col. 1, sanctimonious, testhnonious. Pope ; before meat, after meat, MS. Dent. P. 62, col. 2, but from Lord Angelo, hiit from Angelo, ed. ]632. P. 63, col. 1, the mortality of imprison- ment, tlie morality, Davenant, 1673 ; propogation of a dowre, the assurance of a dowry, ibid. 1673 ; writ on, tnit in, ed. 1632 ; there is a prone, a sweet, Davenant ; Avhich else would stand under, ivhich else would stand upon, ed. 1632, ed. 1663. P. 63, col. 2, witless bravery, and witless hrarery, ed. 1632 ; I have deliver'd, / have delivered, ed. 1632; stricture, strictness, Davenant, 1673: for so, far so, ed. 1632; to headstrong, /or /^f/?;/«, Davenant, 1673; so then you, so then you've, MS. note in Mr. Quincy's fourth folio ; by no means, no way, ed. 1685 ; for thou exists, sic in ed. 1623 ; do call thee fire, do call thee sire, ed. 1685 and MS. Dent ; sapego, ed. 1623, sarpego, ed. 1632 ; nor youth, not youth, ed. 1685. P. 71, coL 1, dear sir, f/^-^r so;;, Monck Mason ; bring them to hear, &c., bring me, where I conceaVd, may hear them speak, Davenant, 1G73; through all, though all, MS. Dent and Pope; you had, you adde, MS. Dent; as when a giant dies, as doth a giant dying, Seymour; flowrie, ed. 1623, flowing, Gildon, 1700 ; nips youth i' th' head, nips youth i' th' bud. Dr. Grey. P. 71, col. 2, as falcon, as falconer. Dr. Grey ; as deep, as /o«/, Davenant, 1673 ; prenzie, ed. 1623, ed. 1632, in two places ; damnedst, damned, ed. 16C3; I'de throw, I'le throw, ed. 1663; momentary, momentany, ed. 1663 ; '^e\']\\vY, j^enury. NOTES TO THE EIFTtl ACT. 235 ed. 1632 ; wilderness, wildness, or wiliness, Dr. Grey. P. 72, col. 1, hear me, Isabella, stage direction, ''Biihe steps in" ed. 1632 ; satisfy, falsijle, MS. Dent ; made to you, made on you, Hanmer ; how will you do, hoio icotildyou do, Malone ; to have hearing, to have a hearing, eds. 18 century ; speak farther, speah, father, ed. 1685 ; she should, her should, Malone; to her oath, to her hj oath, ed. 1632 ; and, omitted in ed. 1685. P. 72, col. 2, in few, in few words, ed. 1663 ; to her tears, to her ears, ed. 1632 ; with fox and, loith fox on, M. Mason. P. 73, col. 1, away, Iray, MS. Dent ; our faults, all faults, ed. 1685 ; as faults from seeming free, as from fault-seeming free, MS. Dent; go say, don't say, MS. Dent. P. 73, col. 2, he is a, he has no, MS. Dent; detected, detracted, CapelL P. 74, col. 1, me to, me too, ed. 1632 ; he's now past, &c,, he's not past it yet, and, Isayt to thee, MS. Dent. P. 74, col. 2, from the s^a,,from the see, MS. Dent; leave we him, leave him, ed. 1663 ; by my good leisure, hj my good lecture, anon, conjecture. — P. 75, col. 1, my mirth it, my mirth is, Warburton. P. 75, col. 2, quest, quests, ed. 1632 ; tithe, tilth, MS. Dent. P. 76, col. 1, your bawd, you hawd, ed. 1632 ; find me y'are, find me yours, ed. 18th Century ; none since, nov) since, ed. 1632 ; they will, there tvill, eds. var. P. 76, col. 2, carelesse, wreaklesse, sic in ed. 1623. P. 77, col. 2, Dizie, I)i::y, ed. 1632 ; Shootie, Shooty, ed. 1632 ; are now, are now in, MS. notation ; your friends, your friend, Davenant, 1673 ; but heare, hut heave, ed. 1632. P. 78, col. 1, of his colour, of colour, ed. 1632; weale-ballanc'd, tcell-halancd,M.^.J)Q\\i; by so holj, he so holy, ed. 1632 ; show your wisdom, daughter, in your close patience, shoii) icisdom, daughter, in your closest patience, eds. of the 18th century. P. 78, col. 2, whose, tcho's, ed. 1632 ; beholding to your reports, sic in ed. 1623 ; very little of it, very little of, ed. 1632 ; a kind of, a hind of a, ed. 1632. P. 79, col. 1, reliver, deliver, ed. 1632 ; dares her no, dares her to it, dares her on, M. Mason ; Elavia's house, sic in ed. 1623 ; Yalencius, sic in ed. 1623. P. 79, col. 2, hent, hemnid, conjecture ; thankings to you, thanhings he to you, ed. 1632 ; 1 should wrong it, I should icrong, ed. 1632; with characters, cA^frac^m, early MS. commonplace- book; give we your hand, sic in ed. 1623 ; upon a wrong'd, &c., up)on a loronged, I would fain say maid, or, ^ipon a icrong'd, I fain would have said maid, Seymour ; oh! mQ\\QMQ, oh! hear me, some editions; most bitterly and strange, most hitterly, ed. 1632. P. 80, col. 1, by mine honesty, hy mine honor, MS. Quincy; as then, was then, anon, conjecture; told somewhat, told something, ed. 1632. P. 80, col. 2, the needless process by, the needless hy, ed. 1632 ; the vild conclusion, sic in ed. 1623 ; in countenance, in seeming goodness, early MS. commonplace- book ; that she speaks, tvliich she speah, ed. 1632. P. 81, col. 1, of a strange fever, of a strong fever, MS. Dent; upon his, 2(pon this, some editions; intended 'gainst, intended against, ed. 1632 ; show your face, show her face, ed. 1632, an obvious emendation ; why you are, tchy are you, ed. 1632 ; charges she moe then me, sic in ed. 1623 ; that he knows, that he hiew, Hanmer. P. 81, col. 2, enoug, enough, ed. 1632 ; in's garden house, sic in ed. 1623 ; informal women, informing women,, MS. Dent ; mightier member, mighty memher, MS. Quincy ; to your, tmto your, modern editions ; against his, 'gainst his, ed. 1632 ; strong enough against, early MS. commonplace-book. P. 82, col. 1, she would, she should, ed. 1632 ; in foul, mth foul, some eds. of the last century. P. 82, col. 2, eremad'st, ere made ; like powre divine, sic in ed. 1623 ; thou ere, thou ever, ed. 1632 ; and holy, all holy, Hanmer ; my hidden powre, sic in ed. 1623. P. 83, col. 1, confu- tation, confiscation, ed. 1632, this latter reading being generally adopted ; nor no, 10071' d no, Gildon, 1700. P. 83, col. 2, I wovX^, I wouldst, ed. 1632; and pray thee, I pray thee, ed. 1632 ; if any woman, if any woman s, Hanmer. P. 84, col. 1, the names, names, ed. 1632 ; your good, you good; that meet, that's ?neet, ed. 1632. The reader will not fail to have observed, in the above list, the worthless- 23G XOTES TO THE FIFTH ACT. ncss of tlie reading's of the two latest folios. The second folio is of course of no critical authority, but still it occasionally presents intelligent corrections of what are obviously errors of the press in the first edition ; but the third is reprinted from the second, and the fourth from the third, with variations that are almost always the results of either ncglig-ence or caprice. These alterations are occasionally violent, a curious example occurring in the fifth act, where the Duke, addressing Isabella, says, according to the first, second, and third folios, — " By heaven, /oy^c? irretch, thou know'st not what thou speak'st," the printer of the fourth folio altering this to, — " By heaven, /c';/^/ wench,''' which is exactly one of that class of specious modernizations of which there are so many examples in the Perkins manuscript. It may be just worth while adding a few other readings from the last two folio editions, which will complete the above list : — "As it is as dangerous," the first as omitted in ed. 1663, seep. 151; "but leave tee him," omitted in ed. 1663 ; " he Avill not icahe''' not airahe, ed. 1663 ; " this is a thing that Angelo knows not," which, ed. 1685 ; " yom friends, sir, the hangman, "//vVy/f/, ed. 1663, a reading I have inserted in the text; " and / will have more time," /omitted in ed. 1685 ; " this wor hurts him," not, ed. 1685; "many ixwdi h^Q^xij thankings be to you," thinliiuijs, ed. 1663 ; "this needs must be a practice," a omitted in ed. 1685; "O/i heaven, the vanity," ^A, ed. 1685; "perchance, publicly, she'llhe ashamed," she 'Id, e^. 1685; "I ic ould iXiow. hadst done so," wouldst, eds. 1632, 1663, 1685, hast, ed. 1685; "and squar'st thy life according^' accordingly, ed. 1685. The four folios having been successively reprinted, the second from the first, and so on, it has been considered unnecessary in most cases to indicate that any particular alteration is also to be found in a later copy, except, as in some few instances, where the error has been corrected by a return to the original text. This is especially to be observed with respect to obvious misprints. Thus, at the commencement of the present drama, in the eleventh line of the Duke's second speech, the verb remember is misprinted remememher in the second folio (ed. 1632), the error being peculiar to that edition. Trivial indications of this kind are of great value to persons who possess any of the numerous imperfect copies of the second folio, which are sometimes advertised as being the first, and may also serve to detect vitiated made-up copies of the latter edition, for I believe several copies of the first folio are in existence possessing leaves of the second folio, the pagination throughout the volume being nearly identical in both impressions, and thus serving the pui'pose of completion to those who would use the inferior edition for tlie at- tainment of that object, either in ignorance or from a recklessness of the mischief that results from such practices. I am most careful, in the present edition, to place confidence in those copies only that I am convinced are perfectly genuine, and wliicli have not passed through the improving hands of any of the present generation. Davenant, in his Law against Lovers, 1673, has made gi'eat use of Measure for Measure and Much Ado about Nothing, having in fact interwoven the two plots into one drama, and adapted much of the language of each of those l)lays. In the year 1700, an alteration of this comedy by Charles Gildon was published, under the title of, " Measure for Measure, or Beauty the best Advocate, as it is Acted at the Theatre in Lincoln's Inn Fields ; written originally by Mr. Shake- spear, and now very mucli alter'd, with additions of several enterta nments of ]\l!isick," 4to. This performance is of very questionable merit, and the author has unfortunately not recorded any traditions relating to the original drama that might have been then current. The original play is nearly lost in this tasteless altera- tion, which a])pears, however, to have had the advantage of some good music. One of the songs in it, — " Fear no danger to ensue," was set to music by Purcell, an engraved copy of which, now before me, is entitled, — "A Song hi tlie Play call'd Pleasure for Measure, set by Mr. Ilenry Purcell, and exactly engrav'd by NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. 237 Tlio : Cross," and, I believe, all the music was by the same composer. Collation : — Title-page, one leaf, list of dramatis persona) on the reverse; dedication to Nicholas Battersby, one leaf; Prologue by Oldmixon, spoken by Betterton, and Epilogue, Shakespeare's Ghost, spoken by Mr. Verbruggen, together one leaf; the play itself, pp. 1 — 48 (misprinted 84). A few of the alterations made by Davenant and Gildon are noticed in the collations, but it is scarcely necessary to say that neither of these writers are of the slightest critical authority. Their variations are, for the most part, tasteless modernizations of the original language. The period of action of the Promos and Cassandra of Whetstone is referred to the latter part of the fifteenth century, when Corvinus was King of Hungary and Bohemia, the latter title having been obtained in the year 1473. There is a passage in the first act which leads to the conclusion that Shakespeare's drama is to be assigned to the same period in regard to the events described in it, — " If the duke, with the other dukes, come not to composition with the king of Hungary, why, then all the dukes fall upon the king." The First Gentleman answers, — " Heaven grant us its peace, but not the king of Hungary's !" The " other dukes " may refer to tlie petty rulers of Germany, the term duke being somewhat indiscriminately bestowed on any kind of governor or ruler. The second speech evidently refers to a time when Austria was at enmity with Hungary , and, in all probability, to the well-known events which occurred under tlie rule of TMathias Corvinus. The subject has been discussed at length, and with great ability, by Mr. B. G. White. Whetstone's play was printed in the year 1578, and the following reprint of it has been collated with a copy of the original edition. TJie Jliglit Excellent and Famous Historije of Promos and Cassandra, divided into tico commicall Discourses. In the JFyrste Parte is showne the unsufferahle abuse of a lewde Magistrate : the vertuous hehavioars of a chaste Ladye : the uncontroioled leawdenes of a favoured Curtisan : And the undeserved estimation of a pernicious Farasyte. In the second parte is discoursed the perfect magnanimitye of a nolAe Kinge, in checlcing Vice and favouringe Vertue : Wherein isshoifne theBuyne and Overthrowe of dishonest practises : with the adcauncement of upright dealing. The worhe of George Whetstones Gent. Fornm nulla Fides. To his worshipfull friende and Kinseman, AVilliam Eleetewoode, Esquier, Recorder of London . Syr, desirous to acquite your tryed frendships with some token of good will, of late I perused divers of my unperfect workes, fully minded to bestowe on you the travell of some of my forepassed time. But resolved to accompanye the adventurous Captaine Syr Humfrey Gylbert, in his honorable voiadge, I found my leysure too littel to correct the errors in my sayd workes. So that (inforced) I lefte them disparsed amonge my learned freendes, at theyr leasure, to polish, if I faild to returne : spoyling (by this meanes) my studdy of his necessarye furnyture. Amonge other unregarded papers, 1 fownde this discourse of Promos and Cassandra : which, for the rarenesse (and the needeful knowledge) of the necessary matter contained therein (to make the actions appeare more lively), 1 devided the whole history into two commedies : for that, decorum used, it would not be convayde in one. The effects of both are good and bad : vertue intermyxt with vice, unlawfull desyres (yf it were posible) quean cht with chaste denyals : al needeful actions (1 thinke) for publike vewe. Eor by the rewarde of tlie good, the good are encowraged in wel doinge : and with the scowrge of the lewde, the lewde are feared from evill attempts : mainetayning this my oppinion with Platoes auctority : — ' Nawghtinesse commes of the corruption of nature, and not by readinge or heariuge the lives of the good or lewde (for such publication is necessarye), but goodnesse (sayth he) is beawtifyed by either action.' And to these endes, 238 NOTES TO TEE FIFTH ACT. Menandcr, Plautiis, and Terence themselves many yeares since iutombed (by their cominedies) in honour live at this daye. The auncient Eomans heald these showes of suche prise, that they not onely allowde the pubHke exercise of them, but the grave Senators themselves countenaunced the actors with their presence : who from these trifles wonne morallytye, as the bee suckes lionny from weedes. But the advised devises of auncient poets, discredited with the tryfels of yonge, unadvised, and rashe \\dtted wryters, hath brought this commendable exercise in mislike. For at this daye, the Italian is so lascivious in his commedies, that honest hearers are greeved at his actions : the Frenchman and Spaniarde folowes the Italians humor : the Germaine is too holye, for he presentes on every common stage what preachers should pronounce in pulpets. The Englishman, in this quaUitie, is most vaine, indiscreete, and out of order : he fyrst groundes liis worke on impossibilities : then in three howers ronnes, he throwe the worlde, marryes, gets children, makes children men, men to conquer kingdomes, murder monsters, and bringeth gods from heaven, and fetchetli divels from hel. And (that which is worst) their ground is not so unperfect, as their workiuge indiscreete : not waying, so the people laugh, though they laugh them (for theyr follyes) to scorne : Manye tymes (to make mirthe) they make a clowne companion witli a kinge : in theyr grave counsels, they allow the advise of fooles : yea they use one order of speach for all persons : a grose indecorum, for a crowe wyll yU counterfet the nightin- gales sweete voice : even so, afiPected speeche doth misbecome a clowne. For to Avorke a commedie kindly, grave olde men should instruct : yonge men should showe the imperfections of youth : strumpets should be lascivious : boyes unhappy : and clowTies should speake disorderlye : entermingling all these actions in such sorte, as the grave matter may instruct, and the pleasant delight : for, without this cliaunge, the attention would be small, and the likinge lesse. But leave I this rehearsall of the use and abuse of commedies : least that I checke that in others, which I cannot amend in myselfe. But this I am assured, what actions so ever passeth in this history, either merry or morneful, grave or lascivious, the conclusion showes the confusion of vice, and the cherising of vertue. And sythe the end tends to this good, although the worke (because of evel handlinge) be unworthy your learned censure, allowe (I beseeche you) of my good wyU, untyl leasure serves me to perfect some labour of more wortlie. No more but that, Almightye God be your protector, and preserve me from dainger in this A'oiadge, the xxix. of July, 1578. Your kinsman to use, George Whetstone. The Frinter to the llcader. — Gentle Eeader, this labour of ]\Iaister Whetstons came into my handes in his fyrst coppy, whose leasure was so lyttle (being then readie to depart his country) that he had no time to worke it anew, nor to geve apt instructions to prynte so difficult a worke, beyng full of variety, both matter, speache, and verse : for that every sundry actor hath in all these a sundry grace ; so that, if I commit an error, without blaming the auctor, amend my amisse : and if, by cliaunce, thou light of some speache that seemeth dark, consider of it with judgement, before thou condemne the worke: for in many places he is driven both to praise and blame with one breath, which in readinge wil seeme hard, and in action appeare plaine. Losing this courtesy, I hould my paynes wel satisfyed, and Maister Wlietston uninjured : and, for my owne part, I wil not faile to procm-e such bookes as may profit thee with delight. Thy Friend, E. I. The Argument of the Whole Historye. In the Cyttie of Julio (sometimes under the dominion of Corvinus, King of Hungarie and Boernia) there was a law that what man so ever commited adultery should lose liis head, and the woman offender should weare some disguised apparrel during lier life, to make her infamouslye noted. Tliis severe lawe, by the NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. 239 favour of some mercifull magistrate, became little regarded untill the time of Lord Promos auctority : who, convicting a yong gentleman, named Andrugio, of incontinency, condemned both him and his minion to the execution of this statute. Andrugio had a very vertuous and beawtiful gentlewoman to his sister, named Cassandra : Cassandra, to enlarge her brothers life, submitted an humble petition to the Lord Promos : Promos, regarding her good behaviours, and fantasyng her great beawtie, was much delighted with the sweete order of her talke : and doying good, that evill might come thereof, for a time he repryv'd her brother : but, wicked man, tourning his liking unto unlawfull lust, he set downe the spoile of her honour raunsome for her brothers life : chaste Cassandra, abliorring both him and his sute, by no perswasion would yeald to this raunsome. But, in fine, wonne with the importunitye of hir brother pleading for life, upon these conditions she agreede to Promos : Pirst, that he should pardon her brother, and after marry her. Promos, as feareles in promisse as carelesse in performance, with sollemne vowe sygned her conditions : but worse then any infydel, his will satisfyed, he performed neither the one nor the other : for to keepe his aucthoritye unspotted with favour, and to prevent Cassandrae's clamors, he commaunded the gayler secretly to present Cassandra with her brother's head. The gayler, with the outcryes of Andrugio, abhorryng Promos lewdenes, by the providence of God, provyded thus for his safety. He presented Cassandra with a felons head newlie executed, who (being- mangled, knew it not from her brother's who was set at libertie by the Gayler) was so agreeved at this trecherye, that at the pointe to kyl her selfe, she spared that stroke to be avenged of Promos. And devisyng a way, she concluded to make her fortunes knowne unto the kinge. She (executinge this resolution) was so highly favoured of the king, that forthwith he hasted to do justice on Promos : whose judgement was, to marry e Cassandra, to repaire her erased honour : which donne, for his hainous offence he should lose his head. This maryage solempnised, Cassandra, tyed in the greatest bondes of affection to her husband, became an earnest suter for his life : the kinge (tendringe the generall benefit of the common weale before her special case, although he favoured her much) would not graunt her sute, Andrugio (disguised amonge the company) sorrowing the griefe of his sister, bewrayde his safetye, and craved pardon. The kinge, to renowne the vertues of Cassandra, pardoned both him and Promos. The circumstances of this rare historye in action lyvelye foloweth. Act. I. Sc. I. Promos, Mayor, Shirife, Sworde-bearer : one idtli a htmche of keijes : Phallax, Promos man. You ofB.cers which now in Julio staye. Know you our leadge, the King of Hungarie, Sent me Promos, to joyne with you in sway. That styll we may to justice have an eye. And now to show my rule and power at lardge, Attentivelie his Letters Pattents heare : Phallax, reade out my soveraines chardge. Phallax. As you commaunde, I wyll give heedefull care. [Phallax readeth the Khige's Letters Patents, ichich must he fayre icritten in parchment, idth some great counterfeat zeale. Promos. Loe, here you see what is our soveraignes wyl ; Loe, heare his wish that right not might beare swaye ; Loe, heare his care to weede from good the yll, To scoorge the wights good lawes that disobay. 240 NOTES TO THE EIFTH ACT. Sucli zcalc he beares unto the common -weale, (How so he bids, the ignorant to save) As he commaundes, the lewde doo rigor feele : Such is his wish, such is my wyll to have ; And such a judge here Promos vowes to be. No wylfidl wrong sharpe punishment shall mysse ; The simple thrall shal be judgde with mercie, Each shall be doombde even as his merite is. Eove shall not staye, nor hate revenge procure, Xe yet shall coyne corrupt or foster wrong : I doo protest, whylste that my charge indure, Eor friende nor foe to singe a partiall song. Thus have you heard howe my commission goes ; He absent, I present our soveraigne styll : It aunsweres then, each one his dutie sliowes To mee, as him, what I commaunde and wyll. Mayor. Worthy Deputie, at tliy chardge we joye, We doe submitte our selves to worke thy heast : Receyve tlie sword of justice to destroy The wicked impes, and to defend the rest. Sliirife. Our citty keyes take, wisht liftenaunt, heare ; We doe committe our safetie to thy head : Thy wyse foresight will keepe us voyde of feare, Yet vrjW. we be assistant still at neede. Promos. Eoth sworde and keies unto my princes use, I doo recepe and gladlie take my chardge. It resteth noM'e, for to reforme abuse. We poynt a tyme of councell more at lardge ; To treate of which, a wliyle we wyll depart. All speahe. To worke your wyll we yeelde a wylling hart. [Ed-eunt. Act. I. Sc. II. — Lamia, a Curthane, entrelh synging. The Song. Al a flaunt now vaunt it ! brave wenche, cast away care ; With layes of love cliaunt it ; for no cost see thou spare. Sith nature hath made thee with bewty most brave, Sith fortune dotli lade thee with what thou wouldst have : Ere pleasure doth vade thee, thy selfe set to sale. All wantoDs will trade thee, and stowpe to thy stale. All a flaunt, ut mpra. Yong ruflers maintaines thee, defends thee and thine ; Olde dottrels retain es thee, thy beuties so shine ; Though many disdaynes thee, yet none may thee tuch ; Thus envie refraynes thee, thy countenauuce is such. AU a flaunt, ut supra. Shee spealcetli. Triumphe, fayre Lamia, now, thy wanton flag advaunce ; Set foortli thy self to bravest show, host thou of happy chaunce. Gyrle, accompt thou thy selfe the cheefe of Lady Pleasure's traine ; Thy face is faire, thy forme content, thy fortunes both doth staine. Even as thou wouldst thy house doth stande, thy furniture is gay, Tliy weedes are brave, thy face is fine, and who for this doth paye? NOTES TO THE FIETH ACT. Thou thy self? no, the rushing youthes that bathe in wanton blisse, Yea, olde and dooting fooles sometimes doo helpe to paye for this. Eree cost betweene them both I have, all this for my behove ; I am the sterne that gides their thoughts, looke what I like, they love. Eew of them sturre that I byd stale ; if I bid go, they flye ; If I on foe pursue revenge, Alarnie a hundred crye. The bravest, I their harts, their handes, their purses holde at wyl, Joynde with the credite of the best, to bowlster mee in yll. But see wheras my trustie man doth run ; what newes brings he ? Act. I. Sc. III. — Eosko (Lamia's Man), Lamia. Mosko. Good people ; did none of you my mistresse Lamia see ? Lamia. Eosko, what newes, that in such haste you come blowing ? Bosko. Mistresse, you must shut up your shops, and leave your occupyin Lamia. What so they be, foolish knave, teU me true ? Bosho. Oh yll, for thirtie besydes you. Lamia. Eor me, good fellowe ! I praye thee why so ? Bosko. Be patient, Mistresse, and you shall knowe. Lamia. Go too, saye on. Bosko. Marrie, right nowe at the Sessions I was. And thirtie must to Trussim corde go. Among the which (I weepe to showe) alas ! Lamia. Why, what's the matter, man ? Bosko. 0 Andrugio, Eor loving too kindlie, must loose his heade, And his sweete hart must weare the shamefull weedes Ordainde for dames that fall through fleshly deedes. Lamia. Is this offence in question come againe ? Tell, tell no more ; tys tyme this tale were done : See, see, howe soone my triumphe turnes to paine. Bosko. Mistresse, you promised to be quiet ; Eor Gods sake, for your owne sake, be so. Lamia. Alas, poore Eosko, our dayntie dyet. Our braverie and all we must forgo. Bosko. I am sorie. Lamia. Yea, but out alas ! sorrowe wyll not serve : Eosko, thou must needes provide thee else where ; My gaynes are past, yea, I my selfe might starve. Save that I did provide for a deare yeare. Bosko. They rewarde fape (their harvest in the stacke) When winter comes that byd their servaunts packe. Alas, mistresse, if you turne mee off now, Better then a roge none wyU me allowe. Lamia. Thou shalt have a pasporte. Bosko. Yea, but after what sorte ? Lamia. Why, that thou wart my man. Bosko. 0 the judge sylde showes the favour. To let one theefe bayle another : Tush, I know, ere long you so wyll slyp awaye, 2i2 NOTES TO THE EIFTII ACT. As you, for your selfe, must seeke some testimony Of your good lyfe. Lamia. Never feare : honestly Lamia nowe meanes to lyve, even tyll slie dye. Rosko. As jumpe as apes in vewe of nuttes to daunce, Kytte will to kinde, of custome, or by chaunce : Well, liowe so you stande upon this holy poynt, For the thing- you knowe, you wyll jeobarde a joynt. Lamia. Admitte I M'oulde, my hazarde were in vaine. Rosho. Perhappes I know to turne the same to gaine. Lamia. Thou comforts mee, good Eosko, tell me liowe ? Rosko. You wyl be honest, 'twere syn to hinder you. Lamia. I dyd but jeast, good sweete servaunt, tell mee. Rosko. Sweete servaunt now, and late ; pack, s)t, God bwy ye. Lamia. Tush, to trye thy unwillingnesse, I dyd but jeast. Rosko. And I doo but trye how long you woulde be honest. Lamia. I thought thy talke was too sweete to be true. Rosko. Yea, but meant you to byd honestie adue ? Lamia. No, I dyd so long since, but inforste by need, To byd him welcome home again e I was decreede. Rosko. Yerie good, mistresse, I know your minde. And for your ease this remedie I finde : Prying abroade for playfellowes and such, Eor you, mistresse, I heard of one Phallax, A man esteemde of Promos verie much : Of whose nature I was so bolde to axe, And I smealt he lov'd lase mutton well. Lamia. And what of this ? Rosko. Marry of this, if you the waye can tell To towle him home, he of you wyll be fayne, "Whose countenaunce wyll so excuse your faultes, As none, for life, dare of your lyfe complaine. Lamia. A good device, God graunt us good successe : But I praye thee, what trade dotli he professe ? Rosko. He is a paltrie petyfogger. Lamia. All the better, suspition vryU be the lesse. Well, go thy wayes, and if thou him espye, Tell liim from mee that I a cause or two Woulde put to him at leysure wyllinglie. Rosko. Hir case is so common, that smal pleading wyl serve ; I go (nay ronne) your commaundement to observe. Lamia. Aye me, alas, lesse Phallax helpe, poore wench undone I am : My foes nowe in tlie winde vryW lye to worke my open shame : Now envious eyes will prie abroade offenders to intrap. Of force nowe Lamia must be chaste, to shun a more mishap. And, wanton girle, how wilt tliou shift for garments fine and gay ? For dainty fare ? can crusts content ; M ho shal thy houserent pay ? And that delights thee most of all, thou must thy daliaunce leave ; And can then the force of lawe or death, thy minde of love bereave? In good faith, no : the wight that once hath tast the fruits of love, Untill hir dying daye will long Sir Chaucer's jests to prove. NOTES TO THE ETETH ACT. Act. I. Sc. IV. — Lamia's Mayde, Lamia. Mayde. Eorsooth, Mistris, your thraule stayes for you at home. Lamia. Were you borne in a myll curtole ? you prate so hye. Mayde. The gentelman that came the last day with Captain Erie. Lamia. What, young Hipolito ? Mayde. Even he. Lamia. Least he be gone, home hye, And Avill Dalia pop him in the neather roome. And keepe the falling doore close tyll I come ; And tell my thraule his fortune wyll not staye. Mayde. Wyll you ought else ? Lamia. Pratyng vixen, away ! Gallants, adue ; I venter must Hipolito to see. He is both young and welthy yet, the better spoyle for mee. {Note). My hassard for his sake I trowe, shall make him pray and He, he shall pranck me in my plumes, and deck mee brave and gay. Of curtisie, I praye you yet, if Phallax come this waye. Report, to put a case with him, heare Lamia long dyd stay. Act. II. Sc. I. — Cassandra, a Mayde, Cassandra. Aye mee, unhappy wenche, that I must live the day To see Andrugio tymeles dye, my brother and my stay. The onely meane, God wot, that should our house advaunce. Who in the hope of his good hap, must dy through wanton chance. O blynde affectes in love, whose tormentes none can teU, Yet wantons wyll byde fyre and frost, yea hassard death, nay hell, To taste thy sowre sweete frutes, digested styll with care ! Eowle fall thee. Love, thy lightning joyes hath blasted my welfare ; Thou fyerst aflPection fyrst within my brothers brest : Thou mad'st Polina graunt him (earst) even what he would request : Thou mad'st him crave and have a proofe of Venus meede, Eor which foule act he is adjudg'd eare long to lose his heade. The lawe is so severe in scourging fleshly sinne, As marriage to worke after mends doth seldome favor win. A law first made of zeale, but wrested much amis : Faults should be measured by desart, but all is one in this : The lecher fyerd with lust is punished no more Then he which fel through force of love, whose mariage salves his sor So that poore I dispayre of my Andrugio's lyfe, 0 would my dayes myght end with his, for to appease my stryfe ! Act. II. Sc. II. Andrugio in Prison. Cassandra. Andrugio. My good syster Cassandra. Cassandra. Who calletli Cassandra? Andrugio. Tliy wofuU brother Andrugio. Cassandra. Andrugio, 0 dismall day, what greefes doe mee assayle Condempned wretch, to see tliee here fast fettered now in jayle ! How haps thy wits were witched so, that knowing death was meede. Thou wouldest commit (to slay us both) this vile lascivious deede. 244 NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. Andnigio. 0 good Cassandra, leave to check, and chide me thraule therfore, If late repentaunce wrought me helpe, I would doe so no more. But out alas ! I wretch too late doe sorrowe my amys, Unles Lord Promos graunt me grace, in vayne is had-y-wist. AVherfore, sweete sister, whylst in hope my dampned lyfe yet were, Assaulte his hart in my behalfe with battering tyre of teares. If thou by sute doest save my lyfe, it both our joyes wiU be ; If not, it may suffice tliou soughtst to set thy brother free : Wherefore speede to proroge my dayes, to-morrowe else I dye. Cassandra. I wyll not fayle to pleade and praye to purchase the mercye ; Farewell a whyle ; God graunt me well to speede ! Andriigio. Syster, adew ; tyl thy retm-ne I lyve twene hope and dreede. Cassandra. Oh happy tyme ! see where Lord Promos comes. Now, tongue, addresse thy selfe my mind to wray : And yet, least haste worke waste, I hold it best In covert, for some advauntage, to stay. Act. II. Sc. III. Promos idtli the Shriefe, and their Officers. Promos. 'Tis strange to thinke what swarms of uiithrifts live Within this towne, by rapine, spoyle, and theft. That were it not that justice ofte them greeve. The just mans goods by ruflers should be reft. At this our syse are thirty e judgde to dye, Whose falles I see their fellowes smaUy feare. So that the way is, by severity. Such wicked weedes even by the rootes to teare. Wherefore, Shriefe, execute with speedy pace The dampned wiglites, to cutte of hope of grace. Shriefe. It shal be done. Cassandra to hirselfe. O cruell words, they make my hart to bleede : Now, now I must this dome seeke to revoke. Least grace come short when starved is the steede. She, hieeling, sj^eakes to Promos. Most mighty lord and worthy judge, thy judgement sharpe abate, Yaile thou thine eares to heare the plaint that A\Tetched I relate. Behold the wofuU syster here of poore Andrugio, AVhom though that lawe awardeth death, yet mercy do him show. Way his yong yeares, the force of love which forced his amis. Way, way that mariage works amends for what committed is. He hath defilde no nuptial bed, nor forced rape hath mov'd ; He fel through love, who never ment but wive the wight he lov'd : And wantons sure to keepe in awe these statutes first were made. Or none but lustfull leachers should with rygrous law be payd. And yet to adde intent thereto is faiTC from my pretence ; I sue with teares to wyn him grace that sorrows his offence. Wherefore herein, renowned lorde, justice with pitee payse, AVhicli two, in equaU ballance waide, to heaven your fame will raise. Frornos. Cassandra, leave of thy bootlesse sute, by law he hath bene tride ; Lawe founde his faulte, lawe judgde him death. NOTES TO THE FIFTH ACT. 245 Cassandra. Yet tliis maye be replide, That law a mischiefe oft permits to keepe due forme of lawe, That lawe small faultes, with greatest doomes, to keepe men styl in awe. Yet kings, or such as execute regall authoritie, If mends be made, may over-rule the force of lawe with mercie. Here is no wylful murder wrought which axetli blood againe ; Andrugio's faulte may valued be ; mariage wipes out his stayne. Promos. Faire dame, I see the naturall zeale thou bearest to Andrugio, And for thy sake (not his desart) this favour wyll I showe : I wyll repryve him yet a whyle, and on the matter pawse ; To-morrowe you shall lycence have afresh to pleade his cause. Shriefe, execute my chardge, but staye Andrugio, Untill that you in this behalfe more of my pleasure knowe. Shriefe. I wyll performe your wyU. Cassandra. O most worthy magistrate, myselfe thy thrall I binde, Even for this lytle lightning hope which at thy handes I finde. Now wyl I go and comfort him which hangs twixt death and life. [Exit. Promos. Happie is the man that injoyes the love of such a wife. I do protest hir modest wordes hath wrought in me amaze. Though she be faire, she is not deackt with garish shewes for gaze ; Hir bewtee lures, hir lookes cut off fond sutes with chast disdain ; 0 God, I feele a sodaine change that doth my freedome chayne ! What didst thou say? fie. Promos, fie ! of hir avoide the thought, And so I will ; my other cares wyll cure what love hath wrought. Come, awaye. [Exeunt. Act. 11. Sc. IV. Phallax, Promos Officer ; Gripax and Rapax, Promoters. Phallax. My trusty friendes, about your businesse straight. With symple showes your subtile meanings bayte : Promote all faults up into my office, Then turne me lose the offenders to fleece. Gripax. Tush, to finde lawe-breakers let me alone ; 1 have eyes will look into a mylstone. Phallax. God a mercy, Gripax. Bapax. And I am so sub ty 11- sighted I trowe. As I the very thoughts of men doo know. Gripax. I fayth, Rapax, what thought thy wife, when she, To lye with the preest by night stole from thee ? Bapax. Marry, she knew you and I were at square ; And least we fell to blowes, she did prepare To arme my head, to match thy horned browe. Gripax. Goe, and a knave with thee. Bapax. I stay for you. Phallax. No harme is done, here is but blow for blow ; Byrds of a fether best flye together : Then like partners about your market goe : Marrowes, adew : God send you fayre wether. Gripax. Fare you well ; for us take no care ; With us this brode speeche sildome breedeth square. ^ [Exeunt. Phallax. Marry, syr, wel fare an office, what some ever it be ; The very countenaunce is great, though slender be the fee. 246 NOTES TO THE EIETII ACT. I tlianke my good Lord Promos now, I am an officer made, In sooth more by hap then desart, in secret be it sayde. No force for that, each shyft for one, for Phallax will doo so ; AYell fare a head can take his tyme, noy watch for tyme, I trow. I smyle to thinke of my fellowes, how some brave it, some waight. And thinke reward there service just, with ofiFred shifts wy\ bayght ; When they (poore soules) in troth do falle a myle upon account. For flattery and fervent plesing are meanes to make men mount : I speak on proofe : Lord Promos I have pleased many a day, Yet am I neither learned, true, nor honest any way. What skyls for that ? by wit or wyle I have an office got. By force wherof every lycence, warrant, pattent, pasport, Leace, fyne, fee, et cetera, pas and repas through Phallax hands ; Disordred persons brybe me wel to escape from justice hands. And welthy churles for to promote, I have now set a worke. Such hungry lads as soone will smell where statute-breakers lurk ; And if they come within our grype, we meane to stripe them so, As (if they scape from open shame) their bagges with us shall goe. And trust me this, we officers of this mylde mould are wrought ; Agre whh us, and sure your shame by us shal not be sought. But soft a whyle, I see my Lord ; what makes him lowre so ? I wyll intrude into his sight, perhaps his greefe to know. Act. II. Sc. IV. — Phallax. Promos. Promos. Well mette, Phallax, I long have wysht to showe A cause to thee which none but I yet know. Phallax. Say on, my Lord ; a happy man M eare I, If any way your wish I could supply. Promos. Eaine would I speake, but oh, a chylling feare (The case is such) makes mee from speech forbeare. Phallax. Tliese wordes, my lord, whome ever have bene just, Now makes, me thinke, that you my truth mistrust. But cease suspect, my with yours shall gree. What so (or against whome) your dealing be. Promos. Against a wight of small account it is. And yet, I feare, I shall my purpose mys. Phallax. Eeare not, my Lorde, the olde proverbe doth saye, Eaynt harts dotli steale fap'c ladyes seld away. Promos. Eayre ladyes ! 0, no lady is my love. And yet she sure as coye as they t\t1 prove. Phallax. I thought as much, love did torment you so; But what is she that dare saye Promos noe ? Promos. Doe what one can, fyre wyll breake forth I see ; ]\Iy words unwares hath showen what greeveth me : My wound is such as love must be my leache, Which cure wyll bring my gravity in speeche. Eor what may be a folly of more note. Then for to see a man gray beard to dote ? Phallax. No, my lorde. Amor omnia vincit^ And Ovid sayth. Forma mimen hahet. And for to prove love's service seemes the wise. NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. 247 Set Salla mon and Sampson before your eyes ; Eor wyt and strength who wonne the cheefest prise, And both lyv'd by the lawes love did devise, Which proves in love a certaine godhed lyes : And Goddes rule yearely by wisdome from the skyes, Whose wyls (thinke I) are wrought best by the wise. Promos. Indeede divine I thinke loves working is, Erom reasons use in that my senses swarve ; In pleasure paine, in payne I fynde a blysse ; On woe I feede, in sight of foode I stearve : These strange effects by love are lodg'd in raee ; My thoughts are bound, yet I myselfe am free. Phallax. Well, my good Lord, I axe (with ])ardon sought) Who she may be that hath your thrauldome wrought. Pro?nos. _ The example is such as I sygh to showe ; Syster she is to dampned Andrugio. Phallax. All the better for you the game doth goe ; The proverbe sayth, that kyt wyll unto kinde : If this be true, this comfort then I fynde — Cassandra's flesh is as her brother's frayle ; Then wyll she stoupe (in cheefe) when lords assayle. Promos. The contrary (through feare) doth worke my payne, Eor in her face such modesty doth raigne. As cuttes of loving sutes with chaste disdayne. Phallax. What love wyll not, necessity shall gayne ; Her brother's lyfe will make her glad and fayne. Promos. What, is it best Andrugio free to set, Ere I am sure his syster's love to gette ? Phallax. My lovyng lord, your servaunt meanes not so ; But if you wyll, else where in secret goe : To worke your wyll, a shift I hope to showe. Promos. With ryght good wyll, for such my sicknes is. As I shall dye if her good will I mys. [Uxeunt. Act. 11. Sc. V. — The Hangman, loilh a greate many ropes abought his necJcc. The wynd is yl blowes no man's gaine, for cold I neede not care ; Here is nyne and twenty sutes of apparrell for my share : And some, berlady, very good, for so standeth the case. As neyther gentelman nor other lord Promos sheweth grace. But I marvell much, poore slaves, that they are hanged so soone ; They were wont to staye a day or two, now scarce an after-noone. All the better for the hangman, I pardons dreaded sore, Would cutters save whose clothes are good, I never fear'd the poore. Let me see, I must be dapper in this my facultie ; Heare are new ropes : how are my knots ? I faith, syr, slippery. At fast or loose, with my Giptian, I meane to have a cast ; Tenne to one I read his fortune by the marymas fast. Serg. Away, what a stur is this, to see men goe to hanging ? Hangman. Harke, God bwy ye : I must be gone, the prisners are a comniing. {Exit. 248 NOTES TO THE EIFTH ACT. Act. II. Sc. YI. — Sixe prisoners hounde tcith cords. Tico Hacksters, one A\'oman, one hjJce a Giptian, the rest poors Koges, a Preacher, with other Offijcers. They sing. With harte and voyce to thee, 0 Lorde, At latter gaspe, for grace we crie : Unto our siites, goode God, accorde, Which thus appeale to thy mercie. Forsake us not in this distresse, AVhicli unto thee our sinnes confesse ; Forsake us not in this distresse. Which unto thee our sinnes confesse. First Ilaclcster. Al sorts of men, beware by us whom present death assaults ; Looke in your conscience what you find, and sorow for your faults. Example take by our fresh harmes, see here the fruites of pride : I, for my part deserved death, long ere my theft was spide. 0 careles youth, lead, lead awrie with everie pleasing toy, Xote well my words, they are of woorth, the cause though my annoy. Shun to be pranckt in peacocks plumes for gaze which only are ; Hate, hate the dyce even as the divell ; of wanton dames beware. These, these wer they that suckt my welth ; what foloM-ed them in neede, 1 was intist by lawles men on theevish spoyles to feede. And, nusled once in wicked deedes, I feard not to ofFende, Fvom bad to worse and worst I fell, I would at leysure mende. But oh, presuming over much styll to escape in hope, ]\Iy faultes were found, and I adjudgde to totter in a rope : To which I go with these my mates, likewise for breach of lawes. For murder some, for theeverie some, and some for litle cause. Second Ilaclcster. Beware, deere friends, of quarelling, thirst spoile of no mans breath ; Blood axeth blood ; I sheeding blood untimelie catch my death. A IVoman. Maides and women, shun pride and sloth, the rootes of every vice ; My death ere long wil shew their ends : God grannt it make you wise ! A scoffing Catchpole. How now, Giptian? All a mort, knave, for want of company ? Be crustie, man : the hangman straight wil reade fortunes with thee. The Preacher. With this thy scoffing speach, good friend, offend him not; His faidts are scorged ; thine scape (perhaps) that do deserve his lot. A poore Roge. Jesus, save me ! I am cast for a purse with three lialfe pence. A churlish Officer. Dispatch, prating knave, and be hang'd, that we were jogging hence. Thejj leysurahlie depart synging ; the Preacher whispering some one or other of the Prisoners styll in the eare. They sing. Our secrete thoughts, thou, Christ, dost knowe, Whome the worlde doth hate in thrall ; Yet hope we that thou wilt not soe. On whome alone we thus do call. Forsake us not in this distresse. Which unto thee our sinnes confesse : Forsake us not, &c. NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. 249 Act III. Sc. I. — Promos alone. Promos. Do what I can, no reason cooles desire : The more I strive my fonde affectes to tame, The hotter (oh) I feele a burning fire AVithin my breast, vaine thoughts to forge and frame. 0 straying [sic pro strainge) effectes of bUnde affected love, From wisdomes pathes which doth astraye our wittes ; AYhich makes us haunt that which our harmes doth move, A sicknesse lyke the fever etticke fittes, Which shakes with colde when we do burne hke fire. Even so in Love we freese through chilling feare, When as our hartes doth frye with bote desire. What saide I ? lyke to etticke fittes ? nothing neare : In sowrest Love, some sweete is ever suckt : The lover findeth peace in wrangling strife. So that if paine were from his pleasure pluckt, There were no heaven like to the lover's life : But why stande I to pleade their joye or woe, And rest unsure of hir I wish to have ? 1 knowe not if Cassandra love, or noe : But yet admytte she graunt not what I crave, If I be nyce to hir brother lyfe to give : Hir brother's life too much wyll make her yeelde — A promise then to let hir brother lyve. Hath force inough to make her flie the fielde. Thus though sute fayle, necessitie shall wyn. Of lordlie rule the conquering power is such : But (oh sweete sight) see where she enters in : Both hope and dreade at once my harte doth tuch. Act hi. Sc. II. — Cassandra, Promos. Cassandra spealces to her self e. Cassandra. I see two thralles, sweete seemes a lytic joye. Eor fancies free Andrugio's breast hath scope : But least detract doth rayse a new annoye, I nowe will seeke to turne to happe his hope. See, as I wisht, Lord Promos is in place ; Nowe in my sute God graunt I maye finde grace. Sliee hieeling speahes to Fromos. Benowned lorde, whylst life in me doth last, In homage bondes I binde myselfe to thee ; And though I did thy goodnesse latelie taste. Yet once againe on knees I mercie seeke In his behalfe, that hanges twene death and life ; Who styll is preast if you the mendes do leeke. His lawles love to make his lawfull wife. Promos. Eaire dame, I wel have wayd thy sute, and wish to do thee good. But all in vaine, al things conclude to have thy brother's blood. The stricknes of the lawe condempnes an ignorant abuse, 250 NOTES TO THE EIFTH ACT. Then wvlfiill faultes are liardlie lielpt or cloked with excuse ; And -what maye be more wylfidl then a maide to violate? Cassandra. The force was smal when with hir wyl he, wretch, the conquest gate. Promos. Lawe ever at the worst doth conster evyl intent. Cassandra. And lawe even with the worst awardes them punishment ; And sith that rigorous lawe adjudg'd him to dye, Your glorie will he much the more in showing him mercie. The world will think how that you do hut graunt him grace on cause : And where cause is, there mercy should abate the force of lawes. Promos. Cassandra, in thy brother's halfe thou hast sayde what may be ; And for thy sake it is, if I doe set Andrugio free. Shart tale to make, thy beauty hath surprysed me with love, That, maugre wit, I tm-ne my thoughts as blynd affections move. And, quite subdude by Cupids might, neede makes mee sue for grace To thee, Cassandra, which doest holde my freedome in a lace. Yeelde to my will, and then commaund even what thou wilt of mee ; Thy brother's life, and all that else may with thy liking gree. Cassandra. And may it be, a judge himself the self same fault should use, Eor which he domes an others death ? O crime without excuse ! Renowned lorde, you use this speach (I hope) your thrall to trye. If otherwise, my brother's life so deare I will not bye. Promos. Faire dame, my outward lookes my inward thoughts bewray, If you mistrust, to search my harte, would God you had a kaye ! Cassandra. If that you love (as so you saye) the force of love you know. Which fealt, in conscience you should my brother favour show. Promos. In doubtfuU warre, one prisoner still doth set another free. Cassandra. What so warre seekes, love unto M arre contrary is you see. Hate fostreth warre, love cannot hate, then maye it covet force. Promos. The lover ofte sues to his foe, and lindeth no remorse. Then if he hap to have a helpe to w}'n his frowarde foe, Too kindle a foole I will him holde that lets such vantage goe. Cassandra. Well, to be short, my selfe wyll dye ere I my honor stayne ; You know my minde, leave off to tempt, your offers are in vaine. Promos. Bethink yourself at price inougli I ])urchase, sweet, your love ; Andrugio's life suffis'd alone your straungenes to remove ; The which I graunt, with any wealth that else you wyU require : Who buyeth love at such a rate, payes well for his desire. Cassandra. Ko, Promos, no ; honor never at value maye be solde ; Honor farre dearer is then life, which passeth price of golde. Promos. To buie this juell at the full, my wife I may thee make. Cassandra. For unsure hope, that peereles pearle I never will forsake. Promos. These sutes seemes strange at lirst, I see, wher modesty beares swav ; I therfore wil set down my wyll, and for hir answer staye. [To himself. Fayre Cassandra, thejuel of my joye, Howe so in showe my tale seemes straunge to thee, The same well waide, thou need'st not be so coye, Yet for to give thee respite to agree, I wyll two daies hope styll of thy consent ; Which if thou graunt (to cleare my clowdes of care) Cloth'd like a page (suspect for to prevent) L'nto my court, some night, sweet wenche, repaire. T}1 then, adue ; thou these my words in works perform'd shalt find. NOTES TO THE FIFTH ACT. 251 Cassandra. Earewel, my Lord, but in this sute you booties wast your wind. Cassandra ! 0 most unhappy, subject to everie woe, What tongue can tel, what thought conceive, what pen thy griefe can show ! Whom to scurge. Nature, heaven and earth, do heapes of thral ordain, Whose words in waste, whose works are lost, whose wishes are in vain. That which to others comfort yeelds, doth cause my hevy cheer, I meane, my beautie breedes my bale, which many hold so deere. I woidd to God that kinde else where bestowed had this blase, My vertues then had wrought regard, my shape now gives the gase. This forme so Promos tiers with love as wisdom cannot quench His bote desire, tyll he lust in Venus' seas hath drencht. At these icordes Ganio must he readie to speahe. Act III. Sc. III. — Ganio, Andrugio's ho^e. Cassandra. Ganio. Mistress Cassandra, my master longs to heare of your good speed. Cassandra. Poore Ganio, his death, alas ! fierce fortune hath decreed. Ganio. His death ! God forbyd all his hope should turne to such successe ; For God's sake, go and comfort him ; I sorrowe his distresse. Cassandra. I needes must go, although with heavy cheere. Ganio. Sir, your syster Cassandra is here. [^Eocit. Act III. Sc. IV. — Andrugio out of prison. Cassandra on the stage. Andrugio. My Cassandra, what newes ? good sister, showe. Cassandra. All thinges conclude thy death, Andrugio : Prepare thy selfe, to hope it ware in vaine. Andrugio. My death ! alas, what raysed this new disdayne ? Cassandra. Not justice zeale in wicked Promos sure. Andrugio. Sweete, show the cause I must this doome indure. Cassandra. If thou dost live, I must my honor lose. Thy raunsome is, to Promos fleshly wyll That I do yelde : than which I rather chose With torments sharpe my selfe he first should kyll. Thus am I bent : thou seest thy death at hand : O would my life would satisfie his yre, Cassandra then would cancell soone thy band. Andrugio. And may it be a judge of his account Can spot his minde with lawles love or lust ? But more, may he doome any fault with death, When in such faute he findes himselfe unjust ? Syster, that wise men love we often see. And where love rules, gainst thornes doth reason spurne ; But who so loves, if he rejected be. His passing love to peevish hate will turne. Deare sister, then note how my fortune stands : That Promos love, the like is oft in use ; And sith he crave this kindnesse at your hands. Think this, if you his pleasure do refuse, I, in his rage (poor wretch) shall sing Peccavi. Here are two evyls, the best harde to digest ; V 252 NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. But whereas things are driven unto necessity, There are we byd, of both evyls choose the least. Cassandra. And of these evils, the least, I hold, is death. To shun whose dart we can no meane devise ; Yet honor Ijtcs when death hath done his worst : Tims fame then lyfe is of farre more emprise. Andnigio. Nay, Cassandra, if thou thy selfe submyt, To save my life, to Promos fleashly wyll, Justice ^\yll say thou dost no cryme commit, Eor in forst faultes is no intent of yll. Cassandra. How so th' intent is construed in offence. The proverbe saies that tenne good turnes lye dead. And one yll deede tenne tymes beyond pretence, By envious tongues, report abrode doth spread. Andrugio, so my fame shall vallewed bee ; Dispite will blase my crime, but not the cause ; And thus, although I fayne would set thee free, Poore wench, I feare the grype of slaunder's pawes. Andrugio. Nay, sweete sister, more slaunder would infame Your spotles lyfe to reave yom* brother's breath, When you have powre for to enlarge the same ; Once in your handes doth lye my lyfe and death. Way that I am the selfe same flesh you are ; Thinke, I once gone, our house will goe to wrack : Knowe, forced faultes for slaunder neede not care ; Looke you for blame, if I quaile through your lack. Consider well my great extremitie ; If other wise this doome I could revoke, I would not spare for any jebardye To free thee, wench, from this same heavy^ yoke : But ah, I see else no way saves my life, And yet his hope may further thy consent ; He sayde, he maye percase make thee his wife, And 'tis likelie he cannot be content With one night's joye : if love he after seekes ; And I discharg'd, if thou aloofe then be, Before he lose thy selfe that so he leekes. No dought but he to marryage wyll agree. Cassandra. And shall I sticke to stoupe to Promos wyll, Since my brother injoyeth lyfe thereby? No, although it doth my credit kyll. Ere that she [sic) should, my selfe would chuse to dye. My Andrugio, take comfort in distresse, Cassandra is wonne thy raunsome great to paye ; Such care she hath thy thraldome to releace. As she consentes her honor for to slay. Farewell, I must my virgins weedes forsake. And, lyke a page, to Promos lewde repayre. [^Exif. Andnigio. My good sister, to God I thee betake. To whome I pray that comforte change thy care. NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. 253 Act III. Sc. V. — Phallax alone. Phallax. Tis more tlien straunge to see Lord Promos plight ; He fryskes abought as byrdes ware in his breech. Even now he seemes (through hojDe) to taste delight ; And straight (through feare) where he clawes, it doth not ytch. He museth now, strayght wayes the man doth sing ; (A sight, in sooth, unseemely for his age) He longing lookes when any newes shal bring. To speake with him, without there waytes a page. 0 worthy wit (fyt for a judges head) Unto a man to chaunge a shiftles mayde ! Wyncke not on me ; twas his and not my deede : His, nay his rule, this metamorphos made — But, Holla, tongue, no more of tliis, I pray : ; Non bonus est ludere cum Sanctis. The quietest and the thryftiest course, they say, Is not to checke, but prayse great mens amys. 1 finde it true ; for soothing Promos vaine. None lyke my selfe is lykte in his conceyte : Whyle favour last, then good, I fish for gaine (For grace wyll not byte alwayes at my bayte) And, as I wish, at liande good fortune see. Here corns Hapax and Gripax, but what's this ? As good as fayre handsell God graunt it bee : The knaves bring a woman coram nobis. Act III. Sc. YI. — Phallax, Gripax, Rapax, a Bedell, and one with a hruicne- hyll bring in Lamia and Eosko her man. Lamia. Teare not my clothes, my friends, they cost more then you are aware. Bedell. Tush, soon you shal have a blew gown ; for these take you no care. RosJw. If she tooke thy offer, poore knave, thy wife w^ould starve with cold. Gripax. Well, syr, whipping shall keepe you warme. Phallax. What, meanes these knaves to scolde ? Bapax. Maister Phallax, we finde you in good time ; A woman here we have brought afore you ; One to be chargde with many a wanton crime. Which tryall will, with proofe inougli, finde true : A knave of hirs we have stayed likewise, Both to be us'd as you shall us advise. Bhallax. What call you hir name ? Bapax. Lamia. Phallax. Eayre dame, hereto what do you saye ? Lamia. WorshipfuU sir, my selfe I happy reake With patience that my aunswer you will heare. These naughtie men these wordes on mallice speake, And for this cause yll wyll to me they beare. I scornde to keepe their mindes with money playe ; I meane to keepe my life from open shame ; Yea, if I liv'd as lewdlie as they saye, But I that knewe my selfe unworthy blame, NOTES TO THE FIFTH ACT. Shrunk not to come unto my triall nowe : My talc is toklc ; concep e as lyketli you. Phallajc. My friends, what proofe have you against this dame ? Speake on sure ground, least that you reape the shame : TJie wrong is great, and craves great recompence, To touch her honest name, without offence. Gripax. All Julio, s}t, doth ryng of her lewd Byll. Indeede, she is knowne for an ydle huswife. Rosl-o. He lyes ; she is occupied day and night. Pliallax. To sweare against her is there any Avight ? Rapax. No, not present ; but if you do detayne her, There wil be found by oth some that wyll stayne her. FliuUax. I see she is then on suspition stayde, AVhose faultes to search, upon my charge is layde. From charge of her I therfore will set you free ; My selfe will search her faultes, if any be. A Gods name, you may depart ! 2 or 3 spealce. God bwy, syr. Gripax. In such shares as this henceforth I will begin ; For all is his, in his clawes, that commeth in. [^Exeimt. P/iallax. Fayre Lamia, since that we are alone, I plainely wyll discourse to you my minde : I tliinke you not to be so chast a one, As that your lyfe this favor ought to fynde. No force for that, since that you scot free goe, Unpunished whose life is judged yll ; Yet thinke (through love) this grace the judge doth show, And love with love ought to be answered styll. Lamia. Indeede, I graunt (although I could reprove Their lewde complayntes with goodnesse of my lyfe) Your curtesy your detter doth me prove, In that you tooke my honest fame in stryfe. My aunswere for discharge of their report : For which good turne I at your pleasure rest, To worke amends in any honest sort. Phallax. Away with honesty; your answeare then, in sooth, Fyts me as jumpe as a pudding a friar's mouth. Bosl'o. He is a craftie childe ; dally, but do not. Lamia. Tush, I warrant thee, I am not so wliot. 1 our wordes are too harde, sir, for me to conster. Pliallax. Then to be short, your rare bewtie my hart hath wounded so. As (save your love become my leach) I sure shall die with woe. Lamia. I see no signe of death in your face to appeare ; Tis but some usuall qualme you have, pitifull dames to feare. Phallax. Faire Lamia, trust me I faine not ; betimes bestow som grace. Lamia. A\ ell, I admit it so ; onelie to argue in your case, I am maried ; so that to set your love on me, were vaine. Phallax. It suffisetli me that I may your secrete friend remaine. Posko. A holie hoode makes not a frier devoute. He Mill playe at small game, or he sitte out. Lamia. Though for pleasure, or to prove me, these profers you do move, You are to wise to hassarde life upon my yeelding love. The man is painde with present death, that useth wanton pleasure. NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. 255 PJiallax. To scape such paine, wise men these joyes without suspect can measure. Eurthermore, I have ben (my girle) a lawier to too long, If at a pinche I cannot wrest the law from right to wrong. Lamia. If lawe you do professe, I gladlie crave In a cause or two your advise to have. PJiallax. To resolve you, you shall commaunde my skyll ; Wherfore like friendes lets common in good wyll. Lamia. You are a merie man, but leave to jeast; To morrowe night, if you will be my geast At my poore house, you shall my causes knowe, Eor good cause, which I meane not here to showe. Phallax. Willinglie, and for that haste calles me hence, My sute tyll then shall remaine in suspence : Earewell, clyent ; to morrowe looke for me. [ Exit. Lamia. Your good welcome, sir, your best cheere will be. Bosko. I tolde you earst the nature of Phallax, Money or faire women workes him as waxe. And yet I must commend your sober cheere. You told your tale, as if a saint you were. Lamia. Well (in secreete be it sayde) how so I seemd divine, I feared once a blew gowne would have bene my shrine. But nowe that paine is flead, and pleasure keepes his holde, I knowe that Phallax will my fame hence forth upliolde : To entertaine which geast I will some dayntie cheere prepare ; Yet ere I go, in pleasant song, I meane to purge my care. The Song. — Adue, poore care, adue, Go cloye some helples wretche ; My life, to make me rue, Thy forces do not stretclie. Thy harbor is the liarte, Whom wrong hath wrapt in woe ; But wrong doth take my parte AYith cloke of right in shoe. My faultes inquirie scape, At them the judges winke ; Those for my fall that gape, To showe my lewdnesse shrinke. Then, silly care, go packe, Thou art no geast for me ; I have, and have no lacke. And lacke is shrowde for thee. [Krcuz/f. Act III. Sc. VII. — Cassandra, apparelled like a Page. Cassandra. Unhappy wretche, I blush my selfe to see Apparelled thus monstrous to my kinde : But oh, my weedes wyll with my fault agree. When I have pleasde lewde Promos fleshlie minde. What shall I do ? go proffer what he sought ? Or on more sute shall I give my consent ? The best is sure, since this must needes be wrought, I go, and showe neede makes me to his bent. KOTES TO THE EIFTH ACT. ^ly fluddcs of teares, from true intent whicli floe, ]\lay qucnclie his lust or ope his mufled eyen To see that I deserve to be his wife, Tliough now constrainde to be his concubine. !But so or no, I must the venter give : No daunger feares the wight prickt foorth by neede : And thus, lyke one more glad to dye then lyve, I forewarde set ; God graunt me well to speede. Act IY. Sc. L — Dalia, Lamia's Maide, going to market. Bal'ux. With my mistresse the worlde is chaunged well, She fearde of late of whipping clieere to smell ; And nowe again e both gallant, fresh and gaye. Who in Julio flauntes it out lyke Lamia ? A luckie friende (yea, one that beareth swaye) Is now become a proppe of such a staye To hir good name, as who is he dare saye That Lamia doth offende nowe any waye ? This her good friende wyll be hir geast this night ; And that he maye in his welcome delyght. To market I in haste am sent to buye The best cheare that I fasten on my eye. Act IV. Sc. 11. — Promos alone. Promos. By proofe I finde no reason cooles desire. Cassandraes sute suifised to remove ]\Iy lewde request ; but, contrarie, the fire llir teares inflamd of lust and filthy love. And having thus the conquest in my handes No jn'ayer servde to Avorke restraint in mee, l^ut needes I would untye the precious bandes Of this fayre dames spotles virginitye. The spoyle was sweete, and wonne even as I Avoulde ; And yet ungainde tyll I had given my trothe To marie hir, and that hir brother shoulde Be free from death ; all which I bounde with oathe. It resteth now (unlesse I wrong hir much) I keepe my vowe : and shall Andrugio lyve ? Such grace would me with uninditferencie tuch, To pardon him that dyd commit a rape. To set him free, I to Cassandra sware. But no man else is privie to the same ; And rage of Love for thousande oatlies nyll spare, ^lore then are kept when gotten is the game. Well, what I sayde, then lover like I sayde. Now reason sayes, unto thy credite looke ; And having well the circumstaunces wayde, I finde I must uns\^"eare the oathe I tooke. But double wrong I so should do Cassandra-; [Exit. [Kvit. NOTES TO THE FIFTH ACT. 25 No force for that, my might commaundeth right j Hir privie maime hir open cryes will staye, Or if not so, my frowning will hir fright : And thus shall rule conceale my filthy deede. Nowe foorthwith I wyll to the gayler sende. That secretelie Andrugio he behead, Whose head he shall with these same wordes commend : — To Cassandra, as Promos promist thee. From prison, loe, he sendes thy brother free. Act. IY. Sc. III. — Cassandra. Cassandra. Fayne would I, wretch, conceale the spoyle of my virginity, But 0, my gilt doth make mee blush chast virgins here to see. I, monster now, no mayde nor wyfe, have stoupte to Promos lust ; The cause was, nether sute nor teares could quench his wanton thurst. What cloke wyl scuse my crime ? my selfe my conscience doth accuse : And shall Cassandra now be termed, in common speeche, a stewes ? Shall she, whose vertues bare the bell, be calld a vicious dame ? 0 cruell death, nay hell, to her that was constraynd to shame. Alas ! few wyll give foorth, I fynd, to save my brothers lyfe. But fayntly I through Promos othes doo hope to be his wife. For lovers feare not how they sweare to wyn a lady fayre. And having wonne what they did wish, for othes nor lady care : But to be just or no, I joy Andrugio yet shall lyve ; — But ah ! I see a sight that doth my hart asunder ryve. Act. IV. Sc. IV. — Gaylar tdth a dead mans head in a charger. Cassandra. Gayler. This present wil be galle I know to fayre Cassandra, Yet if she knewe as much as I, most swete I dare well say. In good tyme see where she doth come to whome my arrand is. Cassandra. Alas, his hasty pace to me showes somewhat is amys. Gayler. Fayre Cassandra, my Lord Promos commends him unto thee, To keepe his word, who sayes from prison he sends thy brother free. Cassandra. Is my Andrugio done to death ? fye, fye, O faythles trust ! Gayler. Be quiet, lady; law found his fault, then was his judgment just. Cassandra. Wei, my good friend, show Promos this, since law hath don th deed, 1 thank him yet he would vouchsaf on me my brother's head ; Loe this is all : now geve me leave to rew his losse alone. Gayler. I wyll performe your will, and wish you cease your mone. Cassandra. Farewell. Gayler. I sure had showen what I had done, her teares I pittied so, But til at I wayde that women syld do dye with greefe and woe : And it behoves me to be secret, or else my necke-verse cun : AVell, now to pack my dead man hence it is hye tyme I run. Cassandra. Is he past sight ? then have I tyme to wayle my woes alone : Andrugio, let mee kis thy lippes yet ere I fall to mone. O would that I could wast to teares to wash this bloody face. Which fortune farre beyond desart hath followed with disgrace. III. 33 258 NOTES TO THE FIETII ACT. O Promos, falce and most unkinde, both spoyld of love and ruth ! O Promos, thou dost wound my hart to thinke on thy untruth ! AVliose plyghted fayth is tournd to frawd, and words to works unjust ! AVliy doe I lyve, unhappy wench, syth treason quites my trust ? 0 death, devorse me wretch at once from this same worklly lyfe ! But why do I not slay myselfe for to appease this stryfe ? Perhaps within this wombe of myne another Promos is ; 1 so by death slial be avengd of him in murthriug his ; And ere I am assured that I have revengde tliis deede, Shall I dispatch my lothed life ? that hast weare more than speede. So Promos would triumphe that none his tiranny should know ; No, no, this wicked fact of his so slightly shall not goe. The King is just and mercyfuU, he doth both heare and see. See mens desarts, heare their complaynts to judge with equity. My wofuU case with speede I wyll unto his grace addresse, And from the &st unto the last the truth I wyll confesse. So Promos, thou by that same lawe shalt lose thy hated breth, Through breach wherof thou didst condemne Andrugio unto death. So doing yet, the world will say I broke Diana's lawes : But Nvhat of that ? no shame is myne, when truth hath showne my cause. I am resolved the King shall knowe of Promos injury; Yet ere I go, my brother's head I wyll ingraved see. [Ki Act. IY. Sc. Y. — Gavler. Andrugio. Gayler. Andrugio, as you love om- lives, forthwith post you away : Eor Gods sake, to no lyving friend your safety yet bewraye ; The proverbe sayth, two may keepe counsell, if that one be gone. Andrugio. Assure thy self, most faithful friend, I wyl be knowne to none. To none alas ! I see my scape yeeldes mee but small releefe ; Cassandra and Polina wyll destroye themselves witli greefe, Tiirough thought that I am dead : they dead, to live what helpeth me ? Gaijler. Leave of these plaints of smal availe, thank God that you are free ; Eor God it was within my mind that did your safety move. And that same God no doubt wyl worke for your and their behove. Andrugio. ]\Iost faithfull friend, I hope that God wyl worke as you do say, And therfore to some place unknowne I Avyl my selfe convaye. Gayler, farewell : for thy good deede I must remayne thy debter ; In meane whyle yet receyve this gyft, tyll fortune sends a better. Gayler. God bwy, syr, but kepe your mony, your need you do not know. Andrugio. I pas not now for fortuns threats, yea though hir force she show, And therfore styck not to receyve this sraale reward in part. Gaylar. I wyll not sure such proffers leave ; tys time you doe depart, Andrugio. Since so thou Milt, I wyl be gone : adue tyl fortune smile. \^Ei Gayler. Syr, fare you wel, I wyl not fayle to pray for you the while. Well, I am glad that I have sent him gone, Eor, by my faytli, I In 'd in perlous feare : And yet, God wot, to see his bytter mone When he should dye, would force a man forbeare Erom harming him, if pitty might beare sway. But see how God hatli wrouglit for his safety : A dead man's head, that suffered th'other day, NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. 259 Makes him thought dead throughout the citie. Such a just, good, and righteous God is he, AUhough a whyle he let the Avicked raygne. Yet he releeves the wretch in misery ; And in his pryde he throwes the tyraunt downe. I use these wordes upon this onely thought. That Promos long his rod cannot escape, Who hath in thought a wylfull murder wrought, Who hath in act perform'd a wicked rape. Gods wyll be done, who well Andrugio speede ; Once well, I hope to heare of his good lucke ; Eor, God, thou knowest my conscience dyd this deede. And no desire of any worldly muck. Act. IV. Sc. VI. — Dalia from market. Balia. In good sweete sooth, I feare I shal be shent. It is so long since I to market went ; But trust me, wyld fowle are such costly geare. Specially woodcocks out of reason deare. That this houre I have the market bett, To drive a bargayne to my most profyt ; And in the end, I chaunst to light on one Hyt me as pat as a pudding Pope Jone. Other market maydes pay downe for their meate. But that I have bought on my score is set. Well fare credit, when mony runneth low. Marry, yet butchers the which do credit so (As much good meate as they kyll) may perchaunce Be glad and fayne at heryng cobs to daunce. What force I that ? every man shyft for one ; For if I starve, let none my fortune mone. Shefaynes to goe out. Act. IV. Sc. VIL— Grimball, Dalia; eijther of them a Jjashet. Grimhall. Softe, Dalia ; a woorde with you, I praye. Balia. What, friend Grimbal ; welcome as I maye saye. Grimhall. Sayst thou me so ? then kysse me for acquaintaunce. Dalia. If I lyke your manhoode, I may do so perchaunce, Shefaynes to looJce in his basket. Grimhall. Bate me an ase, quoth Boulton : Tush, your minde I know : Ah, syr, you would, belike, let my cocke sparrowes goe. Balia. I warrant thee, Grimball. \_She takes out a white pudding. Grimhall. Laye off handes, Dalia : You powte me, if that you got my pudding awaye. Balia. Nay good sweete honny Grimball, this pudding give me. Grimhall. Iche were as good geete hir, for she wyll hate, I see ; Well, myn own good harte roote, I freelie give thee this, Upon condition that thou give me a kys. Balia. Nay, but first wash your lippes with sweete water ) 0u shall. 260 NOTES TO TKE EIETH ACT. Gr'imhall. Why, ycli was lyte now for my pudding, hony sweet Grimbal. Well, Dalia, you will iloute so long, tyll (though I saye) With kindnesse you wyll cast a proper handsome man away: Wlierfore, soote conny, even a little spurte. Dalia. Laye off handes, sir. Grinihall. Good, do not byte, for ycli meane thee no liurte : Come olf, pyggesnie, prefarre me not a jote. Dalia. AVhat would the good foole have ? Griniball. Why you M'oot whote. Hearke in your eare. Dalia. You shall conimaunde, so proper a man ye are, That for your sake I wyll not sticke to ware A blew cassocke during my lyfe forsoothe : Mary, for my sake, I woulde be verie lothe So goodlie a handsome man should lose his head. Grinihall. Xay, for my head, care not a tinker's torde ! For so God judge me, and at one bare worde, Yle lose my death, yea, and my great browne cowe, I love you so filthilie, law ye nowe. Dalia. Thou sayest valiantlie, now sing as well too. And thou shalt quicklie knowe what I meane to doo. Griniball. Yes, by Gogs foote, to pleasure thee, ych shall Both syng, s])ring, fight and playe the dewle and all. Dalia. 0 lustilie. \The Song. Grinihall. Come smack me, come smack me ; I long for a smouch. Dalia. Go pack thee, go pack thee, thou filthie fine slouch ! Grinihall. Leard, howe I love thee. Dalia. This cannot move mee. Grimhall. AYhy, pretie pygsney, my hart, and my honny. Dalia. Because, goodinan Hogs-face, you woe without mony. Grinihall. I lacke mony, chy graunt. Dalia. Then, Grimball, avaunt ! Grimhall. Cham yong, sweete hart, and feate ; come kysse me for love. Dalia. Crokeshanke, your jowle is to great such lyking to move. Grimhall. AYhat meane you by this ? Dalia. To leave thee, by Gys. Grimhall. Eirst smack me, first smack ; I dye for a smouch. Dalia. Go pack thee, go pack thee, thou filthie fine slouch ! [Exit. Grimhall. Dalia, arte thou gone ? what, wolt serve me soe ? 0 God, cham readie to raye myselfe for woe. Be valiaunt, Grimball ; kyl thy selfe, man. Nay, bum ladie, I will not, by Saint Anne. Ich have hearde my great gransier saye, Maide will saye naye, and take it ; and so she maye. And thcrfore chyll to Mistresse Lamia, With these puddings and cock sparowes by and by; And in the darke againe ych will hir trye. Act. V. Sc. I. — Phallax alone. Phallace. I marvell much Mdiat worketh so my Lord Promos unrest ; He fares as if a thousand devils were gnawing in his brest. Til ere is sure some worme of griefe that doth his conscience nip, NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. 261 Eor since Andrugio lost his head, he hath hung- downe the Hppe : And truth to say, his fault is such as weU may greve his mynd. The devill himselfe could not have usde a practise more unkind. This is once, I love a woman, for my life, as well as he. But (fayre dames) with her that loves mee, I deale weU with, trust mee. Well, leave I now my Lord Promos his owne deeds to aunswere : Lamia, I know, lookes, and double lookes, when I come to supper : I thought as much : see, to seeke mee heare corns her aple-squier. Act. V. Sc. II.— Rosko, Phallax. Bosho. O that I could find Master Phallax ; the meate burnes at the fire. And, by your leave, Andrugio's death doth make my mistris sweate. Phallax. How now, Eosko ? Eosko. 1st you, syr ? my mistris doth intreate That with all speede your worship will come away to supper ; The meate and all is ready to set upon the horde, syr. Fhallax. Gramercy for thy paynes ; I was even comming to her. BosJco. You are the welcomst man alyve to her I know. And, trust mee, at your commaundement remayneth poore Rosko. Phallax. It is honestly sayd, but noAV tell mee What quality hast, that I may use thee. BosJco. I am a harbour, and when you please, syr, Call (and spare not) for a cast of rose water. Phallax. But heare me, canst thou heale a greene wound well ? RosJco. Yea, greene and ould. Phallax. Then thy best were to dwel In some usuall place or streete, where through frayes Thou mayst be set a worke with wounds allwayes. Posko. I thanke my mistris, I have my hands full. To trym gentelmen of her acquayntaunce ; And I trust, syr, that if your worship chaunce To have neede of my helpe, I shall earne your mony Afore an other. Phallax. That thou shalt truly. But, syrra, where dwels Lamia? RosltO. Even heare, syr ; enter I pray. Phallax. That I sure, if that my way be cleare. Bosko. Yes, sir, her doores be open all the yeare. [Hxeimf. AcT.V. Sc. III. — Polina, the mayde that Andrugio lovd, m a blew gowne. Polina. Polina curst, what dame alyve hath cause of griefe lyke thee. Who (wonne by love) hastyeeld the spoyle of thy virginity ? And he for to repayre thy fame, to marry thee that vowde. Is done to death for first offence, the second mends not lowde. Great shame redounds to thee, 0 love, in leaving us in thrall; Andrugio and Polina both, in honoryng thee did falle. Thou so dydstwytch our wits, as we from reason strayed quight; Provockt by thee we dyd refuse no vauntage of delight. Delight ! what did I say ? nay death, by rash and fowle abuse ; 202 NOTES TO THE EIETII ACT. Alas! I shame to tell thus much, though love doe worke excuse. So that (fayre dames) from such consent, my accydents of harme Forewarncth you to keepe aloofe, though love your harts do arme. But ah ! Polina, whether runnes thy words into advise, When others harmes, inforst by love, could never make the wise. The cause is plaine, for that in love no reason stands in steade. And reason is the only meane, that others harmes we dreade. Then, that the world hereafter may to love inferre my yll, Andrugios tombe with dayly teares Polina worship wyll : And furthermore I vowde, M hylst life in me doth foster breth. No one shall vaunt of conquered love by my Andrugios death. These shameful weedes which forst I were, that men my fault may know, AVhilst that I live shall show I morne for my Andrugio. I wyll not byde the sharpe assaultes from sugred words ysent, I wyll not trust to careles otlies which often wyn consent : I wyll cut off occasions all wliich hope of myrth may move ; "With ceaseles teares yle qucncli each cause that kindletli coles of love : And thus tyl death, Polina wyll estraunge her selfe from joy, Andrugio, to reward thy love which dyd thy life destroy. \^Exlt. Act. V. Sc. IV. — Eosko alone. EosJco. A, syr, in fayth, the case is altred quiglit ; My mistris late that lived in wretched plight Byds care adue and every cause of woe. The feare is fled that made her sorrow so. Master Phallax so underprops her fame. As none for lyfe dare now her lewdnes blame. I feare (nay hope) she hath bewicht him so, As haulfe his brybes unto her share will goe : No force for that ; who others doth deceyve. Deserves himselfe lyke measure to receyve. AVell, leave I Lamia, for herselfe to pray Better then I can shewe who knowes the way. It stands me on for my poore selfe to shyfte, And I have founde a liel})e at a dead lyfte. My ould friende Grimball's puree with pence is full. And if I empty it not, Dalia wull. The slavering foole, what he can rap and rend (He loves her so) upon the fylth wyll spend : But bye your leave, yle barre her of this match. My net and all is set the foole to catch. Forsooth, before his amorous sute he move. He must be trim'd to make her more to love. And in good sooth the world shal hardly fall, But that he shal be washt, pould, shavd and all. And see the luck, the foole is fast I know, In that with Eowke he doth so sadly goe. Act. Y. Sc. Y. Grymball, Eowke, Eosko. Grymhall. God bores, as sayst, when somewhat handsome ch'am, I fayth, she wyll come off for very shame. NOTES TO THE FIFTH ACT. 2C3 Bowhe. Yea, without doubt, for I sweare by Saynt Anne, My selfe loves you, you are so cleane a young man. Grimhall. Nay, thou woult say so, when my face is fayre washt. BosJvO. Good luck, a Gods name, the wodcocke is masht. Bowhe . And who barbes ye, Grimball ? Grimhall. A dapper knave, one Eosko. BosJco. Well, letherface ; we shall have you, asse, ere you goe. Bowhe. I know him not : is he a deaft barber ? Grimhall. O yea, why, he is Mistris Lamia's powler : And looke, syrra, yen is the lyttel knave. How dost, Rosko? Bosho. Whope, my eye sight God save ! What, ould Grimball ! welcome, sit you downe heare. Eoye ! Boy. Anon. Bosho. Bay leaves in warme water, quick, bring cleane geare. Boy. Strayght. Boiche. As thou saydst, Grymball, this is a feate knave indeede. Bosho. How say', syr ? oyntments for a scab do you neede ? Bowhe. Scab ! scurvy Jack ! He set you a worke, syr. Grimhall. Nay, Gogs foote, good nowe, no more of this stur. Boiche. I faith, barber, I wyll pyck your teeth straight. Bosho. Nay, to pick my purse I feare thou dost wayght. Bowhe. Yea, Gogs hart. Grymhall. Nay, Gogs foote. Bosho. Nowe, come, Euffen. Grimhall. Leave, if you be men ; Heare ye me now : be friendes, and, by my trothe. Chill spende a whole quarte of ale on you bothe. Bosho. Well, Masse Grimball, I lytle thought I wus. You woulde a brought a knave to use mee thus. Grimhall. Why, knowest him not? why, it is lustie Eowke. Bosho. A strong theefe, I warrant him, by his looke. Boiohe. Go to, no more, barber, least copper you catch. Grimhall. What, wilt give thy nose awaye ? beware that match. For chy see no copper unlest be tlieare. Boy. ]\Iaster, here is delicate water and cleane geare. \^Boy brings water. Eivit. Bosho. Well, to quiet my house, and for Grimball's sake. If it pleaseth you as friendes, we liandes will shake. Grimball. I, I, do so. Bowhe. And for his sake I agree. Grimhall. Well then, that we may drinke, straight wayes wash mee. Bosho. Good syr, here's water as sweete as a rose. Now whyles I wash, your eyes harde you must close. Grimhall. Thus? B'jsho. Harder yet. Grimhall. O, thus. Bosho. Yea, marry, so. Howe, syrra, you knowe what you have to doe. Rowke cuttes Grimball's purse. Bosho. AYinke harde, Grimball. Grimhall. Yes, yes, I shall. Boiohe. Heare's the toothpick and all. \^Exit 264 NOTES TO THE EIFTH ACT. RosJco. Departc, then, tyll I call. Yerie well, syr ; your face is gayly cleane : A\'ere your teeth nowe pickt, you maye kisse a queane. Grimhall. Sayst thou mee so ? Good nowe, dispatch and awaye I even fyssel untyll I smouch Dalia. MosJco. 0 doo you so ? I am right glad you tell : I else had thought, tad bene your teethe dyd smell. Grimhall. 0 Lorde, gogs foote, you picke me to the quicke. RosJco. Quiet yourselfe : your teeth are furred thicke. Grimhall. 0, oh ! no more : O God, I spattell blood. BosJco. I have done : s])yt out ; this doth you much good. Boye Boy. Anon. Rosl'O. Bring the drinke in the porringer, To gargalis his teeth. Boij. It is here, syr. Rosl'O. Wash your teeth with this, good maister Grimhall. Grimhall. I am poysoned ; ah, it is bytter gall. Rosko. Eate these comfyts, to sweeten your mouth with all. Grimhall. Yea, mary, syr, these are gay sugred geare. Rosl'O. Their sweetnesse straight wyll make you stinke I feare. Grimhall. Well nowe, wliat must I paye, that chy were gone. Rosl-o. What you vryW. Grimhall. Sayst me so ? 0 cham undone. Rosl'O. Howe nowe, Grimhall ? Grimhall. O Leard, my purse is cutte. Rosl'O. When ? where ? Grimhall. Nowe, here. Rosl'O. Boye, let the doore be shutte : If it be here, we wyU straight waves see. Where's he that came with you ? Grimhall. I can not teU. Bosl'o. What is hee ? Grimhall. I knowe not. Rosl'O. AYhere doth he dwell ? Grimhall. 0 Leard, I ken not 1. Rosl'O. You have done well : Tliis knave, your pence in his pocket hath purst : Let's secke him out. Grimhall. Nay hearke, I must neades first. O Leard, Learde, cham sicke : my belly akes too too. Rosl-o. Thou lookst yll : well, yle tell thee what to doo. Since thou art so sicke, straight wayes get thee home, To finde this Jacke my selfe abroade wyU rome : The rather, for that he playde the knave with mee. Grimhall. Cham sicke in deede, and therfore ych thanke thee. Rosl'O. I see sometime the blinde man hits a crowe ; He maye thanke me that he is plagued soe. Grimhall. Well, mcII, Dalia, the love ych bare to thee Hath made me sicke, and pickt my purse from mee. Rosl'O. A, is he gone ? a foole company him : In good sooth, sir, this match fadged trim. Well, I wyll trudge to find my fellewe Eowke, To share the price that my devise hath tooke. NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. 265 Act. V. Sc. VI. — Cassandra in hlache. Cassandra. The heavy chardge that Nature byndes me to I have perform'd ; ingrav'd my brother is : I woulde to God (to ease my ceaseles woo) My wretched bones intombed were with his ; But O, in vaine this bootelesse wish I use, I, poore I, must lyve in sorrowe joynde Avith shame. And shall he lyve that dyd us both abuse ? And quench, through rule, the coles of just revenge? 0 no : I wyll nowe hye me to the King, To wdiom I wyll recount my wretched state ; Lewde Promos rape, my brother's death, and all : And (though with shame I maye this tale relate) To proove that force enforced me to fall, When I have showne Lorde Promos fowle misdeedes, This knife foorthwith shall ende my woe and shame : My gored harte which at his feete then bleedes, To scorge his faultes, the Kyng wyll more inflame. In deedes to doo that I in woordes pretende, 1 nowe advise my journey to the King : Yet ere I go, as swans sing at their ende, In solemne song I meane my kneU to ryng. Cassandraes Song. Sith fortune thwart doth crosse my joyes with care, Sith that my blisse is chaungde to bale by fate ; Sith frowarde chaunce my dayes in woe doth weare, Sith I, alas, must mone without a mate ; I wretch have vowde to sing both daye and night ; 0 sorrowe, slaye all motions of delight ! Come, grieslie griefe, torment this harte of mine, Come, deepe dispaire, and stoppe my loathed breath ; Come, wretched woe, my thought of hope to pine, Come, crueU care, preferre my sute to death : Death, ende my wo, which sing both daye and night; 0 sorrowe, slaye all motions of delight ! [ Exit. Finis. — G.W. The Seconde Part of the famous Historic of Promos and Cassandra: set forth in a Comicall Discourse. Bg George Whetstone Gent. FornKc vmlla Fides. Act. I. Sc. I. — Polina in a hlewe Gowne, shadowed with a hlache Sarcenet, going to the Temple to praye upon Andrugio's Tomhe. Promise is debt, and I my vowe have past Andrugio's tombe to wash with daylie teares ; Which sacrifice (although, God wot, in waste) I wyll performe : my altar is of cares ; in. 34 2G6 NOTES TO THE FIFTH ACT. Of rmuiiig sig-lies my offring incense is, ^ly ])illioLis playntes in steede of prayers are : Yea, woulde to God, in penaunce of my rays, T with the rest my loatlied lyfe might share ! But oh ! in vaine I wisli tliis welcomde ende ; Death is to slowe to slaye the wretched wig-ht. And all to soone he doth his forces bende To wounde their hartcs, which wallowe in delig-ht. Yet in my eare styll goes my passing bell, So ofte as I Andrugio's death doo minde. So ofte as men with poyntcd fingers tell Their friendes my faultes, which by my weedes they finde. But oh ! the cause with death which threates me most, I M'ish to dye, i dye through wretched woe ; My dying harte desires to yeelde the ghost. My traunces straunge a present death foreshowe. But as the reede doth bow at every blast. To breake the same when rowghest stormes lackes might. So wretched I with every woe doe waste, Yet care wants force to kyll my hart outryght. 0 gratious God, and is my gilt so great As you the same with thousand deatlies must wreake ? You will it so, else care I could intreate, With halfe these woes my thryd of lyfe to breake. But what meanst thou, Polina most accurst. To muse why God this pennaunce joynes thee to ? AVliose correction, although we take at worst. To our great good he doth the same bestow. So that, syth greefe can not relyve my friend, Sytli scorching syghes my sorrowes cannot drye, Syth care himsclfe lackes force my lyfe to ende, Syth styll I lyve that every howre doe dye ; Syth mighty God appoyntes my pennaunce so, In mornefull song I wyll my patience show. Polina's Song. Amyd my bale, the lightning joy that pyning care doth bring, With patience cheares my heavy hart, as in my woes I sing. 1 knoAv my gilt, I feele my scurge, my ease is death I see ; And care (I fynde) by peecemeale weares my hart to set mee free. 0 care, my comfort and refuge, feare not to worke thy wyll ; AVith patience I thy corsives byde ; feede on my life thy fyll : Thy appetyte with syghes and teares I dayly wyl procure. And wretched I will vaile to death, throw when thou wilt thy lure. [ Exit Polina. Act. I. Sc. II. — Enter a Messenger from the King. I have at length (though weery come in troth) Obtavnd a sight of Julio's stately walles : A kinu''s message can not be done with sloth : Whome he bids "'oe, must runne throuo-h mvre and dvrt : And I am sent to Lord Promos in post. NOTES TO TEE EIETH ACT. To tel him that the King wyll see him strayght ; But much I feare that Promos needes not host Of any gayne by his soveraignes receyte. But, Holla, tongue, of lavysh speeche beware. Though subjects oft in princes' meaning prye, They must their wordes and not their myndes declare : Unto which course I wyll my tongue apply ; Lord Promos shall my prince's comming know, My prince himselfe the cause thereof shall show. Act. L Sc. III. — Eosko, Lamia's man. Bosko. 1st possible that my mistris Lamia Over the shooes should b'yn love with Phallax ? Why, by Jesus (as she her selfe doth saye) AVith pure good wyll her harte doth melt lyke waxe : And this I am sure, every howre they themselves By their sweete selves, or by their letters greete : But the sport is, to see the loving elves Byll together when they in secret meete. She lowres, he lauffes, she syghes throwe pure love ; Nay, nay, sayes he (good pugges) no more of this : Well, sayes sliee, and weepes, my griefe you do not prove : Then strayght this storm e is cheared with a kys. And then a both sides three wordes and a smouch ; Within her eare then whispereth this slouch, And by the way he stumbleth on her lyppes. Thus eyther stryves most loving signes to show ; Mucli good doo it them, syth they are both content : Once I am sure, how so the game doth goe, I have no cause their lyking to repent. I syldome doe betweene them message beare, But that I have an Item in the hande : AYell, I must trudge to doe a certaine chare. Which, take I tyme, cocke for my gayne doth stand. Act. I. Sc. IV. — Phallax, Dowson, a Carpenter. Phallax. Dispatch, Dowson ; up with the frame quickly So space your roomes, as the nyne worthyes may Be so instauld as best may please the eye. Dowson. Very good, I shall. Phallax. Nay, soft ; Dowson, stay : Let your man, at Saint Annes crosse, out of hande Ereckt a stage, that the wayghts in sight may stande. Boicson. Wyll you ought else ? Phallax. Soft a whyle : let me see : On Jesus gate, the foure vertues, I trow, Appoynted are to stand. Dowson. I, syr, they are so. 268 NOTES TO THE riFTH ACT Phallax. Wei, then, about your charge : I will foresee The consort of musick well plast to be. Bowson. I am gone, syr. \Eait. Act. I. Sc. V.— The Bedell of the Taylers, Phallax. Bedell. Heare you, Maister Phallax ? The Wardens of the Marchantaylers axe Where (with themselves) they shall their pageaunt place ? Phallax. With what strange showes doo they their pageaunt grace ? Bedell. They have Hercules of monsters conqueryng. Huge great giants in a forest fighting. With lyons, beares, wolves, apes, foxes and grayes, Baiards, brockes, &c. Phallax. 0 wondrous frayes ! Marr}', sjt, since they are provided thus, Out of their wayes God keepe Maister Pediculus. Bedell. You are plesaunt, syr, but with speede I pray You aunswere mee ; I was charged not to stay. Phallax. Because I know you have all things currant, They shall stand where they shal no viewers want : How say you to the ende of Ducke Alley ? Bedell. There all the beggers in the towne wil be. Phallax. O, most attendaunce is where beggers are : Farewell, away. Bedell. I wyll your wtII declare. yExit. Act. I. Sc. VI. — Phallax. — Two men apparrelled lyTce greene men at the Mayor s feast, with cliihhes offyreicorJce. Phallax. This geare fadgetli now that these fellowes peare : Eriendes, where waight you ? First. In Jesus streete to keepe a passadge cleare. That the King and his trayne maye passe with ease. Phallax. O, very good. Second. Ought else, s}t, do you please ? Phallax. No, no : about your charge. Both. We are gone. [Exennt. Phallax. A, s}t, heare is short knowledge, to entertayne a kyng ; But 0, 0, quid non pecunia? yea, at a dayes warning? The King in provision that thought to take us tardy. As if we had a yeare bene warnd, shall by his welcome see. I have yet one chare to do : but, soft, here is Rosko ; I must needes del)-ver him a messadge before I goe. Act. I. Sc. YIL— Rosko. Phallax. Rosl-o. I fayth, I have noble newes for Lamia. Phallax. Nay soft, friend Rosko, take myne in your waye. RosJco. Mayster Phallax, 0, syr, I cry you mercy. Phallax. Rosko, with speede tell thy Mistris from me. NOTES TO THE FIFTH ACT. 2G9 The king straight wayes wyll come to the cytie, In whose great trayne there is a company Within her house with mee shall mery be. Therefore, for my sake, wyU her to foresee To welcome them, that nothing wanting be : This is aU I wyll, for want of leysure. [KviL Eosko. I wyl not fayle, syr, to show your pleasure. Mary, in fayth, these newes falles jumpe with the rest, Tliey shal be welcome and fare of the best : But although they well fyll their bodyes thus, Their purses will be dryven to a ?ion plus. No force a whyt, each pleasure hath his payne. Better the puree then body starve of twayne. Well, I wyll trudge my welcome newes to tell, But then abroade, good company to smell. [IlviL Act. I. Sc. YIII. — Corvinus the King; Cassandra ; two Counsellers, and Udislao, a young nohleman. Kyng. Cassandra, we draw neare unto the towne, So that I wyll that you from us depart, Tyll further of our pleasure you doe heare. Yet rest assured that wycked Promos Shall abide such punishment, as the world Shall hould mee just, and cleare thee of oflPence. Cassandra. Dread soveraigne, as you wyl ; Cassandra goeth hence. YExit. King. I playnely see it tendes to great behove. That prynces oft doo vayle their eares to heare The miser's playnt : for though they doe appoynt Such as they thynke wiU justice execute, Aucthority is such a commaunder, As whereas men by office bearetli sway. If they their rule by conscience measure not. The poore man's ryght is overcome by might : If love, or hate, from justice leave the judge, Then money sure may overrule the case. Thus one abuse is cause of many moe. And therefore none in judges ought to be. How rulers wrong, fewe tales are tould the King : The reason is, their power keepes in awe Such men as have great cause for to complayne. If Cassandra her goodes, nay life, prefer'd Before revenge of Promos treachery, I had not knowne his detestable rape, The which he forst to save her brother's lyfe. And furthermore, Andrugio's raunsome payde, I had not knowne he put him unto death : For when (good soule) she had this treason tould. Through very shame her honour so was spoyld. She drewe her knyfe to wound her selfe to death : Whose pytious plyght my hart provockt to wrath At Promos wyles : 270 NOTES TO THE FIFTH ACT. So that, to use inditferency to both, Even in the place where all these wronges were done, IMvselfe am come to syt upon the cause. ]iut see where Promos and the Mayor waight, To welcome mee with great solemnity. A\'ith cheereful showe I shadowe wyll the hate I beare to him for his insolency ; Perhaps I may learne more of his abuse, AVliereby the more his punishment may be. Come, my Lords, to the towne haste we apace. AH speahe. AVe all are prest to wayght upon your grace. Act. I. Sc. IX. — Promos, Maior, three Aldermen in red goicnes, with a Sworde bearer, aicai/ghtes the Kinges comming. Promos his hriefe Oration. Promos. Kenowned King, lo here your faithful subjects preast to show The loyall duetie which (in ryght) they to your highnesse owe. Your ])resence cheares all sorts of us ; yet ten times more we joye, You thinke us stoarde, our warning short, for to recepe a Eoye. Our wyll is such as shall supplie, I trust, in us all want, And where good wyll the welcome geves, provysion syld is scant. Loe, this is all, yea for us all that I in wordes bestowe ; Your Majestic our further zeale in ready deedes shall knowe. And first, dreade King, I render you the swoorde of justice heare. Which as your liuetenant, I trust, uprightlie I dyd beare. The King dehjrers the sicorde to one of his coiinselL King. Promos, the good report of your good government I heare ; Or at the least the good conceyte that towards you I beare, To incourage you the more in justice to perseave:". Is the cheefe cause I dyd addresse my progresse heather. Promos. I thanke your Highnesse. The MmoY presented the King tcith a fug re Pnrse. Maior. Kenowned King, our ready wylles to showe In your behalfe our goodes (nay lyves) to spende, In all our names I freelie here bestowe On your Highnes this purse ; unto this ende To possesse your most royall majestic. In all our wealth therto bounde by duetie. King. Your great good wyls, and gyfts, with thankes I take ; But keepe you styll your goodes to do you good. It is inough and all that I do crave, If needes compels for your and our safety. That you in part your proffers large performe ; And for this time, as outward showes make proofe. It is inough (and all that I desire). That your harts and tongues (alyke) byd me welcome. Att. Lord preserve your Majesty ! Fire or si.re, the one halfe men, the other women, neare unto the Musich, singing on some stage erected from the ground. During the first parte of the song, the King faiueth to tallce sadtie icith som? of his Counsetl. The Kings Gentteman Z'sher. Forwards, my Lords. \Theg att go ont legsurabtie while the rest of the song is made an ende. NOTES TO THE FIFTH ACT. 271 Act. II. Sc. I. — Lamia the Cartizan. Lamia. The match goes harde which rayseth no man's gaine ; The vertue rare, that none to vice maye wreast : And sure, the lawe that made me late complain e, Alliireth me many a wanton geast. Dames of my trade shutte up their slioppes for feare, Their stufFe prov'd Contra formam Statuti i Then I, which lycenst am to seU fine ware, Am lyke to be well customed, perdy. And nowe tynie serves, least custome after fayle, At hyest rate my toyes I vallue must : Let me alone to set my toyes to sale, Yong ruflers I, in faith, ^v^ll serve of trust. Who wayes me not, him wyll I fayne to love ; Who loves me once, is lymed to my heast ; My cullers some, and some shall weare my glove, And be my harte whose payment lykes me best. And here at hande are customers I trowe ; These are the friendes of Phallax, my sweete friende. Nowe wyll I go, and set my wares to showe. But let them laugh that wynneth in the ende. [Uxit. Act. II. Sc. II. — Apio and Bruno, two Gentlemen straimgers ; with Rosko. Apio. Come on, good friende: where dwels Lady Lamia? BosJi'o. Even by, syr. Ajjio. Well then, go thy waye. Showe who sent us, and what our meaning is, Least she, not knowing us, doo take amys That thus boldlye we come to visite hir. liosko. No bolder then welcome, I warrant you, sir. Bruno. WeU, thy message doo. Bosho. I go. [Ki'it. Foiore TFomen hravelie apparelled, sitting singing in Lamias windowe, witJi wroiiglit smoches and cawles in their hands, as if they were a loorhing. The Quyre. If 'pleasure he treasure. Apio. Harke. The golden worlde is here, the golden worlde is here. Befuse you, or chuse you. But welcome who drawes neare ; but welcome who drawes neare. Bruno. They be the Muses sure. Apio. Naye, Syrens lure. First sings. Here lyves delyght. Second. Here dyes despight. Thei both. Desyre here hath his wyll. Third. Here loves reliefe Fourth. Destroyeth griefe. Last tiDO. Which carefuU hartes doth kyll. Bruno. Attende them styll. 272 NOTES TO THE IIETH ACT. Apio. Thai, as you ^vyll. First. Here wysh in wyll doth care destroye. Second. PLiye here your fyll, we are not coye : Third. AMiich breedes much yll Ave purge annoy : Fourth. Our l}'ves here sty 11 we leade in joye. The Quyre. — If pleasure be treasure, The golden worlde is here, the golden Avorlde is here : Refuse you, or chuse you, But welcome who corns neare ; but welcome who coms neare. First. AVantons, drawe neare, Second. Taste of our cheare. Both. Our cates are fine and sweete ; Thirde. Come, be, not coye Fourth. To worke our joye ; The last two. AVe fall wyll at your feete. Bruno. A, good kinde wormes ! Apio. Harke. First. Loe here we be, good wyll which move ; Secoude. We Ip e, you see, for your behove : Thirde. Come, we agree to let you prove, FoiL-rth. AVithout a fee, the fruites of love. The Quire all. — If pleasure be treasure, the golden worlde is here, &c. Bruno. Upon this large warrant we maye venter. The doore opes alone ; come, let us enter. Aj)io. Agreede. Fnter a Sergeaunt hearing a Mace, another Offycer xtith a Paper lyhe a Proclamation ; and icith them the Cryer. Officer. Cryer, make a noyse. Cryer. O yes ! {And so thrise) Officer. All manner of personnes here present — Cryer. All manner of personnes here present — Officer. Be sylent, on payne of imprisonment. Cryer. Be sylent, on payne of imprisonment. The offycer reades the Proclamation. Corvinus, the hye and mightie King of Hungarie and Boemia : Unto all his loving subjects of Julio, sendeth greeting; and therwithaU giveth knowledge of his princelie favour towards every sort of them. Eirst, if any person, officer, or other, hath wronged any of his true subjects by the corruption of brybes, affecting or not favouring of the person, through usurie, extortion, wrong imprisonment, or with any other unjust practise. His Majestie A^ylles the partie so grieved to repayre to Syr Ulrico, one of his Highnesse Privie Counsell ; who (finding his or their injuries) is commaunded to certifie them, and their proofe, unto the Kings Majestie ; where incontinentlie he wyll order the controversie, to the release of the partie grieved, and the punishment of the offenders. Eurther, if any of his faithfull subjectes can charge any person, officer, or other, with any notable or haynous offence, as Treason, Murder, Sacriledge, Sedicion, or with any such notorious cryme ; for tlie safetie of his Eoyal Person, benefyte and quiet of his Bealme and subjectes, on Eridaye nexte, his most excellent Majestie (with the advise of his honorable Counsell) wyl in open Court syt, to heare and determine all such ofi'ences. Therfore he strayghtlie chargeth all and everie of his subjectes NOTES TO THE FIETH ACT. 273 that knowe any such haynous offenders, on the forenamed daye that he present both the offender and his faulte. Dated at his Eoyall Court in Julio, the 6 of Februarie. God save the King. [^Exeunt. Act. II. Sc. IV.— Eosko. BosJco. See howe we are crost ! we thought the King for pleasure Came to visite us : when to his paine And our plagues, I feare he bestowes his leysure To heare the wronges of such as wyll complayne Of any man : But the sport is, to see Us officers, one looke of another ; I at Lorde Promos, Lorde Promos at mee ; The Lawiers at the Shriefe and Maior : They gase as much on the ruling lawier ; Eor to be plaine, the clearest of all Peccavi syng, to heare the grievous call Against usurie, brybrie, and barrating, Suborning, extorcion and boulstring. Some faultes are hearde, some by Proclamation staye, Before the King to be hearde on Fridaye. I yet have scapte, and hope to go scot free : But so, or no, whylst leysure serves mee. To have my aunswers fresh if I be cauld, Of merry mates I have a meeting stauld, To whom, my sences to refresh, I wend ; Who gets apace as meryly may spend. \_Exit. Act. IL Sc. V. — Sir Ulrico tuith divers papers in his hand ; two poore Citysens soliciting complayntes. Ulrico. As thou complaynst ; agaynst all equity Houldes Phallax thy house by this extremity ? First. Yea, sure, and he hath bound me so subtylly. As lesse you helpe, lawe yeeldes me no remidy. Ulrico. AYell, what say you ? is PhaUax mony payd ? Second. Save fyve pound, syr. Ulrico. For which your bond is stayde. Second. Nay, mary, the same I would gladly pay. But my bonde for the forfeyt he doth stay. Ulrico. Summum jus, I see, is summa injuria. So these wronges must be salved some other way. First. Yea, more then this, most men say — Ulrico. What? First. To be playne, he keepes Mistris Lamia. Ulrico. Admyt he doe, what helpe have you by this ? Second. Yes mary, it prooves a double knave he is, A covetous churle and a lecher too. Ulrico. Well, well, honest men, for your witnesse go ; And as on proofe I fynd your injuries, So I wyl move the king for remedyes. Both. We thanke your honour. [Fxeunf. III. 35 274 NOTES TO THE EIFTII ACT. Ulrico. Tys more then straunge, to see M'ith honest show "What fowle deceytes lewde officers can hyde : In every case, tlieir crafte they collour so, As styll they have stryckt lawe upon their side. These cunning theeves with lawe can lordships steale, When for a sheepe the ignorauut are trust : Yea, who more rough with small offenders deale Then these false men, to make themselves seeme just? The tirant Phallaris was praysed in this, When Perillus the brasen torment made. He founde the Avretch strayght wayes in some amys, And made him first the scourge thereof to taste : A just reward for such as doe present An others fault, himselfe the guilty est man : Well, to our weale, our gratious king is hent To taste these theeves to use what meanes he can. But as at cheastes though skylfull players play, Skyllesse vewers may see what they omyt, So though our King in searching judgement may Gesse at their faultes which secret wronges commit, Yet, for to judge by truetli, and not by ame, Myselfe in cheefe his highnesse both auctorise On proofe for to returne who merj'ts blame. And as I fynde, so he himselfe will punish ; So that to use my charge indyfferently. My clyents' wronges I wyll with wytnesse trye. As he is going out, Pimos, a young Gentelman, speal-s to liim. Act. II. Sc. YL Pimos. Sir Ulrico, I humbly crave to know What good successe my honest sute ensues. Vlrico. Master Pimos, in breefe the same to showe, I feare you both my order wyll refuse. Lyros, that tliinkes he geves more then he should. And you, for that you have not what you Avould. Finios. It shall goe hard if that your award mislikes mee. Vtrico. Wei, goe with me, and you the same shall see. Pimos. I waight on you. [E.ven/tt. Act. III. Sc. I. Phaltcuv. ^ly troubled hart with guiltynesse agrev'd, Lyke fyre doth make my eares and cheekes to glow : God graunt I scape this blacke day unreprev'd, I care not how the game goe to-morrow. Well, I wyll set a face of brasse on it. And with the rest upon the King attend. Who even anon wyll heare in judgement syt, To heaven or hell some officers to send. But soft, a pryze ; Gripax and Rapax I see ; A share of their venture belonges to mee. NOTES TO THE FIFTH ACT. 275 Act. III. Sc. II. — Gripax, Rapax, Fromoters. John Adroynes, a Clowne ; Phallax. John. Nay, good honest Promoters, let mee go. Gripax. Tush, John Adroynes, we must not leave you so : What, an ould hobclunch, a wanton knave ! You shal to the King. John. Marry, John Adroynes, God save The King : why, he wyll not looke on poore men. Bapax. Yes, yes ; and wyll spye a knave in your face. John. Wyll he so ? then good you be gone apace. Gripax. And why? John. Least in my face he spye you too. Phallax. Have you scene a dawe bebob two crowes so ? Bapax. Well, come awaye, Syr Patch. John. Leave, or, by God, yle scratch. [^They fawle a fighiyng. Gripax. What, wilt thou so ? John. Yea, and byte too. Gripax. Helpe, Rapax, play the man. John. Nay, do both what you can. Phallax. If that in bobs theyr bargayne be, In fayth they sliare alone for mee. Bapax. What, bytest thou, hobclunch ? John. Yea, that chull, and punch. Gripax. 0 Lorde God, my hart. John. Knaves, He make you fart. Bapax. Hould thy hands. Lob. John. Fyrst, take this bob. Phallax. To parte this fraye it is hye time I can tell, My Promoters else of the roste wyU smeU. Bapax. 0, my neck thou wylt breake. John. Yea, Gods ames ! cryst thou creake ? Phallax. How now, my friends ! why, what a stur is this ! Gripax. Marry. Phallax. AVhat? John. Fare they part, yle make them pys. Phallax. Houlde ; no more blowes. John. Knaves, this honest man thanke that you scape so well. Phallax. Friende, l)e not to cranke ; I am an officer, and meane to know The cause why you brauld thus, before I go ; Your bobs show that the same you best can tell. Bapax. I would your worship felt the same as well, I then am sure this blockhedded slave For both his faultes double punishment should have. Phallax. What faultes ? Bapax. Marry. John. He wyll lye lyke a dogge. Phallax. How now, you churle, your tongue would have a clog. Say on. 276 NOTES TO THE FIFTH ACT. Rapax. To sliowe his first and chiefest faughte, — His father's maide and he are naught. John. What, I ? Rapax. 1. John. By my Grandsire's soule, you lye. Phallax. Peace. Friende, for this faulte thou must dye. John. Dye ? Leard save us, you sqwade knave ; yle bum yee. For reforming a lye thus against mee. Phallax. Tush, tush, it helpeth not if they can prove this. Gripax. For some proofe, I sawe him and the maide kys. John. Can not foke kys, but they are naught by and by ? Phallax. This presumption, friende, wyll touch the shrowdlie. If thou scape with life, be thou sure of this, Thou shalt be terriblie whipped for this kys. John. AVhypt ! mary God shielde ; chy had rather be hangde. Rapoj;. Growte-nowle, come to the king. John. Art not well bangde ? Phallax. AVell, good fellowes, lets take up this matter. Gripax. Nay first, John Adroines shal be trust in a halter. Phallax. Why, helpes it you to see the poore man whypt ? I praye you, friendes, for this tyme let him go. John. Stande styll, and chull whether they wyll or no. Rapax. Nay, but we charge him in the King's name, staye thee. Phallax. Harke, honest man, I warrant thee set free ; Grease them weU in their liandes, and speake them fayre. John. 0 Leard God, our tallow potte is not here. Phallax. Tush, clawe them with money. John. Who so ? my nayles are sharpe. Phallax. I see, for clownes Pan's pype is meeter then Apollo's liarpe : They can no skyU of no musicke but plaine song. Gripax. I praye lets goe ; we try fie tyme too long. Phallax. Strayglit. Cockes soule, knave, stoppe his mouth with money. John. 0, I ken you nowe, syr ; chy crie you mercie, Rapax. Come on, slouch, wylt please you be jogging hence ? John. Here is all ; tenne shyllinges and thp'tene pence. Phallax. Harke ye, my friendes. Gripax. We must not let him goe. Phallax. Harke, once more. John. Give them the money. Phallax. It shall be so. Rapax. Well, although he deserves great punishment, For your sake, for this tyme we are content : John Adroines, farewell ; henceforth be honest. And for this faulte wyll passe it ore in jeast. [UxenuL John. Then a'ives our money. Phallax. Wliy? John. Why, they dyd but jeast. Phallax. Yea, but they tooke thy money in earnest. [£xit. John. Art gone? now the dewle choake you all with it : How chy kisse again e the knaves liave taught me vryt ; But, by saint Anne, chy do see burlady. Men maye do wliat them woll, that have money. NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. 277 Ich surely had bene whipt, but for my golde, But chull no more with smouches be so bolde. Yea, and Ich wysh all lovers to be wyse, There be learing- knaves abroade have cattes eyes. Why, by Gods bores, they can bothe see and marke. If a man steale but a smouch in the darke. And nowe the worlde is growne to such jollie spye, As if foke doo kysse, the'are nought by and by, Well, ych wyli home, and tell my father Droyne, Howe that two theeves robd mee of my coyne. [Exit. Enter the King, Promos, Ulrico, Maior, Gonsago, Phallax, ivith two other attendantes. King. Sir Gonsago, if that we henceforth heare With will, or wealth, you doe our subjects wrong, Looke not agayne this favour for to fynde ; We use this grace to wyn you to amende : If not, our wrath shall feare you to ofiPende. God speede you. [Gonsago doth reverence^ and departeth. Kyng. I see by proofe that true the proverbe is, Myght maisters right, wealth is such a canker, As woundes the conscience of his maister. And devoures the hart of his poore neyghbour : To cure which sore, justice his pryde must pyne. Which justice ought in princes most to shine : And syth subjects lyve by their princes law. Whose lawes in cheefe the rytch should keepe in awe. The poore in wronges but sildome doth delyght, They have inuffe for to defende their right. It much behoves the maker of these lawes (This mony hndes in them so many flawes) To see his lawes observd as they are ment. Or else good lawes wyll turne to evyll intent. Well, ere I leave, my poorest subjects shall Eoth lyve and lyke, and by the richest stawU. Fromos. Regarded and most mightie Prince, your clemency herein Those harts your rule commands through feare, to faithful love shall Avin. Ulrico. Renowned King, I am for to complaine Of Phallax, Lord Promos secondary, Whose hainous wronges many poore men doth paine, By me, who pray your highnes remedy. King. My Lord Promos, it seemes you rule at large, When as your clarkes are officers unjust. Promos. Dread King, I thinke he can these wrong discharge. King. Doe you but thinke, syr ? a sure speare to trust, A dum death and blynde judge can do as much. Well, well, God graunt your owne lyfe byde the tuch. Syr Ulrico, your complaynt continew. Ulrico. Gratious King, his wronges be these insew. Pirst, Phallax is a common barriter. In office, a lewd extortioner. 27S NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. The crafty man oft ])iits these wrong-es in ure, If poore men have that lykes his searching eye ; lie showeth gould the needy soiiles to lure ; W'liich if they take, so fast he doth them tye, That by some bonde or covenaunt for-fayted They are inforst (farre beneath the vallew) To let him have what his eye coveyted : And for to prove that this report is true, I showe no more then witnesse prov'd by oth, AVhose names and handes defends it lieare as troth. [Ulrico delivers the King a writing irit/i names at it. King. How now, Promos ? how thinke you of your man ? Use both your Avyttes to cleare him if you can. Promos. Dread King, my hart to heare liis faultes doth bleede. King. How farde it then far'de to suffer it indeede ? It dyde, I trow, or now you speake in jest. Thy master's mute, Phallax ; I houlde it best That thou speake for thyselfe. FJialtax. I humbly crave Of your grace, for aunswere respyt to have. King. AMiy ? to devise a cloke to hyde a knave ? Friend, Veritas non qiKerit angulos; And if yourselfe you on your truth repose, You may be bould tliese faultes for to deny : Some lyttel care upon tlieir otlies to lye. See if any in your behalfe will sweare. Fliallax. O Lord God, is there no knyghtes of the poste heare ? Well then, of force I must sing Peccavi, And crye out ryght to the King for mercy, — 0 King, I am in faulte I must confesse, The which I wyll with repentannce redresse. King. Thy confession doth meryt some favour, But re])entaunce payes not tliy poore neyghbour ; AVherefore, Syr Ulrico, his goods sease you. And those he wrong'd, restore you to their due. Ulrico. Looke, what he gettes, most thinke he wastes straight wave Upon a leawde harlot, named Lamia : So that his goods wyll scarse pay every wight. King. AYhere naught is left, the king must lose his right. Pay as you may, I lioukl it no offence If cache pay somewhat for experience. But by the way, you rule the citty well. That suffer, by your nose, such dames to dwell. And now, Phallax, thy further pennaunce ys, That forthwith thou do resigne thy office. Uh"ico, to his account lykewise see. Ulrico. It shal be done. King. Phallax, further lieare mee : Because tliou didst thy faultes at first confesse, From punisliment thy person I release. Phallax. I most humbly do thanke your majesty. NOTES TO TEE FIFTH ACT. 279 Promos. Ah ! out alas ! Cassandra lieare I see. [Cassandra in a hletce goicne sTiadotced icitli black. Cassandra. O would the teares myglit tel my tale, I shame so much my fall, Or else Lord Promos lewdnes showen, would death would ende my thrall ! Promos. Welcome, my sweete Cassandra. Cassandra. Murdrous varlet, away ! Kenowned Kmg", I pardon crave for this my bould attempt In preasing thus so neare your grace, my sorrow to present : And least my foe, false Promos heare, do interrupt my tale, Graunt, gratious King, that uncontroul'd I may report my hale. King. How now. Promos ? how lyke you of this song ? Say on, fayre dame ; I long to lieare thy wrong. Cassandra. Then knowe, dread Soverayne, that he this doome did geve, That my brother for wantonnesse should lose his head. And that the mayde which sin'd should ever after lyve In some religious house, to sorrowe her misdeede. To save my brother jug'd to dye, with teares I sought to move Lord Promos hart to showe him grace ; but he with lawles love Was fyred by and by ; and knowing necessity To save my brother's lyfe, would make me yeeld to much. He crav'd this raunsome, to have my virginitie ; No teares could worke restraynt, his wicked lust was such ; Two evils here were, one must I chuse, though bad were very best, To see my brother put to deatli, or graunt his lewde request. In fyne, subdude with naturall love, I did agree Upon these two poyntes, that marry me he should, And that from prison vyle he should my brother free. All this, with monstrous othes he promised he would. But oh ! this perjurd Promos, when he had wrought his wyll, Fyrst cast me of, and after caus'd the gailer for to kill My brother, raunsomde with the spoyle of my good name : So that for companing with such a hellish feende, I have condemnde myself to weare these weedes of shame, Whose cognisance doth sliewe that I have (fleshly) sin'd. Loe thus, hie and renowned king, Cassandra endes lier tale, And this is wicked Promos that hath wrousfht her eudles bale. King. If this be true, so fowle a deede shall not unpunisht goe ; How sayst thou. Promos, to her playnte ? arte giltye ? yea or noe ? Why speakst thou not ? a faulty harte thy scilence sure doth showe. Promos. My gilty hart commaunds my tongue, O King, to tell a troth ; I doe confesse this tale is true, and I deserve thy wrath. King. And is it so ? this wicked deede thou shalt ere long buy deare. Cassandra, take comfort in care, be of good cheere : Thy forced fault was free from evill intent, So long, no shame can blot thee any way : And though at ful I hardly can content thee, Yet as I may, assure thyselfe I wyl. Thou wycked man, might it not thee suffice By worse then force to spoyle her chastitie, But heaping sinne on sinne against thy oth, Haste cruelly her brother done to death. This over proofe ne can but make me thinke That many waies thou hast my subjectes wrongd ; 280 NOTES TO THE FIFTH ACT. For liow canst thou with justice use thy swaie, AMien thou thy selfe dost make tliy will a lawe ? Thy tyrranny made mee this progresse make, liow so for sport tyl nowe I coUoured it, Unto this ende, that I might learne at large What other wronges by power thou hast wrought, And heere I heare : the ritche suppresse the poore, So that it seemes the best and thou art friendes : I plaste thee not to be a partiall judge. Thy ofFycers are covetous, I finde, By whose reportes thou over-rulest sutcs : Then who that gives an Item in the hande. In ryght, and wrong, is sure of good successe. A\'ell, varlet, well, to slowe I hether came To scourge thy faultes, and salve the sores thou mad'st. On thee, vyle wretche, this sentence I pronounce ; That forthwith tliou shalt marrie Cassandra, For to repayre hir honour thou dydst waste ; The next daye thou shalt lose thy hated lyfe, In penaunce that thou mad'st hir brother dye. Promos. My faultes were great, 0 King, yet graunt me mercie. That nowe with bloody sighes lament my sinnes too late. King. Hoc facias alteri (luod tibi vis fieri. Pittie was no plee, syr, when you in judgement sate : Prepare your selfe to dye, in vaine you hope for lyfe. My Lordes, bring him with mee : Cassandra, come you in like case ; My selfe wyll see thy honour salv'd in making thee his wife, The sooner to shorten liis dayes. All the company. We wayte upon your Grace. As the King is going out, a poore man shall hieele in Ms icaije. Kyng. Syr Ulrico, I wyld commission should be made To Syr Anthony Alberto, and Justice Diron, To heare and determine all sutes to be had Betwene Maister Prostro, and this poore man : is it done ? Ulrico. Benowned King, it is ready. King. Bepayre to Syr Ulrico for thy commission. All. God preserve your ^lajestie. They all depart save the Clowne. Cloicne. Bones of me, a man were better speak to great Lords chy see, Then to our proude justlers of peace that byn in the cuntry. He that is rytch, as my dame sayth, goes away with the hare : Tliis two yeere they have hard my matter, and yet cham nere the neere. And at first dash, a good fatte lorde, God in heaven save his life, Fayth, for notiiing, teld the King of ]\Ias Prostros and my stryfe. O Leard, ycli thought the King could not bide or poore men to looke ; But God save his Grace, at fyrst dash, my supplycation he tooke. And yon hard how gently he call'd mee poore man, and wild me goe For my passport, I kenne not Avhat, to good Syr Ulrico. A\ ell, chull go for't, and hope to be Avith Master Prostros to bring; But ere ych goe, chul my ballat of good King Corvyne sing. NOTES TO THE FIETH ACT. 281 The Clownes Song. You barrens bolde and lustie lads, Prepare to welcome our good King, Whose comming so his subjectes glads, As they for joye the belles doo ryng. They fryske and skippe in everie place, And happy he can see his face. Who checks the rytch that wrong by might, And helpes the poore unto his right. The love that rygour gettes, through feare, AYith grace and mercie he doth wyn ; For which we praye thus everie where. Good Lorde preserve our King Corvin. His favour raignes in everie place. And happy he can see his face. [_Exit. Act. IV. Sc. I. — Gresco, a good stibstantiall Offycer ; Two Beadelles in bleic Coates, with Typestaves. Gresco. Come, loytring knaves, speede about your businesse ; Eetche mee in all ydle vacaboundes. First. Yes, syr, yes. Gresco. Searche Ducke Alley, Cocke Lane, and Scouldes Corner : About your charge ; lets see howe you can sturre. Second. Yes, I have winges in my heeles to flee. First. Who gives two pence a straunge monster to see ? Second. What monster ? First. A horned beast with winges upon his heeles. Second. Out, dronken dreule. Gresco. What ! runnes your head a wheeles ? Be packing bothe, and that betymes, you are best. First. We are gone, syr ; we dyd but speake in jeast. \_Exeunt Beadetles. Gresco. The King, I fayth, hath set us all a worke. To searche odde holes where ydle varlettes lurke ; He so nypped our Maior for yll rule, As ever since he hath bene lyke to wliule ; And in a rage, the man is nowe so whotte. As lewde personnes, tagge and ragge, goes to potte, But in chiefe he stormes at fine mistrisse Lamia, She drinkes for all ; come she once in his waye : And least she scape, myselfe forsooth he wylles Worshipfullie to fetclie hir with fortie bylles. Well, I must goe and worke our Maior's heast ; No force, for once she wyll never be honest. \^Exit. Act. IV. Sc. II. — Andrugio, as out of the icooddes, tcith Bowe and Arrowes, and a Cong at his gyrdle. Andrugio. This savage life were hard to brooke, if hope no comfort gave ; But I (whose life from tyrant's wrath God's providence did save) m. 36 282 NOTES TO THE EIFTH ACT. J)() take in worth this misery, as penaunce for my mys, Stil fed with hope to chaimge this state when God's good pleasm-e is. A hollow cave for house and bed, in worth Andriigio takes ; Sucli sorie foode as fortune sendes, he syldome nowe forsakes. I am my selfe forsoothe nowe butcher, cooke, cater and all, Yea often tymes I fall to sleepe with, none, or supper small. Then in my denne I call to minde the lyfe I lyv'de in blisse, And by the want, I freedome judge tbe greatest joye that is. The freeman is in viewe of friendes, to have release in neede, The exyle, though he have no lacke, yet lyves he styll in dreede That his niysdeedes wyll hardly scape the punishment of lawe. And lyving he were better dead that lyvetli in this awe. Besides this feare which never fayles the banisht man in want, As ofte he is, is sure to finde his succors verie scant. Then who is he so mad, that friendes and freedome doth enjoye, That W7II adventure breach of lawe, to Ipe in this annoye ? And not annoye to him alone, but to his friendes and kyn : Great be the cares Cassandra and Polina lyvetli in. Through thought of me whom long agone beheaded they suppose : For my offence thus are they scorgde, yet dare I not disclose My safetie, for their helpe : but, harke ! who comraeth here ? This chamice seemes strange : God graunt good newes ; I hope, and yet I feare. John Adroynes, a Clowne : Andrugio. John. If che could linde my mare, che would be rusty, by the rood ! And cham sure the hoorechup is peaking in this wood. Chy wyl seeke every corner, but che wyll find her. [//;lit was be^j^un, and contiinied to the end, in nothing but confusion and errors ; where- upon it was eyer after\yards called the Night of Errors. " Neither the Gesta Grayorum, nor the registers of Gray's Inn, offer any further information on the subject ; but the circumstance of the comedy haying been represented fjj/ the /)//f(/ers, and the identity of name, render it almost a certainty that the i)lay aboye mentioned was Shakespeare's. The Gesta Grayorum, it appears from the dedication, was printed exactly from the original uianuscript, from which, obseryes tlic editor, it was " thoiig-ht necessary not to clip anything, which, though it may seem odd, yet naturally begets a yeneration upon account of its antiquity; " nor is there, indeed, the slightest reason for suspecting its authenticity. The next notice of the play occurs in the Palladis Tamia of ^leres, 1598, in the account of Shakes])eare's comedies, — " for comedy, witnes his Gentlemen of Verona, Ms Errors, his Loye Labors Lost, * &c. It was performed at Court, by the King s players, at the close of the year 1604, the following entry, first printed by Mr. Cunninghnm, occur- ring in the original accounts of the reycls preseryed at the Audit Ofhce, — " On Inosents Night the Plaie of Errors." A facsimile Ea:/rar£s &om the /irst ccMon of /:Ae PaUaJu Tamt/i ', _ confmmnt/ /Ac tv/r/tc.r/ //s/ o/ Talladis Tamin. WITS TREASVRY Being the Second part of Wits Common j wealth. , BY Frmcis Aderes Maijler of Artes of both Vni- ucrfities. j KtHttur ingenio . cttte/a mart it ermt, AT LONDON Printed by P. Short, for Cuthbcrt Burbi'e,and are to be folde at his fhop at the Royall Exchange^.! 59 8. As the Greeke tongue is made famous and eloquent by Homer, Hejhd,Euy 'ipede^, Aefchilw ^Sophocles , findarus, ThocyliJ^s gxid KriJlo^hoJins ; and the Latine tongue hjVirgiUy Quid, Horace , StLiw ItalicHS, huoantcs, Lucretius^ rayUn, kVarneTy Shakefpeare ^ iJVlarloTm and C,hap- Asthcfoulc oiEuphen-l>ns was thought to liue in Vjthagoroi : fo the (vveete wittic fbulc of Outd hues in mellifluous & hony to n gucd ShakeJ^are,Vi\tnes h is Vevui an d a^aimtf^h Lucre ce y his fugrcd Sonnets Wits Common -JVeakh. 282, among his priuatc friends,&c, As PlautHj and Seneca are accoutKcd the beft for Comedy and Tragedy among the Latinos : (oShtikefpeare amongy Eng- lifhisthemoft excellent in bothkmdsfor the ftagcifor Comedy , witncs his GetUme efr rroftn^his Errort,Wis Loue labors lofljtixs Loueldh^nrs wonKe^\\\% Mtdfummers night dre^mey&c his Merchant off^emceSotfti- gcdy his Riehardthe 2.Richardtbe Hen- ry the 4. King Tohn^Titm Androrticus and his "Romeo and laUet. As Epius Stelb (aid,thatthe Mufts would Itcake with T/aw/w tongue, if they would {peak Latinilb I fay that the Mufcs would ipeak with Shakefpeares fine filed phrafe^f tney would fpeakeEnglifh, And as Horace faith oihiSyExegi monn^ ntentU eares, and Warners worker. As Pindaru4,Anacreon and Callimachut among the Grcekcsj and ^*7vicv and Ca- tnllM among the Latines are the bcft Ly- rick Poets;ro in this faculty the bcft amog OUrPoets arc Spe»cer{vj\\o cxcellcth in aJl Ymdi%)Dani4^'Drayton,Sbak6fpeare,'Brettd AsthefeTragicke Poets flourtfhed in G reece, Aefchjliufiuripedts^ophocles, A • Uxander Aetoluf , zyfchro. *S'. Nay, master, both in mind, and in my shape. Ant. S. Thou hast thine own form. Di'o. S. No, I am an ape. Luc. If thou art chang'd to aught, 't is to an ass. JJro. S. 'T is true; she rides me, and I long for grass. 'T is so, I am an ass ; else it could never be. But I should know her as well as she knows me. Adr. Come, come, no longer will I be a fool, To put the finger in the eye and weep. Whilst man and master laugh my woes to scorn. Come, sir, to dinner; Dromio, keep the gate: — Husband, I '11 dine above with you to-day. And shrive you of a thousand idle pranks i^*^ Sirrah, if any ask you for your master, Say, he dines forth, and let no creature enter. Come, sister: — Dromio, play the porter well. Ant. S. Am I in earth, in heaven, or in hell? Sleeping, or waking? mad, or well-advis'd? Known unto these, and to myself disguis'd ! I '11 say as they say, and persever so, And in this mist at all adventures go." Dro. S. Master, shall I be porter at the gate? Adr. Ay; and let none enter, lest I break your pate. Luc. Come, come, Antipholus, we dine too late. \_Lxeunt. Holes U i^t §^tm)i |^ti ^ Enter Adriana and Lnciana. The stage direction in ed. 1623 is, " Enter Adriana, wife to Antipholis Sereptus, with Luciana her sister." Sereptus is no doubt a corruption of surreptus. The other Antipholus is sometimes called in the first folio Antipliolis Erotes, and AntipJiolis Errotis, the latter word being plausibly conjectured by Stee"vens to be an error for erraticm. These epithets were possibly obtained by Shakespeare from the old play of the History of Error. ^ Look, when I serve Mm so, he tahes it ill. " He takes it thus," ed. 1623 ; " he takes it ill," ed. 1632. The first reading appears to be wrong, unless it be supposed that Adriana makes some sign on the stage to signify that when she plays the truant, her husband corrects her. The conservancy of the rhyme is not absolutely necessary. ^ Why, head-strong liberty is lash'd tcith woe. Lash'd, that is, corrected, punished. " Fitstigner, to whip, scourge, lash, breech," Cotgr'ave. Luciana carries on the image suggested by Adriana, who, observing that asses only submit to the bridle, is told that the resistance to the curb is lashed by woe. Another explanation is oflPered by lash being often written for leash, a thong ; the verb lash, to bind together, being still in use. The meaning of this passage may be, that those who refuse the hridle must bear the lash, and that woe is the punishment of headstrong liberty. It may be observed, however, that the seamen still use lash in the same sense as leash; as does Greene, in his Mamillia, 1593 : " Thou didst counsel me to beware of love, and 1 was before in the lash.'" Again, in George Whetstone's Castle of Delight, 1576 : "Yet both in lashe at length this Cressid leaves." — Steevens. You shall to the next bush ; there will 1 tie you, and use you like a couple of curs, as you are, and though not leash you, yet lash you whilest my switch will hold ; nay, since you have left your speed, I'le see if I can put spirit into you, and put you in remembrance what halloe, halloe, meanes. — The Late Lancashire Witches, 1634. * But hath his hound, in earth, in sea, in shy. This passage may have been suggested by a verse in the book of Job, xxvi, 10, — " He hath compassed the waters with bounds." ^ Men, more divine, the maste?'S of all these. Man, more divine, the master of all these. Lord of the wide world," ed. nr. 45 354 NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. 1623. The plui-al has been substituted to suit the last lines of the speech, but as man is here a noun of multitude, the original text might perhaps be allo\ved to remain. " IIoic, if your husband start some other where? That is, somewhere else, to some other place. " Other where, ailiieurs," Palsgrave, 1530. " Get thee hence, and sei-ve some other where," Lilly's Woman in the Moone, 1597. Dr. Johnson suggests a singular alteration, — " start some other hare." And harke, all you that are lyke us amourous ; And you that are not, goe read some otherwhere. Soowthern's Fandora, 4to. Lond. 1584. The scholler being to have private use of it, fm-nished himselfe anotherichei-e, and afterward wavted a requitall, which was thus offered. — Gratia Ludentes, 1638, p. 62. " But if those sighs be too-too truly sighs, AYhicli issue from the bottom of my heart. And such as I need seek no other where. They then perhaps break out onely to shew The secret grief enclos'd within my breast. Phillis of Scyros, translated hy J. S., 1655. Patience, unmov'd, no marvel though she pause. Pause, that is, rest, is in quiet. " Fauso, to pause, stoppe, or rest," Cooperi Thesaurus, ed. 1584. "To pause, or rest," Minsheu. The next line explains this — "No wonder, says he, patience, unaffected by any calamity, untoucli'd by any grief, can pause for consideration, can have leisure to recollect herself, and in imagination exert her vu'tues ;" — see Much Ado about Nothing, Act 5. — Br. Dodd. ^ TJiat have no other cause. That is, W'ho have no cause to be otherwise. — 31. Mason. ^ As much, or more, ice should ourselves complain. Many can yelde right sage and grave advice Of patient sprite to others "^Tapped in woe. And can in speche both rule and conquere kinde, '^Vho, if by profe they might feele nature's force, Would shew themselves men as they are indede, "Which now wil needes be gods. — Ferrex and Forrex. ^° With urging helpless patience would'st relieve me. By exhorting me to patience that affords no help. "As those poor birds that helpless berries saw," Venus and Adonis. — Malone. This fool-hegg' d patience in thee will he left. Eool-begg'd patience, that is, patience only fitted to be an idiot, this foolish patience of yours will be forsaken, in allusion to the ancient custom of begging for fools, or of soliciting from the Crown the custody of the person, and the manage- ment of the estates, of a person of weak intellects. Concerning idiots, such is the prerogative of the princes of this land, that they shall have the custody of all the lands of natural fools, and may take the profits thereof without waste, or destruction, of whose fee soever the same be holden, finding to them necessaries ; and after the death of such idiots, the land must be restored to the right heirs : But, in the mean time ; that is to say, during the life NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. 355 of tlie idiot, the tuition of the idiot, or of his lands, cannot be devised by testament to any other person, contrary to the course of the common law, in prejudice of him to whom the wardship doth belong, saving the testator may commit the custody of such goods and chattels as he doth bequeath to the idiot, to whom he will, and during so long time as he will. — BrydalVs Non Compos Mentis, 1700, p. 48. Cicero tells us that there was a law made by Lastorius, which provided that there should be appointed for those which were distracted, or did prodigally waste their patrimony : For as it appeareth by the common adage used among the Homans, Ad Agnates et Gentiles deducendiis est: they did account all prodigals or spendthrifts, mad-men ; they meaning no more by that, than we do by our English Proverb, Let Mm he begged for a Fool, The reason of their adage was, because if any were distracted, by the Eoman law his wardship fell Ad Agnatos et Gentiles, i. e. to the next of the kindred. — Ibid. p. 24. " It was not the next relation only who begged the wardship of idiots in order to obtain possession of their property, but any person who could make interest with the sovereign to whom the legal guardianship belongs. Frequent aUusions to this practice occur in the old comedies. In illustration of it, Ritson has given a curious story, which, as it is mutilated in the authority which he has used, is here subjoined from a more original source, a collection of tales, &c., compiled about the time of Charles the First, preserved among the Harleian MSS. in the British Museum, 6395, — ' The Lord North begg'd old Bladwell for a foole (though he could never prove him so), and having him in his custodie as a lunaticke, he carried him to a gentleman's house, one day, that was his neighbour. The L. North and the gentleman retir'd awhile to private discourse, and left Bladwell in the dining roome, which was hung with a faire hanging; Bladwell walking up and downe, and viewing the imagerie, spyed a foole at last in the hanging, and without delay drawes his knife, flyes at the foole, cutts him cleane out, and layes him on the floore ; my L. and the gentl. coming in againe, and finding the tapestrie thus defac'd, he ask'd Bladwell what he meant by such a rude uncivill act ; he answered, S''. be content, I have rather done you a courtesie than a wrong, for if ever my L. N. had scene the foole there, lie would have begg'd him, and so you might have lost your whole suite.' The same story, but without the parties' names, is related in Fuller's Holy State, p, 182. Powel, in his Attourney's Academy, 1G30, 4to, says, ' I shall neede to give you this monitorie instruction touching an ideot; that you be assured that yourselfe is somewhat the wiser man before you goe about to beg Mm, or else never meddle with him at all, lest you chance to play at handy-dandy, which is tlie gardian or which is the foole ? and the case alter, e converso, ad conversiim.'' In A Treatise of Taxes, 1667, 4to, p. 43, there is the following passage : ' Now because the world abounds with this kind of fools (Lottery fools), it is not fit that every man that will may cheat every man that would be clieated ; but it is rather ordained that the sovereign should have the guardianship of these fools, or that some favourite should beg the sovereign'' s right of tahing advantage of such meris folly, even as in the case of lunatics and ideots.^ To this practice too, Butler alludes, in Hudibras, part iii. canto 1, 1. 591. Blackstone, in treating of idiots, has spoken of it ; and adds in a note, that the king's power of delegating the custody of them to some subject who has interest enough on the occasion, has of late been very rarely exerted," Douce. Would 1 might be begg'd, as hee had like to have been, if his foolery do not vex my discretion ; but hee gives me means, and He could do little, if 1 could not smile. — The Knave in Graine new Vampt, 1640. One begd for a foole. A Knight, held to be a very wise man in his life, left behind him a sonne and heyre that was none of the best witted, to inherit his land, who was beg'd for a foole, and summoned into the Court of Wards for his 356 NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. answer : When question was made unto him what hee couUl say for himselfe, why liis lands should not be taken from him, hee said. It is reported that my father was a wise man, and begot a foole to inherit his estate after his death ; Avho can tell but that I, a foole, may beget a wise man to inherit after me. His answer caried it, and he and his remaine in possession of the same revenues unto this day. — Pleasant Taunts, Merry Tales, &c., 12mo, n. d. This anecdote is referred to by Lilly, in his Mother Bombie. And should I know all this, and not take heed ? Twere pity then but I afresh should bleed, And you might hegge me for a fool indeed. PrestwicFs HqjjiolUus, 12mo. 1651, p. 98. 'Tis known how well I live, sayes Eomeo, And whom I list, I'le love, or will despise : Indeed it's reason good it shoidd be so : Fui they that wealthy are, must needs be wise : Bui this were ill, if so it come to pass, That for your wealth you must he beg'd an ass. Witts Recreations, 12mo. Lond. 1654. Beg him, beg him for a fool, And send him to the ducking-stool. Canidia, or the Witches, 4to. 1683. ^* Thou couldst not feel his meaning ? Man. No, Madam, I take commonly afore my master, for where he takes, he takes all, and leaves nothing for me to take. — Lisan. Oh, I feele your meaning. Man. Let my master have some feeling of yours, and heele preferre your suit — Days He of Gulls, 1633. And withal so doubtfully. Capell quaintly says, — " some readers may not be aware that doubtfully squints at, — redoubtedly, manfully." See his Notes, p. 72. The manuscript corrector proposes doubly for doubtfully, in both instances ; losing siglit, as we think, of the plain meaning of M ords. To speak doubly is to speak deceitfully; to speak doubtfully is to speak obscurely or unintelligibly. But certainly Luciana had no intention of asking Dromio if his master had spoken to him deceitfully. Such a question would have been irrelevant and senseless. She asks, spake he so obscurely that you could not understand his words ? — and the slave answers, " By my troth, so obscurely that I could scarce understand (that is, stand under) them." This is the only quibble. — Blachicood's Magazine, Aug. 1853. Why, mistress, sure my master is horn-mad. The earlier expression was horn-wood, — " though Cayphas goe home-wood therby," Chester Plays, ii. 68. "And make their husbands to become changelings, as being turned from sober mood to be hornewood," Stanihurst's Description of Ireland, p. 26. "And no more than as a bull's roaring and bellowing, and running horne-mad at every one in his way, when he is wounded by the dogges, and almost bayted to death," Nash's Have with you to Saffron AYalden, 1596. The expression was very common, and frequently used without any allusion to cuckoldism He asJcd me for a thousand marhs in gold. "A hundred markes," ed. 1623; "a 1000. markes," ed. 1632. The error arose probably from the number being written in figures in the original MS. NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. 357 Will you come home, quoth I? The word home, which is not in the foHo editions, was added by Hanmer. Am I so round tcith you, as you icith me. He plays upon the word round, which signified spherical applied to himself, and unrestrained, or free in speech, or action, spoken of his mistress. So the King, in Hamlet, bids the Queen be round with her son. — Johnson. If I last in this service, you must case me in leather. An allusion to the leather covering of the foot-ball. " In winter, foot-balls is a useful and charming exercise ; it is a leather ball about as big as one's head, fill'd with wind : this is kick'd about from one to t'other in the streets by him that can get at it, and that is all the art of it," Misson's Travels over England, 1719, p. 807. It had been the custom time out of mind for the shoemakers yearly on tlie Shrove Tuesday to deliver to the drapers, in the presence of the mayor of Chester, at the cross of the Eodehee, one ball of leather called a foote-bal], of the value of three shillings and fourpence or above, to play at from thence to the Common Hall of the said City. — Bandal Holmes^ MSS., ap. Strutt. Whilst I at home starve for a merry hole. " When that mine eye is famisht for a looke," Sonnets, ed. 1609. " Some- time all ful with feasting on your sight, and by and by cleane starved for a looke," ibid. My decayed fair. That is, my decayed fairness or beauty. " I never saw that you did painting need, and therefore to your faire no painting set," Sonnets, ed. 1009. But, too unruly deer, he hreahs the pale. A similar image occurs in a well-known passage in Venus and Adonis, " Til be the park," &c. "Waller calls a girdle, " the pale that held my lovely deer." Foor I am hut Ms stale. A stale or stalking-horse, the pretence of his virtue, under the protection of which he follows his evil devices. There were several meanings of the word, but the above explanation best suits the context, and can be well supported by extracts from other plays. " Did 1 for this lose all my friends, to be made a stale to a common whore," Dodsley, vi. 77. The following extracts are chiefly from Malone and Steevens. And that is all I could do, for before 1 could get earnest of any ones love. To whom I made addresse, even she would say, You have another mistresse, go to her ; I wil not be her stale. — The Shepheards Holyday, sig. G. i. Must an husband be made a stale to sinne, or an inlet to his owne shame ? — The Tico Lancashire Lovers, 1640, p. 21. Adriana unquestionably means to compare herself to a stalking-horse, formerly denominated a stale, behind whom Antipholus shoots at such game as he selects. So, in Greene's Groat's Worth of Wit, " Suppose, (to make you my stale to catch the woodcocke, your brother,) &c." Again, in Ben Jonson's Catiline: — dull stupid Lentulus, my stale, with whom I stalk.''' — Malone. Using the name of Christian as a stale Eor Arcane plots and intricate designes, Tlie Bivils Charter^ a Tragmdie, 4to. 1607. 358 NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. So, in King John and Matilda, by Robert Davenport, 1655, tbe queen says to Matilda: " — I am made your stale, the king, the king your strumpet," &c. Airain : " — I knew I was made a siale for her obtaining." Again, in the Misfortunes of Arthur, 1587 : "V\"as I then chose and wedded for his siale. To looke and gape for his retireless sayles Puft back and flittering spread to every winde ? The serpent tempts your wife, these eares and eyes can testifie ; for your sister, she's siale, his excuse whereby hee cloakes his vice. — The Knave in Graine neic Vampi, 1610. Would iliat alone alone lie tcoiild deiain. "Alone, a loue," ed. 1623; "alone, alone," ed. 1632. A similar jingle on this word occurs in King John, act iii. Would that alone the chain was the only circumstance that detained him, he would then keep, &c. I see, ilie jewel, best enamelled. The remainder of this speech is apparently so corrupt, it may be well to give an exact transcript of the next few lines from the first folio : I see the lewell best enamaled AVill loose his beautie : yet the gold bides still That others touch, and often touching will, "Where gold and no man that hath a name, By falshood and corruption doth it shame : In the second folio, loose is altered to lose, a colon is placed after u-'dl, and the last two lines are omitted. This singular omission is repeated in the tliird and fourth folios. " Yet the gold bides still, that others touch : — hit often touching will wear gold : and (so) no man that hath a name, hut falseliold," Theobald. "Yet the gold 'bides still, that others touch, tJiongh often touching will wear gold : and so a man that hath a name, by falsehood and corruption doth it shame," Heath. The reading generally adopted is, — " and tlio%igh gold 'bides still, that others touch, yet often touching will t\:ear gold : and no man, that hath a name, hut falsehood and corruption doth it shame." Capell reads, — " and e'en so, man, that hath a name, by" &:c. No alteration yet suggested is satis- factory, but perhaps the last line may be left as in the original, Adriana meaning to say, in great anger, thinking of her husband, — no man, that hath a name (a reputation), shames it by falsehood and corruption. Jewel may be applied, in its original signification, to any kind of trinket or ornament. "Gold in time does wear away," Damon and Pithias, 1582, ap. Malone. Where is, in all probability, an unquestionable error for wear. " AYere this sleeve," Troilus and Cressida, ed. 1609 ; " weare this sleeve," ed. 1623. It is used in the text as a neuter verb. " Worship weares, and worldly wights decay," Turbervile's Songes and Sonets, 1567, fol. 76. Here, were, and similar words, were frequently misprinted. Thus in the Tempest, eds. 1623, 1632, p. 6, here is printed heere, but in ed. 1663 it is hear. It is scarcely necessary to observe that the term jewel was applied, in Shakespeare's time, to almost any kind of rich ornament or rarity. They found a great dead fish, round like a porcpis, twelve foot long, having a home of two yards, lacking tM O inches, growing out of the snout, wreathed and straight, like a wax taper, and might be thought to be a sea-unicorne. It was broken in the top, wherein some of the saylers said they put spiders, Avhich presently died. It was resen ed as a jeicell by the Queenes commandement, in NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. 359 her Wardrobe of Eobes, and is still at Windsore to bee seene, — Pnrchas Ms Pilgrinies, 1625. An anonymous critic has recently endeavoured to make a readable text by the following bold and violent alterations : I see the jewel best enamelled Will lose his beauty ; yea tho' gold bides still The tester's touch, an often touching will Wear even gold, and no man hath a name But falsehood and corruption doth it shame. And make a common of my serious hours. That is, intrude upon them at will, as upon a common. If you will jest with me, know my aspect. Steevens explains this, study my countenance. It seems rather to be an astrological phrase, and to mean, ascertain whether my aspect he malignant or benign. He had just before mentioned the sun. Thus in 1 Henry IV. Act. 1. Scene 1, " Malevolent to you in all aspects." — Bouce. Majesticke Sunne, long may thy kinde aspect Shed downe sweet influence upon this clime. Zouch's Bove, or Passages of Cosmography, 1613. '^^ Or I will heat this method in your sconce. Sconce, a term for the head. " To maintain, therefore, that sconce of thine strongly guarded, and in good reparation, never suffer comb to fasten his teeth there," GuU's Horn-Book, p. 78. '■'Capo, a head, a pate, a nole, a skonce," Elorio's Worlde of AVordes, ed. 1598, p. 59. "Capocchio, ?ii doult, a noddie, a loggarhead, a foolish pate, a shallow skonce," ibid. Dromio plays on the two different meanings of the word, a petty fortification being likewise so termed. " Let us to our sconce," Orlando Eurioso, 1591. A somewhat similar quibble occurs in Taylor's Laugh and be Eat, ed. 1630, p. 75, — He praises thee, as though he meant to split all ; And saies, thou art all wit (but yet no witall) Except thy head, which, like a skonce or fort, Is barracado'd strong, lest wits resort Within thy braines should rayse an insurrection, And so captive thy head to wits subjection. Tis cause the mercer will not trust ye : for he knowes his booke is as good as a sconce for ye ; youle never out, tiU you bee torne or fired out. — Wilson's Cohler's Prophesy, 1594. A country-man being at the tearme, and hearing much riunour that my Lord of Lecester had wonne a sconce in the Low Countries, told his neighbours for newes when he came home that my L. of Lecester had won a Lanterne. — Copley s Wits, Fits, and Fancies, 1614. His beard 's not starcht, he has no subtile sconce. Nor Janus-like lookes he ten waies at once. Brathwaits Strappado for the Bivell, 1615. A sconce or block-house, also taken for the head, because a sconce or block- house is made round in the fashion of a head, whereupon comes the terme in Oxford to sconce one, mulctare pecunia, id est, to set up so much in the butterie booke upon his head, to pay for his punishment for his offence committed. — Minsheu. 3G0 NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. ^® Is neither rliyme nor reason. ''Absurdits, inconvenient, foolysslie, discordyng, dishoneste, abhorrynge, odiouse, agaynst all rime and reason," Eliotes Dictionarie, ed. 1559. Lest it make you clioleric. Over-roasted or dried up meat was formerly considered to induce choler, one of the many dietetical absurdities of our ancestors, again alluded to in the Taming of the Shrew, act iv. According to Newton's Touchstone of Complexions, 1576, f. 133, all kinds of hot meats " are very apte to be turned into choler." Eryed meate is harder of dygestyon than brulcd meate is, and it doth ingendre color and melancholy : bake meate, which is called flesshe that is bered, for it is bured in paste, is nat praysed in physycke. — Andrew Boorde's Compendyous liegyment of Healthe, 15G7. ^° And purchase me another dry Jjasting. Dromio here plays upon the word hasting, a dry basting being also a severe beating. "A drie stroke," Palsgrave, 1530. " Hard dry bastings," Hudibras. 3Iay he not do it by fine and recovery? An allusion to the old custom of barring entails by fine and recovery, now abolished by statute. It was accomplished by a fictitious action, described in most of the old English works on law. ^' Being, as it is, so plentiful an excrement. Hair, and even feathers, were usually termed excrements. The term was, indeed, applied very generally in its primitive sense. "And howsoever hayre fals AA ithin the name of excrement, yet it is evermore the argument of a rancke or rich soyle where it growes, and of a barren where it failes ; for I dare bouldly })ronounce, in despight of all paltry proverbs, that a man's wit is ever rankest, M hen his hayre is at the fullest," Chapman's Justification of a strange Action of Nero, 1G29. The allusion is here to the old proverb of a man having more hair than wit, shortly afterwards alluded to in the text. " You know haire is but excrement," Cupid's Whirligig. " His wife Queen Guinever lay buried likewise with him, the tresses of whose hair, the last of our excrements that perish, finely platted," Lives of English Worthies. ^■^ ylnd what he hath scanted men in hair. The old copy reads them, corrected to men by Theobald. The same error occurs in 2 Henry lA'., — "the eares of them," ed. 1623; "theeares of men," ed. 1600. There's many a man hath more hair than int. Thy liead is for thy shoulders now more fitt ; Thou hast less haire uppon it, but more witt. The Flay of Sir Thomas Mo7'e, ed. Dyce, p. 51. Gr. My owne wit ! my owne naturall wit to a haire. — As. Not too much haire of your owne, and wit together, father ; 'tis not the fashion. — Shirley's Oppor- tnnitie, 1610. This great voluminous pamphlet may be said, To be like one who hath more haire than head ; More excrement than body : — trees, which sprout AA'ith broadest leaves, have still the smallest fruit. Barnassns Biceps, 8vo. 1656, quoted by Malone. One that was a great practitioner of physiognomic, reading late at night, NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. 361 happened upon a place which said hayrie men for the most part are dull, and a thick long beard betokened a fool. He took down his looking-glasse in one hand, and held the candle in the other, to observe the growth and fashion of his own, holding it so long, till at length by accident he fired it : whereupon he wrote on the margent, Probatum est! — A Banquet of Jests, ed. 1657, p. 71. Not a man of those, hut he hath the wit to lose his hair. That is, those who have more hair than wit, are easily entrapped by loose women, and suffer the consequences of lewdness, one of which, in the first appear- ance of the disease in Europe, was the loss of hair. — Johnson. So, in the Koaring Girl, 1611 : " — Your women are so hot, 1 must lose my hair in their company, I see." — " His hair sheds off, and yet he speaks not so much in the nose as he did before." — Steevens. Nay, not sure in a thing falling. In allusion to the hair. This is Heath's emendation, the old edition reading falsing, from the verb, to false. "And, by my sword, for thousand kingdoms will not false my word," Du Bartas. " She falsed her faith," Edward IV. To save the money that he spends in trimming. The old copies read, trying, the consonant, or perhaps the mark of contraction, having been accidentally omitted. All modern editors read tiring for attiring ; but the one reason that he loses his hair is to save the expense of a barber, not that of a tailor. The above note was published by me about two years before the appearance of the Perkins annotations, where the same suggestion occurs, and is similarly supported. There is no time for all things. " In some copies of the original and authentick edition of this copy, the letter (t) in there had dropped out : in one of my copies it is almost visible ; accordingly it was restored in the second folio," Malone. In three copies of the first folio now (1854) in my possession, the marks of the t are distinctly visible on a close examination, although a casual observer would scarcely notice them. A small portion of the upper part of the t is also visible in the copy of the same work preserved at the London Institution ; while in another copy, in the possession of George Smith, esq., there is merely the slightest possible spot of ink before the h, and not the same trace of the missing letter as is discovered in the other copies. There cannot, however, be a doubt but that the first folio really reads there, the first letter used being a battered type. Namely, no time to recover hair lost hy nature. " In no time," ed. 1623 ; corrected in ed. 1632. The present reading is supported by the next speech, and indeed by a previous one. Malone reads, — " e'en no time ;" and Mr. Knight defends the original text : — " in agrees well enough with the long joke about hair and periwig. Dromio proves that there is no time for all things, because a man recovers his hair, by means of a periwig, in no time." *° Ihiew, 7 would he a hold conclusion. Bald, metaphorically, poor, wretched, valueless. "But the morning being come, we hired a boores waggon to carry us to a place called Citezen, three miles there, or 12. English miles from Buckstahoo : a little hald dorp it is, where we came about noone, and found such slender entertainement, that we had no cause to boast of our good cheere or our hostesse cookery," Taylor's Workes, 1630. m. 46 362 NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. But, soft, icho wafts us yonder ? Wafts, beckons. " It wafts me still," Hamlet, ed. 1623, the early quarto editions reading — "it waves me still." *" That never words were music to thine ear. " Her words are musick," Soliman and Perseda, quoted by Malone. Unless I spahe, or looTcd, or touch' d, or carvd to thee. See a long note on carvdng for a person having been considered a mark of affection, in vol. ii. p. 311. Carvdto is frequently the old phraseology. " Karve this swanne, whyle I karve to these ladyes," Palsgrave, 1530. Where love had apeared in him to her alway Hotte as a tost, it grew cold as a kay. He at nieate carving her, and none els before, Now carved he to al but her, and her no more. John Reijwoodes Woorlces, 4to. Lond. 1577. This done, Lady Yoluptuousnesse set niee in the highest place, and there sate on eyther side of me Licourishnesse and Drunkennesse ; then the rest of the ladies sate downe in their degrees, but Yoluptuousnesse sate right against mee, who curiously carved mee of the delicatest meate. — The First Part of the Voyage of the IVandering Knight, sig. E. 3. Likewise tlie young man's fingers will itch to be handling of taffata, and to bee placed at the table, and to be carved unto by Mistris Dorothy ; it wil make him and the good plaine old Jone his mother to passe over al respect of portion or patrimony.— A'2tYVr« Art of Thriving, 1635, p. 117. Inc. He try your kid, if he be sweet : he looks wel : yes, he is good ; He carve you, sir. — Phil. You use me too-too princely: tast, and carve too. — Love's Pilgrimage, ed. 1647, p. 3. As easy mayst thou fall a drop of icater. Fall, to let fall. " To fall it on Gonzalo," Tempest. " Each drop she falls would prove a crocodile," Othello. And tear the stain' d shin off my harlot brow. Although all the folios read of not off, the metre, by the elision of the verb, shows the latter was the word intended. O^and of were constantly printed and written for each other in old English books. " I puU of a bridle," Palsgrave, 1530. "1 am alreadye faine to live of your leavinges," Cupids Whirligig, 1607. " Take lieed the thornes teare not the homes of my Cowe hides, as thou goest neare the hedges." — Hey wood's Edward the Fourth [Part First), sig. E 2. ed. 16 19, ap. Dyce. / am possessed with an adulterate blot. " If he should heare of such adulterate wrong," Tragedy of Hoffman, 1631. " With feigned pleasures and adulterate smiles," AYizard, a play, c. 1610, MS. See also the Inconstant Ladie, p. 1)0 ; Beaumont and Fletcher, iv. 240. ^' Jly blood is iningled with the crime of lust. That is, with criminal lust. See examples of this mode of construction in vol. i. p. 281. AYarburton proposes to read, grime of lust. Being strumpeted by thy contagion. Shakespeare, observes Steevens, is not singular in his use of tliis verb. So, m Heywood's Iron Age, 1632, — "By this adultress basely strumpeted ;" and again, — " 1 have strumpeted no Agamemnon's queen." NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. 303 / live unstained, tJiou, iii) dishonoured. Distain'd, ed. 1623, corrected by Theobald. " The fact undoubtedly is," observes Mr. Dyce, " the MS. having- vnstaind, the original compositor mistook the initial v for a d, and the first half of the n for an It is also very likely that tlie n was erroneously only half-written with one stroke, this mistake often occurring with the ii and the ti, in manuscripts of the period. Heath proposed to read, — "I live distained, thou dishonoured," — that is, as long as thou continuest to dishonour thyself, I also live distained. Distained was always used in the sense of stained, from Er. desteindre. ™ In EpJiesus I am hut two hours old. He, very carefull of the young gentlemans safety, as it seemed, told him the day was old, and the waies dangerous, and should by no meanes leave his house that night. — Nixon^s Scourge of Corruption, 1615. Be it my wrong, you are from me exempt. Exempt, that is, separated, parted, taken away, from eximo. "A verie remote and exempt place," a place separated from the rest of the town. Letter dated 1600, Collier's Memoirs of Alleyn, p. 57. A better illustration of this oblique use of the word occurs in the old play of King John, ed. 1611, sig. F. 3, — " Goe, cursed tooles, your office is exemjDt." The sense of the text is, says Dr. Johnson, — if 1 am doomed to suflPer the wrong of separation, yet injure not with contempt me who am already injured. " They fix thee here a rock, whence they're exempt," Triumph of Honour, Beaumont and Fletcher, ed. Dyce, ii. 503, explained by Mason, — they fix you a rock in this place, from whence the other rocks are taken away. " Exempt from ancient gentry," Henry VL One critic suggests that Adriana means that her husband was exempt only from her power over him. ^"^ But icrong not that wrong with a more contempt. To wrong the wronger till he render right. — Hope of Lucrece. Thou art an elm, my hushand, la vine. This classical image (vid. Catullus, Ovid, Horace) is very frequently alluded to by our early writers. " The vine that climbes by conjugal! embracements 'bout the elme," Cartwright's Eoyall Slave, 1651. " They led the vine to wed lier elm," Milton. There is an eml)lem of a " withered elme" intertwined by a vine in Whitney, ed. 1586, p. 62. O heav'n awake ! shewe forth thy stately face, Let not these slumbring clowds thy beawties hide. But with thy cheerefull presence helpe to grace The honest bridegroom e and the bashfull bride. Whose loves may ever bide like to the elme and vyne, AYith mutuall embracements them to twyne. The Countesse of Femlrolces Arcadia, ed. 1593, f. 193. So in A Midsummer Night's Dream, " The female ivy so enrings the barky fingers of the elm." There is something extremely beautiful in making the vine tlie lawful spouse of the elm, and the parasite plants here named its concubines. — Douce. Usurping ivy, briar, or idle moss. Idle, fruitless, bearing no fruit. " Antres vast, and deserts idle," Othello. Briar is here, as ]\I alone observes, a monosyllable. 364) NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. TFIiat error drives our eyes and ears amiss ? "To turne or drive, to wind about, circumago" Baret's Alvearie, 1580. "Which humbleness may drive unto a fine," Merchant of Venice. The Perkins MS. reads draws, which is surely unnecessary. Pll entertain the forced fallacy. "The free'd fallacie," ed. 1023. Pope suggests /ai'o/^rW; the Perkins MS., proffer' d ; and Steevens, offer d. The present reading is taken from the Dent annotated copy of the third folio. Until I can unravel this evident mystery, I will adopt the enforced deceit. Perhaps, however, the old reading is right, the free'd fallacy, or the free fallacy, being the permitted or allowed fallacy, using a common meaning of free, divAfree^d being an ordinary construction before a sub- stantive. " A notable example that a free'd woman should defend strangers," Tacitus, English tr. 1622. 0, spite of spites ! Yet while I languish, him that bosome clips. That lap doth lap, nay, lets, in spight of spight, This fanning mate tast of those sugred lips. Sir P. S. Ms Astropliel and Stella, 4to. 1591. We talh icith goblins, axels, and spriglits. Thus the first folio, the second reading, Elves Sprights, generally altered to elvish sprights, on account of the metre ; but the line, in the original, may be accepted as one of the many imperfect retarding verses following a pentameter or hexameter. Owls has been unnecessarily altered to onphes. The owl here meant is the strix, " a shrich owle, a witch that chaungeth the favor of children, an hagge or fairie," Baret, 1580, the tales respecting which are ridiculed by Pliny, Holland's translation, ed. 1601, i. 347. " 1 think I am sure cross'd, or witch'd with an owl," London Prodigal. The reader may also be referred to Ovid de Eastibus, lib. vi. 135 ; Sheringham's Disceptatio de Anglorum gentis origine, 1670 ; Olaus Magnus de Gentibus Septentrionalibus, p. 112 ; Lavater of Ghostes and Spirites, 1572. There was no savage shape or larval hue, No bug, no bale, nor horrid owlerie. But aU that there was, was sincere and true. Copley s Fig for Fortune, 1596, p. 63. Dreading no dangers of the darkesome night. No oules, hobgoblins, ghosts, nor water-spright. Cornucopia, or PasquiVs yight-Cap, 1623, ap. Steevens. Strix, a stritch owle, an unluckie kinde of bird (as they of old time say) which sucked out the blood of infants lying in their cradles, a witch that changeth the favour of children, an hagge or fairie. — Thomasii Bictionarium, ed. 1596. '''' Dromio, thou drone, thou snail. " Dromio, thou Dromio," ed. 1623 ; but although the last word is there printed with a capital letter, and in Italics, as a proper name, the present reading, suggested by Theobald, seems too reasonable to be rejected. " Thou snail," ed. 1623 ; " snail," ed. 1632. Drone occurs as a term of reproach in the Merchant of Venice, and again, at a later period, in Shadwell's Lancashu-e Witches, 1682. And shrive you of a thousand idle pranJcs. Call you to confession, and make you tell your tricks. — Dr. Johnson. NOTES TO THE SECOND ACT. 365 And in this mist at all adventures go. " To buy at all adventure, or to buy a pigge in a poke, emere aleain, hoc est incertum rerum inventum" Baret's Alvearie, 1580. The phrase was used up to a recent period, an instance occurring in De Foe. An admonition to such as call their children at all adventures, sometimes by the names of dogs, even as they prove after. — SmitJis Sermons, 1609. Philaiitus, seeing this lady so courteous, and loving Camilla so earnestly, could not yet resolve himselfe what to doe : but at the last, Love, which never regardeth what it speaketh, nor where, replied thus at all adventures • Ladies and Gentle- women, would I were so fortunate that I might choose every one of you for a flower, and then would I boldly alRrme that I could shew the fairest posie in the world. — Lilly s Euphues, 1623. SCENE I. — A public place opposite the house Antipholus of Ephesus. Antipholus o/" Ephesus/ Dromio o/" Ephesus, Angelo, and Balthazar. Ant. E. Good signior Angelo, you must excuse us alL My wife is shrewish, when I keep not hours : Say, that I hnger'd with you at your shop, To see the making of her carcanet,' And that to-morrow you will bring it home. But here 's a villain, that would face me down He met me on the mart ; and that I beat him, And charg'd him with a thousand marks in gold ; And that I did deny my wife and house : Thou drunkard, thou, what didst thou mean by this ? Dro. E. Say what you will, sir, but I know what I know : That you beat me at the mart, I have your hand to show : If the skin were parchment, and the blows you gave were ink, Your own handwriting would tell you what I think. A7it. E. I think thou art an ass. Dro. E. Marry, so it doth appear^ By the wrongs I suffer, and the blows I bear. I should kick, being kick'd ; and, being at that pass, You would keep from my heels, and beware of an ass. Ant. E. Y' are sad, signior Balthazar ; 'Pray God, our cheer May answer my good will, and your good welcome here. Bal. I hold your dainties cheap, sir, and your welcome dear. 368 THE COMEDY OE ERRORS. [act iii. sc. i. Ant. E. O, signior Balthazar, either at flesh or fish, A tahle-full of welcome makes scarce one dainty dish. B(d. Good meat, sir, is common ; that every churl affords. Ant. E. And welcome more common ; for that 's nothing hut words. B(d. Small cheer and great welcome make a merry feast. Ant. E. Ajy to a niggardly host, and more sparing guest : But though my cates be mean, take them in good part ; Better cheer may you have, but not with better heart. But soft ; my door is lock'd. Go bid them let us in. Bro. E. Maud, Bridget, Marian, Cicely, Gillian, Jin !* Dro. S. [JVith'm.^^ Mome, malt-horse, capon, coxcomb, idiot, patch !^ Either get thee from the door, or sit down at the hatch : Dost thou conjure for wenches, that thou calFst for such store, When one is one too many? Go, get thee from the door. Dro. E. What patch is made our porter?^ My master stays in the street. Dro. S. Let him walk from whence he came, lest he catch cold on 's feet. A7it. E. Who talks within there ? ho ! open the door. Dro. S. Right, sir, I '11 tell you when, an you '11 tell me wherefore. Ant. E. Wherefore ? for my dinner ; I have not din'd to day. Dro. S. Nor to-day here you must not ; come again when you may. A?it. E. What art thou, that keep'st me out from the house I OAve ? Dro. S. The porter for this time, sir, and my name is Dromio. Dro. E. O, villain, thou hast stol'n both mine office and my name ; The one ne'er got me credit, the other mickle blame. If thou hadst been Dromio to-day in my place. Thou wouldst have chang'd thy face for a name, or thy name for an ass.^ Luce. [Tf^it/iin.~\ What a coil is there ! Dromio, who are those at the gate ? Dro. E. Let my master in, Luce.^ Luce. Faith, no ; he comes too late ; And so tell your master. Dro. E. O Lord, I must laugh : — Have at you with a proverb. — Shall I set in my staff? ACT III. SC. I.] THE COMEDY OF EEEORS. 369 Luce. Have at you Avith another: that 's, — When? can you tell ?^ Dro. S. If thy name be called Luce, — Luce, thou hast answer'd him well. Ant. E. Do you hear, you minion? you '11 let us in, I hope?^° Luce. I thought to have ask'd you. Dro. S. And you said, no. Bro. E. So, come, help ; well struck ; there was blow for blow. Ant. E. Thou baggage, let me in. Luce. Can vou tell for whose sake ? Dro. E. Master, knock the door hard. Luce. Let him knock till it ake. Ant. E. You '11 cry for this, minion, if I beat the door down. Luce. What needs all that, and a pair of stocks in the town ? Adr. [Within.'] Who is that at the door, that keeps all this noise ? Dro. S. By my troth, your town is troubled with unruly boys. Ant. E. Are you there, wife ? you might have come before. Adr. Your wife, sir knave ! go, get you from the door. Dro. E. If you went in pain, master, this knave would go sore. Ang. Here is neither cheer, sir, nor welcome ; we would fain have either. Bal. In debating which was best, we shall part with neither. Dro. E. They stand at the door, master ; bid them welcome hither. Ant. E. There is something in the wind, that we cannot get in. Dro. E. You would say so, master, if your garments were thin. Your cake here is warm within ; you stand here in the cold : It would make a man mad as a buck,^^ to be so bought and sold.^' Ant. E. Go fetch me something, I '11 break ope the gate. Dro. S. Break any breaking here,^* and I '11 break your knave's pate. Dro. E. A man may break a word with you, sir, and words are but wind : Ay, and break it in your face, so he break it not behind. III. 47 370 THE COMEDY OE EEEORS. [act III. sc. I. l)ro. S. It seems, thou wantest breaking : Out upon thee, hind ! Dro. E. Here 's too much, out upon thee ! I pray thee, let me in. IJro. S. Ay, wlien fowls have no feathers, and fish have no tin. Ant. E. Well, I '11 break in : Go, borrow me a crow. Bw. E. A crow without feather : master, mean you so ? For a fish without a fin, there 's a fowl without a feather If a crow help us in, sirrah, we '11 pluck a crow together.^" Jnt. E. Go, get thee gone ; fetch me an iron crow. Bed. Have patience, sir, O let it not be so. Herein you war against your reputation. And draw within the compass of suspect" The unviolated honour of your wife. Once, this,^^ — Your long experience of her wisdom, Her sober virtue, years, and modesty. Plead on her part" some cause to you unknown ; And doubt not, sir, but she will well excuse Why at this time the doors are made against you.^*^ Be rul'd by me ; depart in patience. And let us to the Tiger all to dinner : And, about evening, come vovnself alone. To know the reason of this strange restraint. If by strong hand you offer to break in. Now in the stirring passage of the day, A vulgar comment will be made of it ; And that supposed by the common rout,"^ Against your yet ungalled estimation, That niay with foul intrusion enter in. And dwell upon your grave when you are dead : For slander hves upon succession ; For ever housed, where it gets possession.^^ Ant. E. You have prevail'd. I will depart in quiet. And, in despite of iMirth, mean to be merry .^^ I know a wench of excellent discourse Pretty and witty; wild, and yet, too, gentle ; — There will we dine : this woman that I mean. My wife (but, I protest, without desert) Hath oftentimes upbraided me withal ; To her will we to dinner. Get you home, And fetch the chain ; by this, I know, 't is made : Bring it, I pray you, to the Porpentine ; ACT III. SC. THE COMEDY OF ERROES. 371 For there 's the hovise ; that chain will I bestow (Be it for nothing but to spite my wife) Upon mine hostess there : good sir, make haste : Since mine own doors refuse to entertain me, I '11 knock elsewhere, to see if they '11 disdain me. Afig. I '11 meet you at that place some hour hence. Ant. E. Do so. This jest shall cost me some expense. [Exeunt. SCENE II.— A public Street. Enter Luciana^^ and Antipholus of Syracuse. Ltic. And may it be that you have quite forgot A husband's office ? shall, Antipholus, Even in the spring of love, thy love-springs rot Shall love, in building, grow so ruinous If you did wed my sister for her wealth. Then, for her wealth's sake, use her with more kindness : Or, if you like elsewhere, do it by stealth ; Muffle your false love with some show of blindness : Let not my sister read it in your eye ; Be not thy tongue thy own shame's orator ; Look sweet, speak fair, become disloyalty; Apparel vice like virtue's harbinger : Bear a fair presence, though your heart be tainted ; Teach sin the carriage of a holy saint ; Be secret-false : What need she be acquainted What simple thief brags of his own attaint : 'T is double wrong to truant with your bed. And let her read it in thy looks at board : Shame hath a bastard fame, well managed 111 deeds are doubled with an evil word. Alas, poor women ! make us but believe. Being compact of credit,^° that you love us ; Though others have the arm, show us the sleeve ; We in your motion turn, and you may move us.^^ Then, gentle brother, get you in again ; Comfort my sister, cheer her, call her wife : 'T is holy sport to be a little vain,^^ When the sweet breath of flattery conquers strife. THE COMEDY OF ERUORS. [act m. sc. n. Ant. S. Sweet mistress, (what your name is else, I know not, Nor by what wonder you do hit of mine,) Less, in your knowledge, and your grace, you show not, Tlian our earth's wonder, more than earth divine. Teach me, dear creature, how to think and speak ; Lay open to my earthy gross conceit, Smotlier'd in errors, feeble, shallow, weak. The folded meaning of your word's deceit. Against my soul's pure truth why labour you. To make it wander in an unknown field ? Are you a god ? would you create me new ? Transform me then, and to your power I '11 yield. But if that I am L then well I know. Your weeping sister is no wife of mine. Nor to her bed no homage do I owe ; Far more, far more, to you do I decline.^^ O, train me not, sweet mermaid, with thy note,^* To drown me in thy sister flood of tears,^' Sing, siren, for thyself, and I will dote : Spread o'er the silver waves thy golden hairs,^^ And as a bed I '11 take thee, and there lie {" And, in that glorious supposition, think lie gains by death, that hath such means to die : — Let Love, being light, be drowned if she sink Luc. What, are you mad, that you do reason so? Ant. S. Not mad, but mated how, I do not know. Luc. It is a fault that springeth from your e^^e. Ant. S. For gazing on your beams, fair sun, being by. Luc. Gaze where you should,^° and that will clear your sight. Atit. S. As good to wdnk, sweet love, as look on night. Luc. Why call you me love ? call my sister so. Ant. S. Tby sister's sister. Luc. That 's my sister. Ant. S. No ; It is thyself, mine own self's better part ; Mine eye's clear eye, my dear heart's dearer heart ; My food, my fortune, and my sweet hope's aim. My sole earth's heaven, and my heaven's claim.*^ Luc. All this my sister is, or else should be. Ant. S. Call thyself sister, sweet, for I aim thee Thee will I love, and with thee lead my life : ACT III. SC. n.] THE COMEDY OF EREORS. 373 Thou hast no husband yet, nor I no wife : Give me thy hand. Liic. O, soft, sir, hold you still ; I '11 fetch my sister, to get her good will. \_Exit Luc i ana. Enter, from the house o/* Antipholus o/* Ephesus, Dromio of Syracuse. Ant. S. Why, how now, Dromio? where runn'st thou so fast? Dro. 8. Do you know me, sir? am I Dromio? am I your man? am I myself? Ant. S. Thou art Dromio ; thou art my man ; thou art thy- self. Dro. S. I am an ass, I am a woman's man, and besides myself? Ant. S. What woman's man ? and how besides thyself? Dro. S. Marry, sir, besides myself, I am due to a woman; one that claims me, one that haunts me, one that will have me. Ant. S. What claim lays she to thee ? Bro. S. Marry, sir, such claim as you would lay to your horse ; and she would have me as a beast : not that, I being a beast, she would have me ; but that she, being a very beastly creature, lays claim to me. Ant. S. What is she ? Dro. S. A very reverend body; ay, such a one as a man may not speak of, without he say, sir-reverence I have but lean luck in the match, and yet is she a wondrous fat marriage. Ant. S. How dost thou mean, a fat marriage ? Bro. S. Marry, sir, she 's the kitchen- wench, and all grease ; and I know not what use to put her to, but to make a lamp of her, and run from her by her own light. I warrant, her rags, and the tallow in them, will burn a Poland winter : if she lives till doomsday, she '11 burn a week longer than the whole world.^^ Ant. S. What complexion is she of? JJro. S. Swart, like my shoe,*' but her face nothing like so clean kept. For why she sweats,*" a man may go over shoes in the grime of it. Ant. S. That 's a fault that water will mend. Dro. S. No, sir, 't is in grain ; Noah's flood could not do it. Ant. S. What 's her name : 371 THE COMEDY OE EEEORS. [act m. sc. ii. ])ro. S. Nell, sir ; — ^but her name and three quarters,*" that is, an ell and three quarters, will not measure her from hip to hip. Ant. S. Then she bears some breadth? Dro. S. No longer from head to foot, than from hip to hip : she is spherical, like a g-lobe. I could find out countries in Ant. S. In what part of her body stands Ireland? Dro. 8. INIarry, sir, in her buttocks. I found it out by the bogs. Ant. S. \Miere Scotland ? Dro. S. I found it by the barrenness ; hard, in the palm of the hand.*^ Ant. S. Wliere France ? Dro. S. In her forehead ; arm'd and reverted, making war against her heir.^° A?it.S. Where England? Dro. S. I look'd for the chalky cliffs, but I could find no whiteness in them ; but I guess it stood in her chin, by the salt rheum that ran between France and it. Ant. S. Where Spain? Dro. S. Faith, I saw it not ; but I felt it hot in her breath.'' Ant. S. Wliere America, the Indies ? Dro.S. O, sir, upon her nose, all o'er embellished with rubies, carbuncles, sapphires, declining their rich aspect to the hot breath of Spain ; who sent whole armadoes of carracks'" to be ballas'd at her nose/^ Ant. S. Where stood Belgia, the Netherlands ?'* Dro. S. O, sir, I did not look so low. To conclude, this drudge or diviner" laid claim to me ; call'd me Dromio ; swore, I was assured to her told me what privy marks I had about me, as, the mark of my shoulder, the mole in my neck, the great wart on my left arm, that I, amaz'd, ran from her as a witch : And, I think, if my breast had not been made of faith,'" and my heart of steel. She had transform'd me to a curtail-dog, and made me turn i' the wheel.'' Ant. S. Go, hie thee presently, post to the road ; And if the wind blow any way from shore, I will not harbour in this town to-night. If any bark put forth, come to the mart. Where I will walk, till thou return to me. ACT III. SC. II.] THE COMEDY OF EEHORS. 375 If every one knows ns, and we know none, 'Tis time, I think, to trudge, pack, and be gone. Dro. S. As from a bear a man would run for life, So fly I fron) her that would be my wife. Ant. S. There 's none but witches do inhabit here ; And therefore 't is high time that I were hence. She, that doth call me husband, even my soul Doth for a wife abhor : but her fair sister, Possess'd with such a gentle sovereign grace, Of such enchanting presence and discourse, Ilath almost made me traitor to myself : But, lest myself be guilty to self-wrong,^'^ I '11 stop mine ears against the mermaid's song. Enter Angelo, 2cit/i the chain in his hand. Ang. IMaster Antipholus ? Ant. S. Ay, that 's my name. Ang. I know it well, sir. Lo, here 's the chain ; I thought to have ta'en you at the Porpentine The chain unfinish'd made me stay thus long. Ant. S. What is your will that I shall do with this ? A7ig. What please yourself, sir ; I have made it for you. A7it. S. Made it for me, sir ! I bespoke it not. Ang. Not once, nor twice, but twenty times you have : Go home with it, and please your wife withal ; And soon at supper-time I '11 visit you. And then receive my money for the chain. Ant. S. I pray you, sir, receive the money now, For fear you ne'er see chain nor money more. Ang. You are a merry man, sir ; fare you well. \_Exit. Ant. S. What I should think of this, I cannot tell : But this I think, there 's no man is so vain. That would refuse so fair an offer'd chain. I see, a man here needs not live by shifts, When in the streets he meets such golden gifts I'll to the mart, and there for Dromio stay; If any ship put out, then straight away. [^Exit. [Exit. ^ Enter AntipJioliis of Ephesus. " Perhaps," says Steevens, " throughout tlie play we should read Antiphilus, a name which Shakespeare might have found in some quotations from Pliny. Antiphilus is also one of the heroes in Sydney's Arcadia." ^ To see the making of her carJeanet. A carkanet was a richly ornamented or jewelled necklace, in this instance probably a chain necklace set with precious stones. The term was also occasionally applied to a bracelet ; or to a conspicuous chain-like ornament for the hair. ^'Monile collo suhtimi, a carganet," Calender of Scripture, 1575. ''Collier et autre hague pendant au col, a coller or carknet," Hollyband's Dictionarie, 1593. ""Carcan, a carkanet, or collar of gold, &c., worne about the necke," Cotgrave. ''Fermaillet, a carkanet, or border of gold, &c., such as gentlewomen weare about their heads or hoods," ibid. "And cast away her rings and carknet cleene," Harington's Orlando Purioso, 1591, p. 315, there given as the translation of the Latin line, " abripuit digitis gemmas, colloque monile," which occurs in an epigram by Nevill on the death of Sydney, published in 1578. They have applied carcanets and chaines to their necks, brasselets to their hands, rings to their fingers, spectacles to their eies, paynting to their cheekes, jewels to their eares, tyres and borders of gold to their heads, and garters to their leggs. — Le Roy, Interchangeable Course, 1594. Nay, I'll be matchless for a carkanet, Whose pearls and diamonds, plac'd with ruby rocks, Shall circle this fair neck to set it forth. Histriomastix, or the Player Wliippd, 1610. I'le clasp that neck, where should be set A rich and orient carkanet. Randolph's Poems, 4to. 1638, p. 105. What a shop of guganifles hang upon one backe ? Here, the remainder of a greater worke, the reliques of ancient manor converted to a pearle chaine. There the moity of an ill-husbanded demaine reduced to a carknet. — Brathwaifs English Gentlewoman, fol. 1641. A carkenet most pretious and rare, Pretized with carbuncles which Hebse sent, — The same which Pyrocles did first invent, — TII. 48 378 NOTES TO THE THIED ACT. Did circle twise her sacred neck and brest, In which the Muses and tlie Graces rest. Sir Philip Sydney's Ourania, by N. B., 4to. 1655. Carkanets are very frequently mentioned in our old writers. The following few references may be worth giving : Harington's Orlando Eurioso, 1501, p. 52; Soliman and Perseda, 1599; Antonio's Revenge, 1602; Marston's "What you Will, 1607, sig. D. 4; 52nd Sonnet, spelt carconet in ed. 1609 ; Ben Jonson, ed. Gifford, ii. 315 , Massinger's City Madam ; Du Bartas, by Sylvester, there classed with bracelets ; Middleton, ed. Dyce, ii. 300 ; " a carkanet of pearl," Changes, 1632; "ruble carkanets on the neck," Partheneia Sacra, 8vo., Paris, 1633; Marston's Six Tragedies and Comedies, 1633, sig. P. 5 ; " carquenets stucke full of shining gems," lley wood's Hierarchic of the Blessed Angels, 1635, p. 119 ; " a carkanet of pure round pearl," Davenant's Wits, 1636 ; Hannibal and Scipio, 1637, B. 2 ; verses prefixed to Sheppard's Epigrams, 1651 ; "beset with orient jems, like a rich carcanet," Benlowes' Theophila, 1652 ; Shirley's Honoria and Mammon, 1659, p. 22 ; " a necklace or carqnet of jewels," Howel's Lex. Tet. 1660, sect. 3J<; "huge carkanets of gems," Howard's British Princes, 1669, p. 81; Davenant's Madagascar, Works, ed. 1673, p. 212. Warton unnecessarily suggested that caskinet in Cart\M'ight's Love's Convert, 1651, is an error for carJcanet. Botli terms are found in a very curious enumera- tion of articles relative to female ornament in the play of Lingua, 1607 : " — such doing with their looking-glasses, pinning, unpinning; setting, unsetting; formings, and conformings ; painting blue veins and cheeks ; such stir with sticks and combs, cascanets, dressings, pm-les, faUs, squares, buskes, bodies, scarfs, necklaces, carcanets, rebatos, borders, tires, fans, palisadoes, puffs, ruflFs, cufFs, mufiFs, pusles, fussles, partlets, frislets, ban diets, fillets, croslets, pendulets, amulets, anulets, bracelets — fardingals, kirtlets, buske-points, shoe-ties, &:c." The above representation of a carkanet was selected by Mr. Eairholt from a curious specimen in Venetian w ork of the sixteenth century ; and this species of carkanet wiU be found curiously illustrated by the following extracts from an early inventory of jewels : Item, one title carkanett contayninge xx.tie peeces of golde, with bells at it, and small pearles pendaunt. Item, a carkanett of golde with ix. peeces indented, and viij. rounde peeces, and in the middestof every one of the saied peeces a small diamonde, and in everye one of the peeces indented is fower small rubies sett aboute the diamonde, and at the same carkanett is xxxiij.tie pendaunts with xxxiij.tie litle rubies, and xvj. title diamondes. Item, a title carkanett with Facsimile /rem l/ic Seccru^ /b/iv £d//i/>ff /?iii^lisficd, in/ -/OSZ. S5 The Comedie of Errors. ^AUm Trimus, SdenaT^rma, Enter the Dukf of Ephefuj, with the ro. S. Not on a band, but on a stronger thing ; A chain, a chain : do you not hear it ring ? Adr. What, the chain? Dro. S. No, no, the bell : 't is time that I w^ere gone. It was two ere I left him, and now the clock strikes one. Adr. The hours come back ! that did I never hear. Dro. S. O yes ; If any hour meet a sergeant, 'a turns back for very fear. Adr. As if Time were in debt I how fondly dost thou reason ! Dro. S. Time is a very bankrupt, and owes more than he 's worth, to season. 400 THE COMEDY OE ERUOES. [act IV. sc. II. Nay, he 's a thief too : Have you not heard men say, That Time comes steahng on by night and day? If he be in debt,*^ and theft, and a sergeant in the way, Ilath he not reason to turn back an hour in a day? Enter IiUCIana. Adr. Go, Dromio ; there 's the money, bear it straight ; And bring thy master home immediately. Come, sister; I am press'd down with conceit; Conceit, my comfort, and my injury. [Exeunt. Enter Antipholus o/" Syracuse. Ant. S. There 's not a man I meet but dotli salute me,^* As if I were their well-acquainted friend ;^° And every one doth call me by my name. Some tender money to me, some invite me; Some other give me thanks for kindnesses ; Some olfer me commodities to buy: Even now a tailor call'd me in his shop. And sliow d me silks that he had bought for me. And, therewithal, took measure of my body. Sure, these are but imaginary wiles. And Lapland sorcerers inhabit here. Enter Dromio of Syracuse. Dro. S. blaster, here 's the gold you sent me for: What, have you got rid of the pictiu'C of Old Adam new apparell'd Ant. S. What gold is this? What Adam dost thou mean? Dro. S. Not that Adam that kept the paradise, but that Adam that keeps the prison : he that goes in the calf s-skin that was kiird for the Prodigal he that came behind you, sir, like an evil ano^el, and bid you forsake your liberty. Ant. S. I understand thee not. Dro. S. No ? why, 't is a plain case : he that went like a base-viol, in a case of leather ;^' the man, sir, that, when gentle- men are tired, gives them a bob,^^ and 'rests them ; he, sir, that takes pity on decayed men, and gives them suits of durance;^ he that sets up his rest*^ to do more exploits with his mace, than a morris-pike.*' Ant. S. What ! thou mean'st an officer? Dro. S. Ay, sir, the sergeant of the band ; he, that brings any ACT IV. SC. II.] THE COMEDY OP EEEOES. 401 man to answer it, that breaks his band ! one that thinks a man always going to bed, and says, — God give you good rest ! Ant. S. Well, sir, there rest in your foolery. Is there any ship puts forth to-night? may we be gone ? I)ro. S. Why, sir, I brought you word an hour sinee, that the bark Expedition*^ put forth to-night ; and then were you hind 'red by the serg:eant, to tarry for the hoy Delay: Here are the angels that you sent for, to deliver you.^ Ant. S. The fellow is distract, and so am I ; And here we wander in illusions; Some blessed power deliver us from hence I Ente7' a Courtezan. Coiir. Well met, well met, master Antipholus. I see, sir, you have found the goldsmith now : Is that the chain you promis'd me to-day? Ant. S. Satan, avoid ! I charge thee, tempt me not ! Bro. S. Master, is this mistress Satan? Ant. S. It is the devil. Uro. S. Nay, she is worse, she is the devil's dam and here she conies in the habit of a light wench; and thereof comes, that the wenches say, — God damn me, — that 's as much to say, — God make me a light wench. It is written, they appear to men like angels of light : light is an effect of fire, and fire will burn; err/o, light wenches will burn. Come not near her. Com'. Your man and you are marvellous merry, sir. Will you go with me ? We '11 mend our dinner here.*'' Dro. S. Master, if you do, expect spoon-meat,*^ and bespeak a long spoon. Ant. S. Why, Dromio? Dro. S. Marry, he must have a long spoon,*^ that nnist eat with the devil. Ant. S. Avoid thee, fiend !*" what tell'st thou me of supping? Thou art, as you are all, a sorceress: I conjure thee to leave me, and be gone. Cow\ Give me the ring of mine you had at dinner, Or, for my diamond, the chain you promis'd ; And I '11 be gone, sir, and not trouble you. JJro. S. Some devils ask but the parings of one's nail, A rush, a hair, a drop of blood, a pin,^° A nut, a cherry-stone ; but she, more covetous, Woidd have a chain. III. 51 402 THE COMEDY OE EEEOES. [act IV. sc. II. Master, be wise; an' if you give it her, The devil will shake her ehain, and fright us with it. Cour. I pray you, sir, niy ring, or else the ehain ; I hope you do not mean to eheat me so. A)tt, S. Avaunt, thou witch ! Come, Dromio, let us go. Dro. S. Fly pride, says the peacoek : ^listress, that you know. [Exeunt Antipholus S. and Dkomio S. Cour. Now, out of doubt, Antipholus is mad. Else would he never so demean himself : A ring he hath of mine u orth forty ducats. And for the same he promis'd me a ehain ; Both one and other he denies me now. The reason that I gather he is mad, — Besides this present instance of his rage, — Is a mad tale he told to-day at dinner. Of his own doors being shut against his entrance. Belike, his wife, acquainted with his fits, On purpose shut the doors against his way. ^ly way is now to hie home to his house. And tell his wife, that , being lunatic, lie rush'd into my house, and took perforce ^ly rino- away: This course I fittest choose; For forty ducats is too much to lose. [Ecc'd. Enter Antipholus o/'Ephesus, and a Gaoler. Ant. E. Fear me not, man, I will not break away : I '11 give thee, ere I leave thee, so much money, To warrant thee, as I am 'rested for. iNIy Avife is in a wayward mood to-day ; And will not lightly trust the messenger,"' That I should be attach'd in Ephesus; I tell you, t will sound harshly in her ears. — Enter Dromio o/" Ephesus, icith a ropes end. Here comes my man; I think he brings the money. How now, sir? have you that I sent you for? Dro. E. Here 's that, I warrant you, will pay them all.'' Ant. E. But where 's the money? ])ro. E. Why, sir, I gave the money for the rope. Ant. E. Five hundred ducats, villain, for a rope? Ero. E. I '11 serve you, sir, five hundred at the rate. Ant. E. To what end did I bid thee hie thee home ? ACT IV. SC. II.] THE COMEDY OE EEHOHS. 403 Dro. E. To a rope's end, sir, and to that end am I return'd. Ant. E. And to that end, sir, I will welcome you. [Antipholus heats Mm. Gaol. Good sir, be patient. Dro. E. Nay, 't is for me to be patient; I am in adversity. Gaol. Good, now, hold thy tongue. Dro. E. Nay, rather persuade him to hold his hands. Ant. E. Thou whoreson, senseless villain ! Dro. E. I would I were senseless, sir, that I might not feel your blows. Ant. E. Thou art sensible in nothing but blows, and so is an ass. Dro. E. I am an ass, indeed ; you may prove it by my long- ears. I have served him from the hour of my nativity to this instant, and have nothing at his hands for my service but blows : when I am cold, he heats me with beating ; when I am warm, he cools me with beating ; I am wak'd with it, when I sleep rais'd with it, when I sit ; driven out of doors with it, when I go from home ; welcom'd home with it, w hen I return : nay, I bear it on my shoidders, as a beggar wont her brat; and, I think, when he hath lam'd me, I shall beg with it from door to door. Enter Adriana, Luciana, and the Courtezan icith Pinch. Ant. E. Come, go along; my wife is coming yonder. Dro. E. Mistress, respice finem, respect your end;"" or rather the prophecy, like the parrot, — Beware the rope's end.^^ Ant. E. Wilt thou still talk ? [Beats Mm. Cour. How say you now? is not your husband mad? Adr. His incivility confirms no less. — Good doctor Pinch, you are a conjurer; Establish him in his true sense again. And I will please you what you will demand. Lnc. Alas, how fiery and how sharp he looks Cour. Mark, how he trembles in his extasy Pinch. Give me your hand, and let me feel your pulse. Ant. E. There is ray hand, and let it feel your ear. Pinch. I charge thee, Satan,*'° hous'd within this man. To yield possession to my holy prayers. And to thy state of darkness hie thee straight ; I conjure thee by all the saints in heaven. Ant. E. Peace, doting wizard, peace; I am not mad. 401 THE COMEDY OE EEEOBS. [act IY. sc. II. A(Jr. O, that thou wert not, poor distressed soul! Ant. E. You minion, you, are these your customers?"^ Did this companion w '\t\\ the saffron face'" Revel and feast it at my house to-day, Whilst upon me the guilty doors ^yere shut, And I denied to enter in my house? Adr. O hushand, God doth know you din'd at home. Where 'would you had remain'd until this time, Free from these slanders, and this open shame ! Ant. E. Din'd at home I"^ Thou villain, what sayest thou ? IJro. E. Sir, sooth to say, you did not dine at home. Ant. E. Were not my doors lock'd up, and I shut out ? IJro. E. Perdy, your doors were lock'd, and you shut out. Ant. E. And did not she herself revile me there? Dvo. E. Sans fahle, she herself revil'd you there. Ant. E. Did not her kitchen-maid rail, taunt, and scorn me? Dro. E. Certes, she did ; the kitchen-vestal scorn'd you.°* Ant. E. And did not I in rage depart from thence ? Dw. E. In verity, you did; — my hones hear witness. That since have felt the vigour of his rage. Adr. Is't good to soothe him in these contraries? Pinch. It is no shame; the fellow finds his vein. And, yielding to him, humours well his frenzy. Ant. E. Thou hast suhorn'd the goldsmith to arrest me. Adr. Alas ! I sent you money to redeem you, By Dromio here, who came in haste for it. ft I)w. E. ^loney hy me? heart and ^ood-will you mie-ht, ft f O ft- O But, surely, master, not a rao- of money. ft/ ' Oft/ Ant. E. Went'st not thou to her for a purse of ducats? Adr. He came to me, and I delivered it. Luc. And I am witness with her, that she did. l)ro. E. God and the rope-maker hear me witness, That I was sent for nothing hut a rope ! Pinch. ^listress, both man and master are possess'd; I know it by their pale and deadly looks : They must be bound, and laid in some dark room. Ant. E. Say, wherefore didst thou lock me forth to-day? And wJiy dost thou deny the ba": of "-old ? ft ft' O O Adr. I did not, gentle husband, lock thee forth. Dro. E. And, gentle master, I receiv'd no gold ; But I confess, sir, that we were lock'd out. Adr. Dissembling villain, thou speak'st false in both. ACT IV. SC. n.] THE COMEDY OE EEEOES. 405 Ant. E. Dissembling harlot, thou art false in all ; And art confederate with a damned pack, To make a loathsome abject scorn of me : But with these nails I '11 pluck out these false eyes, That would behold in me this shameful sport. Enter Attendants, ivho hind Antipiiolus E. and Dromio E., after a slight strufjfjle. Adr. O, bind him, bind him, let him not come near me. Pinch. More company; the fiend is strong within him. Luc. Ah me, poor man ! how pale and wan he looks ! Ant. E. What, will yovi murder me? Thou gaoler, thou, I am thy prisoner : wilt thou suffer them To make a rescue ? Gaol. Masters, let him go: He is my prisoner, and you shall not have him. Pinch. Go, bind this man, for he is frantic too. Adr. What wilt thou do, thou peevish officer? Hast thou delight to see a wretched man Do outrage and displeasure to himself? Gaol. He is my prisoner; if I let him go, 'I'he debt he owes will be requir'd of me. Adr. I will discharge thee, ere I go from thee : Bear me forthwith unto his creditor. And, knowing how the debt grows, I will pay it. Good master doctor, see him safe convey'd Home to my house. O most unhappy day^ Arit. E. O most unhappy strumpet Dro. E. Master, I am here enter'd in bond for you. Ant. E. Out on thee, villain ! wherefore dost thou mad me ? Dro. E. Will you be bound for nothing? be mad. Good master; cry, the devil. — Luc. God help, poor souls, how idly do they talk. Adr. Go, bear him hence. — Sister, go you with me. — [Exeunt Pinch and Attendants, with Ant E. and Dro. E. Say now, whose suit is he arrested at ? Gaol. One Angelo, a goldsmith. Do you know him? Adr. I know the man : What is the sum he owes? Gaol. Two hundred ducats. Adr. Say, how grows it due? Gaol. Due for a chain your husband had of him. Adr. He did bespeak a chain for me, but had it not. 406 THE COMEDY OF EREOES. [act iv. sc. ii. Cour. Whenas your husband, all in rage, to-day Came to my house, and took away my ring, — The ring I saw upon his finger now% — Straight after did I meet him with a chain. Adr. It may be so, but I did never see it : — Come, gaoler, bring me where the goldsmith is; I long to know the truth hereof at large. Enter Antipiiolus of Syracuse, with his rapier drawn, and Dromio Syracuse. hue. God, for thy mercy! they are loose again. Adr. And come with naked swords ; let 's call more help, To have them bound again. Gaol. Away, they '11 kill us. [Exeunt Officer, Adriana, and Luciana.'"' Ant. S. I see, these witches are afraid of swords. I)ro. S. She, that would be your wife, now ran from you. Ant. S. Come to the Centaur; fetch our stuff from thence: I long that we were safe and sound aboard. JJro. S. Faith, stay here this night, they will surely do us no harm ; you saw they speak us fair, give us gold : methinks they are such a gentle nation, that, but for the mountain of mad flesl/' that claims marriage of me, I could find in my heart to stav here still, and turn witch. Ant. S. I will not stay to-night for all the town; Therefore away, to get our stuff aboard."^ [Exeunt. Ilotcs to tlje Jfourtlj let ^ A7id want gilders for my voyage. "A Gilder or Gulden, called Charles his Gilder, in silver is worth three shillings ten pence. It hath an imperial head crowned, with Carolus D. G. Horn. Imp. Hisp : Bex, on an other of the same is Carolus D. G. JRoni. Imp. Ilisp. Rex. D. Burg. Com. Flan, on the one side ; and on the other an escochion set on a cross flourished having 1. a Tesse, 2. Semy de Flowers de lis, a Bordure Gobony: 3. Bendy, 4. Lion Bampant, on an Escochion, a Lion Bampant : Inscribed, JJa Mihi Virtnte Con Hostes Tuos. Another of the same, hath an Archducal crown on the escochion. A Gilder, or States Gilder, is worth four shillings three pence. It hath the arms abovesaid with a royal crown, and Order of the Meece, with lace et Justitia, on the other side a Demy King in armour holding of a scepter, inscribed, Bhs. D. G. Hisp. Z. Bex. Bux Bra. 1578," Holme, 1688. ^ Is growing to me hy Antipholus. Growing, that is, accruing. So afterwards, in this act,—" and, knowing how the debt grows, I will pay it." Pope unnecessarily reads, owing. The verb, to grow, is constantly applied to riches, as in Adams' Happines of the Church, 1619, 4to. p. 172. Among my wife and her confederates. " Their confederates," ed. 1623. The obvious error was corrected by Bowe. ^ I buy a thousand pound a year ! I huy a rope ! A rope worth a thousand a year, for your purpose. So, in 3 Henry VI., — "A wisp of straw were worth a thousand crowns, to make this shameless callet know herself." ^ A man is well help up, that trusts to you. Holp up, helped up, assisted, is a phrase stiU in use in the provinces, generally in the ironical expression, — I am finely holp up ! " Fer chance, I will be there as soon as you. Will for shall is very common in works of the Shakespearian period. The editors generally, but unnecessarily, alter it in an instance which occurs in the first act of the Taming of the Shrew. ^ You use this dalliance. DaUiance, that is, trifling. " To dallie, to trifle and toy Avith trifling words," Baret's Alvearie, 1580. GifFord explains it here, — hesitation, delay, — but the above ordinary meaning best suits the context. See the passage quoted in Massinger, ed. Gifford, i. 81. 408 NOTES TO THE FOUETH ACT. Either send the chain, or send me hij some tolcen. That is, hy an ordinary transposition, send some token by me, or send some token whereby it may be known that I am a true messeng-er. See tlie present vohime, p. 193. Pope unnecessarily alters either to or, in misapprehension of the metrical regulation of the line. " Fie, now yon run this humovr out of I)reath. This is a proverbial phrase, as noticed by Mr. Collier. Day wrote a comedy entitled, Humour out of Breath, ^io. Lond. 1G08. Enter Dromio of Syracuse. "Enter Dromio Sira. from the Bay," direction in ed. 1623, the hm the being in the Koman character, a slight distinguishing mark of the first folio, the word the being wholly in italics in ed. 1633. And then, sir, she hears away. "And then," ed. 1623; "then," ed. 1632. Steevens retains and, and omits she ; both changes having been suggested by an unnecessary desire to improve the metre. ^' TJie oil, the halsamnm, and aqua-vita. Aqua-vita' hath his denomination, in that it recovereth and maintaineth life : The common manner of making it is to distill it out of the lees of wine, or of the lees of strong ale and wine together, by adding thereto lycorice, annis-seeds, and graines ; but this common vendible Aqua vita, both in regard of the grosse substances from whence it ariseth, as also of the rude manner of preparing and distilling it, may more rightly be named Aqua mortis, the water of death; for it causeth more hurt than commodity to them that use it. — Vernier s Via Uecta ad Vitam Lonijam, 1637. ^Jliy, thou 'peevish sheep. Peevish, that is, silly, as in several other places. Compare the following lines in Breton's Pilgrimage to Paradise, 1592, — ^Vhich pilgrimage is not, as poets faine, Nor jiiei'ish people blindely doe conceive. The play on the words sheep and ship has been already noticed in the notes to the Two Gentlemen of Yerona, vol. ii. p. tt2. You sent me for a ropers end as soon. Capell adds, " a rope !," at the commencement of tliis line, for the sake of the metre ; and Steevens reads, — " you sent me, sir." Thafs cover d o'er v:ith Turhish tapestry. The old inventories contain numerous notices of articles of furniture ornamented bv Turkey work, which seems to have been much esteemed. " Six pieces of tapestrey, six chcyres of Tm'key worke, twelve stooles of Turkey worke ; twelve cusheons of Turkey worke ; eight old stooles of Turkey worke ; one Turkey worke cushion," Inventory of the Goods of the Countess of Leicester, 1634-5, ]\IS. Where Bowsahel did claim me for her husband. Dow^sabel, douce et belle, a favorite name for a rustic girl. It occurs in several old plavs and ballads. " To cast away as pretty a Dowsabel as an chould chance to see in a suunner's day," London Prodigal. See also Jonson's Alchemist, AVorks, ed. Gifford, iv. 102 ; and Drayton's Shepherd's Garland, 1593, — NOTES TO THE EOUETH ACT. 409 He liad, as antique stories tell, A daughter cleaped Dowsabell, a may den fay re and free : And for she was her fathers heire, Full well she was ycond the leyre, of mickle curtesie. Mighfst tJiou perceive austerely in his eye. Heath (Eevisal, 1765, p. 199) unnecessarily reads, — perceive assuredly, and Capell thinks the last word may be an error for, sincerely. Of his heart's meteors tilting in his face. "Oh, his," ed. 1623, corrected in ed. 1632. "A singular metaphor, expressive of the flushings that joy brings into the face of a lover, in discourse with his mistress. The meteors meant here are those frequent meteors, the Aurora horealis ; out of which, superstition has often coin'd armies, and knights tilting in field, whereof they have some little resemblance in their coruscations and dartings," Capell. The allusion, observes Steevens, is more clearly explained by the following comparison in the second book of Paradise Lost : As when, to warn proud cities, war appears Wag'd in the troubled sky, and armies rush To battle in the clouds, before each van Prick forth the aery knights, and couch their spears. Till thickest legions close ; with feats of arms From either end of heaven the welkin burns. First, he denied yon had in him no right. The use of an unnecessary negative is exceedingly common in wTiters of the period. " You may deny that you were not the cause," Eichard III. " Not that I deny that men should not be good husbands," Instructions of the Earl of Northumberland, 1609. From Malone. ^° Stigmatical in mahing, worse in mind. Stigmatical in making, that is, observes Dr. Johnson, marked or stigmatized by nature with deformity, as a token of his vicious disposition ; or, perhaps, merely, — deformed in body, and worse deformed in mind. " Wilt thou not, thou stigma- ticall rogue," Terence in English, ed. 1614. " If you spy any man that hath a look stigmatically drawn, like to a fury's," Decker's Wonder of a Kingdom, 1655, ap. Steevens. The word is used metaphorically in the Blind Beggar of Alexandria, 1598, — " a most dangerous and stigmatical humour." Taylor, the Water-Poet, speaks of, " contaminous, pestiferous, preposterous, stygmaticall Slavonians, slubberdegullions . Far from her nest the lapicing cries atvay. " Not witli Timoclea you mean, wherein you resemble the lapwing, who crieth most where her nest is not ; and so, to lead me from espying your love for Cam- paspe, you cry Timoclea," Lilly's Campaspe, 1584. " O you winged lapwings, farthest cry, when we come neerest to 't," History of the Two Maids of More- clacke, 1609. " You resemble the lapwing, who crieth most where her nest is not," Lingua, 1607. " False, lapwing cries," Jonson's Poetaster. " The lapwing cries most, furthest from her nest," Eay's English Proverbs, ed. 1678, p. 256. AUusions to this are exceedingly common. We were many times in a wood, and indeed seldome out, yet it may be this sir dealt like a lapwing with us, and cryed furthest of the nest. — Boideys Search for Money, 1609, III, 52 410 NOTES TO THE FOURTH ACT. You fly still, quoth ]\Iarpesia, from my demand, playing like the lapwinj^ that cryeth farthest from her nest. — Alcida Greenes Metamor pilosis, 1G17. The lapwing hath a piteous, mournful cry, And sings a sorrowful and heavy song ; But yet she 's full of craft and subtilty. And weepest most being farthest from her young. The Phccnix and Turtle, ap. Eicliardson. Well, here is Stellio ; He talke of other matters, and flie from the marke I shoot at, lapwing-like flying far from the place where I nestle. — Lilly s Mother Bomhie. This expression seems to be proverbial, I have met with it in many of the old comick writers. Greene, in his Second Part of Coney-catching, 1592, says : "But again to our priggers, who, as before I said — cry Kith the lapwing farthest from her nest, and from their place of residence where their most abode is." Nash, speaking of Gabriel Harvey, says — he witlidraweth men, lapmng-lihe, from his nest, as much as might be." — Stecvens. ^- Stceet now, mahe haste. The word sweet is here used rather in the idea of supplication, than with the intention of any great familiarity. The Perkins MS. reads swift. " Sweet now," and, "good now," &c., were common phrases. A devil in an everlasting garment hath him. In an everlasting garment, that is, a garment made of the stulf called ever- lasting or perpetuana, which was much worn by sergeants. " Were 't not for my smooth, soft, silken citizen, I would quit this transitory trade, get me an ever- lasting robe, sear up my conscience, and turn sergeant''' Woman Hater, 1G07, Beaumont and Eletcher, ap. Dyce, i. 05. "An everlasting bale, hell in trunk- hose," Hump Songs. The Perkins MS. adds fell at the end of this line, and also inserts a line after the next one, — " Who has no touch of mercy, cannot feel." These stupendous alterations of the original text have been made in misapprehen- sion of the author's intention, the first hne of the speech evidently rhyming with the previous one, so that the second and third (if any) should be made to rhyme ; but the fact is, as previously observed, there is no necessity for these species of emendations, suo-gested by the ordinary license of blank-verse being mixed with rhyme, in the same way that Shakespeare so frequency inserts short speeches of prose in the midst of verse. The onely negromancer to conjure downe this devill is (if he begins to roare or spit fire) some everlasting constable, or new-elected beadle, that desires to be knowne a man in his office, or rather some justice of peace, who can seldorae or never make him quiet, while they have charm'd them into the small circumference of a Compter. — Meltons Astrolog aster, 1620. A fiend, a fairy , pitiless and rough. "A Feind, a Fairie," ed. 1G23. The emendation [firy) is by Theobald, and is here adopted in consideration of Dromio's thoughts, throughout this speech, referring to hell ; for although there undoubtedly were malevolent fairies in the old English mythology, yet they are not mentioned as under the control of the devil, or as inhabiting the infernal regions. There is a curious parallel description in Fennor's Compters Common-wealtli, 1G17, in a notice of one of the gaolers, — " This lumpe of man's flesh convayed me up a paire of staires, and so to a doore, where another //^ry like liimselfe sate, telling me that, if I meant to have entrance there, I must pay my fees, or else 1 could have no farther passage that way." It NOTES TO THE EOUETH ACT. 411 should not be forgotten that the same speaker, in the second act, calls Ephesus the fauy land ; but, on the whole, his present speech may rather be considered as referring exclusively to his emblematical character of a prison. Since writing the above note, I have met with passages in other works that confirm the original reading ; but the specious reasoning by which Theobald's suggestion is sustained may be allowed to remain as a warning to others, as it is now to myself, to be more than ever tenacious of interfering with the old text. In the present instance, after a long consideration of the subject, and having special regard to the bearing of the dialogue, I had accepted the emendation as probable, and as greatly superior to the reading of the first folio. The first of the following extracts is nearly sufficient in itself to place the matter beyond a doubt. You dastards of the night and Erybus, Eiends, Fairies, hags that fight in beds of Steele, Eange through this armie with your iron whips, Drive forward to this deed this Christian crew. And let me triumph in the tragedie. The Battell of Alcazar, fought in Barbarie, 1594. Mr. Dyce here suggests that furies may be the true reading, but the passage in Shakespeare and the present one mutually support each other. Amph. Eee'st thou infernall hagge, or fiend incarnate, I conjure thee. Jup. Friends, I appeale to you : When have you knowne me mad ? when rage and rave ? Shall my humanity and mildnesse thus Be recompenst ? to be out-brav'd, out-fac'd. By some deluding fairy? — Heyicood's Silver Age, 1613. But God above soone sendeth Michaell downe, . AVho binds Semixa with a sacred frowne, Chaines him in hell, and all his of-scum race Ties to the hils as fairy goblins base. Peyton s Glasse of Time, 1623, Second Age, p. 59. A hach-friend, a shoulder-clapper. A back-friend, a secret enemy, Dromio playing on the word, which alludes also to the sergeant's mode of arrest. "Adversaries and back-frendes," Hall, Henry VII. f. 1. " I have admonished thy backe-friends to use the according to thy desert," Eomatius on Painting, by Haydock, 1598. " Iniiiiico, an enimie, a foe, an adversarie, a back-friend," Florio's Worlde of Wordes, 1598. A shoulder-clapper was a common cant term for a sergeant or bailiff". "And fear none but these same shoulder-clappers," Satiromastix, ap. Hawkins, p. 159. The sergeant, in the Wandering Jew telling Fortunes to Englishmen, 1640, p. 57, says, — " all I desire at your hands is to know whether by my place (my trade of shoulder-clapping) I shall ever come to any good or no." The designation con- tinued long in use, instances of it occurring in Poor Robin's Almanacs for the years 1738 and 1740. The thoght of my arrest did not so much afi^right me as the countenances of those peuter-button'd shoulder-clapping catch-poles that seazed on my body. — The Compter s Common-ivealth, 1617. If you can (either for love or money) provide your selfe a lodging by the water side : for above the conveniencie it brings to shun shoulder-clapping, and to ship away your cockatrice betimes in the morning, it addes a kind of state unto you, to 412 NOTES TO THE FOURTH ACT. be carried from tlience to the staires of your play-house. — Decker s Gals llorne- Booke, 1G09. -° The passages of alleys, creeks, and narrow lands. Lands seems to he here merely used in the sense of lanes, and is possibly the latter word altered for the sake of the rhyme. In the North of England, the long spaces between furrows in a ploughed field are termed lands, and it is by no means impossible that the word was applied, in Shakespeare's time, as synonymous with lanes. According to j\Ir. Collier, Lord Ellesmere's copy of the first folio has lans, but the letter d was no doubt merely omitted accidentally. The three copies in my possession read lands, but Malone's copy (Shakespeare, ed. 1821, iv. 225) also appears to have had lans. The alteration of words for the sake of rhyme, especially the alteration of the final letter to d, was not unusual in poems of the sixteenth century. Thus, in the extremely rare poem, the Historic of Violenta and Didaco, published in 157G, — Perchaunce she is not of haggard's kind, Nor hart so hard is bend, But thy distylling teares in fine May move her to relend. A hound that runs counter, and yet draws dry-foot well. Hounds are said to hunt counter, when they hunt backward the way the chase came : to run counter, when they mistake the direction of their game. ''Contre- pied, that which we call counter in hunting," Cotgrave. " The lord AVillmott was resolved to fy counter towards London," Account of the Escape of Charles II. " He can shew you where to hunt, when the hounds goe counter, how to breake the fault, follow the game," Rich Cabinet furnished with Varietie of Excellent Discriptions, 1G16. Dromio is of course playing on this meaning of the word, in allusion to the counter or prison, which was a frequent subject of jocularity. " We sale merrily of him who hath been in the Counter, or such like places of prison : He can sing his counter-tenor very well. And in anger we say, I will make you sing a counter-tenor for this geare : meaning imprisonment," Baret. There is another joke on the same word in the Blacke Booke, 1604, Middleton, ed. Dyce, v. 540, The comparison of a sergeant to a hunting-dog occurs in the AYorkes of Taylor, the Water-Poet, 1G30,— The Serjeant I before the jaylor name. Because he is the dog that hunts the game : He worries it, and brings it to the toyle. And then the jaylor lives upon the spoyle. To draw dry-foot, that is to follow the game by the scent of the foot. " Nay, if he smell nothing but papers, I care not for his dry-foot hunting," Dumb Knight, 1G08. Harrison, in his Description of England, p. 230, mentions " abloudhound, whose office is to follow the fierce, and now and then to pursue a theefe or beast by his drie foot." The phrase is common, and a few references will sufiice ; Ben Jonson, ed. Gifford, i. 52; Scot's Philomythie, 1616; Ram Alley, 1636; "it loves to hunt dry-foot, and can sent a traine in no ground so well as the City," Decker's English Villanies, 1638; Crowne's Country Wit, ed. 1693, p. 6. Instead of licking, hee's a biting whelpe. And rancles most, when he most seemes to helpe, And he hunts dry foot ; never spends his throat. Tin he has caught his game, and then his note NOTES TO THE FOURTH ACT. 413 Luis him asleepe fast in extortions bands, There leaves him, takes his fee o'th goods and lands. All the Workes of Taylor the Water-Poet, 1630. The next ingredient of a Diurnall is plots, horrible plots ; which with wonderfuU sagacity it hints dry-foot, while they are yet in their causes, before Materia prima can put on her smock. How many such fits of the mother have troubled the kingdome, and (for all Sir Walter Earle looks like a man- midwife) not yet delivered of so much as a cushion ? But actors must have their properties ; and, since the stages were voted downe, the onely play-house is at AVestminster. — Cleaveland's Character of a London Diurnall, 1647. Thou art like a dry-foot-dog, that (out of a whole heard of deer) singles out one, whose sent he only followes, and tires himself to catch that, when he might have twenty in the mean time. — The Miser, 1672. A hound that draws dryfoot, means what is usually called a blood-hound, trained to follow men by the scent. The expression occurs in an Irish Statute of "''•e 10th of William III, for preservation of the game, which enacts that all pe . ons, licensed for making and training up of setting dogs, shall, in every two ■f' i,rs, during the continuance of their license, be compelled to train up, teach, and uake, one or more hounds to hunt on dryfoot. — M. Mason. One that, hefore the judgment, carries poor souls to hell. The name of hell was given to several of the dungeons of the prisons, and, according to Steevens, to an obscure dungeon in any of our prisons, probably to the very worst. Another dungeon, called the hole, is mentioned in Taylor's Praise and Vertue of a Jayle, 1623, and in various other works ; and it would seem from a passage in Massinger's City Madam, that the hole was the dungeon next superior, in point of comfort, to the hell. A sergeant, in the Overbury Characters, ed. 1628, is described as " a divell made somtimes out of one of the twelve Companies, and does but study the part and rehearse it on earth, to bee perfect when he comes to act it in hel; that is his stage." Fuller, in his Worthies, ed. 1662, mentions a place under the Exchequer Chamber called Hell, adding, — " 1 am informed that formerly this place was appointed a prison for the King's debtors, who never were freed thence until they had paid their uttermost due demanded of them." The name of this place survived up to a very recent period. "Ask any how such news I tell, of Wood-street's hole, or Poultrey's hell," Counter Eat, ed. 1693. Before judgment, that is, on what is called mesne process : when a man is arrested after judgment, he is said to be taken in execution. Shakespeare is here using technical language. — Malone. Meum toke a chamber in Theeving-lane ; Tuum, a little darke roome that had but one window, no bigger then a cat might creepe through, hard by Hell, neare to the upper end of Westminster Hall. — A Merry Discourse of Meum and Tuum, 4to. Loud. 1639. An account of the local situation of hell may be found in the Journals of the House of Commons, vol. x. p. 83, as the Commons passed through it to King William and Queen Mary's Coronation, and gave directions concerning it. In Queen Elizabeth's time the office of Clerk of the Treasury was situated there, as I find in Sir James Dyer's Reports, fol. 245, A, where mention is made of "one Christopher Hole, Secondary del Treasurie, et un auncient attorney and practiser in le office del Clerke del Treasurie al Hell." — Vaillant. He is ''rested on the case. The verb is here generally, perhaps unnecessarily, printed with a mark of contraction. "I reste, as a sergente dothe a prisoner, or his goodes,y«>^ Well SiracufiuM; fay in brief the caufe Why ihou depancdfi from thy native home ? And for what caufe thou camTt to Ephefus f Mer. A heavier task could not have been impos'd, Then Icofpeak my grief unfpeakabic: Yet chat the world may witndTe, that my end Was wrought by nature, not by vile offence, He uctcr what my forrow gives me leave. In Sjracufa was I born , and wed Unto a woman , happy but for me • And by me coo , had not our hap been bad : With her I liv'd in joy, our wealth increaft By profperous voyages I often made To Epidamftm, till my faet us come in, that Ave may hind him fast. And bear him home for his recovery. Any. I knew, he was not in his perfect wits. Mer. I am sorry now, that I did draw on him. AI)h. How long hath this possession held the man? Adr. This week he hath been heavy, sour, sad. And much different from the man he was; But, till this afternoon, liis passion Ne er brake into extremity of rao-e. Ahh. Hath he not lost much wealth by wreck of sea? Buried some dear friend? Hath not else his eye Stray 'd his affection in unlawful love? A sin prevaihng much in youthful men. Who give their eyes the liberty of gazing. Which of these sorrows is he subject to? Adr. To none of these, except it be the last ; Namely, some love, that drew him oft from home. Ahh. You should for that have reprehended hini. Adr. Why, so I did. Abh. Ay, but not rough enough. ACT v.] THE COMEDY OF EHHORS. Adv. As roughly as my modesty would let me. Abb. Haply, in private. Adr. And in assemblies too. Abb. Ay, but not enough. Adr. It was the copy of our conference f In bed, he slept not for my urging it ; At board, he fed not for my urging it ; Alone, it was the subject of my theme; In company, I often glanced it; Still did I teU him, it was vild and bad. Abb. And thereof came it that the man was mad: The venom clamours of a jealous woman Poison more deadly than a mad dog's tooth. It seems, his sleeps were hinder'd by thy railing And thereof comes it, that his head is light. Thou say'st, his meat was sauc'd with thy upbraidin Unquiet meals make ill digestions. Thereof the raging fire of fever bred ; And what 's a fever but a fit of madness ? Thou sayest, his sports were hinder'd by thy brawls Sweet recreation barr'd, what doth ensue. But moody and dull Melancholy, Kinsman to grim and comfortless Despair, And, at her heels,^ a huge infectious troop Of pale distemperatures,^ and foes to life ? In food, in sport, and life-preserving rest To be disturb'd, would mad or man, or beast : The consequence is then, thy jealous fits Have scar'd thy husband from the use of wits. Luc. She never reprehended him but mildly, When he demean'd himself rough, rude, and wildly. Why bear you these rebukes, and answer not? Adr. She did betray me to my own reproof. — Good people, enter, and lay hold on him. Abb, No, not a creature enters in my house. Adr. Then, let your servants bring my husband foi Abb. Neither; he took this place for sanctuary, And it shall privilege him from your hands, Till I have brought him to his wits again. Or lose my labour in assaying it. Adr. I will attend my husband, be his nurse. Diet his sickness, for it is my office, III. 120 THE COMEDY OE EEROES. [act \. And will have no attorney bnt myself ; And therefore let me have him home with me. Jbb. Be patient: for I will not let him stir, Till I have us'd the approved means I have, AYitli wholesome syrups, drugs, and holy prayers, To make of him a formal man again :^ It is a branch, and parcel of mine oath,^° A charitable duty of my order; Therefore depart, and leave him here with me. Adr. I will not hence, and leave my husband here ; And ill it doth beseem your holiness. To separate the husband and the wife. Abb. Be quiet, and depart; thou shalt not have him. [Exit Abbess. Lkc. Comj^lain unto the duke of this indignity. Adr. Come, go; I will fall prostrate at his feet. And never rise until my tears and prayers Have won his grace to come in person hither. And take perforce my husband from the abbess. 3Iei'. By this, I think, the dial points at five : Anon, I 'm sure, the duke himself in person Comes this way to the melancholy vale,^' — The place of depth, and sorry execution, Behind the ditches of the abbey here. An(/. Upon what cause ? 3Ier. To see a reverend Syracusian merchant, Who put unluckily into this bay. Against the laws and statutes of this town, Beheaded publicly for his offence. Aug. See where they come ; we will behold his death. Luc. Kneel to the duke, before he pass the abbey. Enter Duke, attended; iEGEOX, hare-headed ; with the Headsman and other Officers. Duhe. Yet once again proclaim it publicly. If any friend wiU pay the sum for him, He shall not die, so much we tender him. Adr. Justice, most sacred duke, against the abbess ! Dfike. She is a virtuous and a reverend lady ; It cannot be that she hath done thee wrong. Adr. ^lay it please your grace, Antipholus, my husband, — ^yho I made lord of me and all I had,^* ACT v.] THE COMEDY OF EHEORS. 427 At your important letters/^ — this ill day A most outrageous fit of madness took him ; That desp'rately he hurried through the street, — With him his bondman, all as mad as he, — Doing displeasure to the citizens By rushing in their houses, bearing thence Rings, jewels, anything his rage did like. Once did I get him bound, and sent him home; Whilst to take order^'' for the wrongs I went, That here and there his fury had committed. Anon, I wot not by what strong escape,^^ He broke from those that had the guard of him, And, with his mad attendant and hi m self, Each one with ireful passion, with drawn swords. Met us again, and, madly bent on us, Chas'd us away; till, raising of more aid. We came again to bind them : then they fled Into this abbey, whither we pursu'd them; And here the abbess shuts the gates on us. And will not suffer us to fetch him out, Nor send him forth, that we may bear him hence. Therefore, most gracious duke, with thy command. Let him be brought forth, and borne hence for help. Duke. Long since, thy husband serv'd me in my wars ; And I to thee engag'd a prince's word, When thou didst make him master of thy bed. To do him all the grace and good I could. — Go, some of you, knock at the abbey-gate. And bid the lady abbess come to me ; I will determine this, before I stir. E^iter a Servant. Serv. O mistress, mistress, shift and save yourself I My master and his man are both broke loose,'" Beaten the maids a-roAV,~*^ and bound the doctor. Whose beard they have sing'd off" with brands of Are ;'' And ever as it blaz'd, they threw on him Great pails of puddled mire to quench the hair My master preaches patience to him, and the while His man with scissors nicks him like a fool:" And, sure, unless you send some present help, Between them they will kill the conjurer. 42S THE COMEDY OE EEEOES. [act v. Ach'. Peace, fool ; thy master and his man are here ; And that is false, thou dost report to us. Sei'v. ^listress, upon my life, I tell you true ; I have not hreath'd almost, since I did see it. lie cries for you, and vows, if he can take you. To scorch your face, and to disfigure you:"* [Crj/ icithin. ITark, hark, I hear him; Mistress, fly, he gone. Duke. Come, stand hy me, fear nothing : Guard with halherds. Adr. Ah me, it is my hushand I Witness you, That he is horne ahout invisible: Even now we hous'd him in the abbey here; And now he's there, past thought of human reason ! Enter Antipholus and Dromio of Ephesus. Ant. E. Justice, most gracious duke ! Oh, grant me justice Even for the service that long since I did thee. When I bestrid thee in the wars,"'' and took Deep scars to save thy life ; even for the blood That then I lost for thee, now grant me justice. jEye. Unless the fear of death doth make me dote,"' I see my son Antipholus, and Dromio. [Aside. Ant. E. Justice, sweet prince, against that woman there. She whom thou gav'st to me to be my wife; That hath abused and dishonour'd me. Even in the strength and height of injury! Beyond imagination is the wrong. That she this day hath shameless thrown on me. DuJxe. Discover how, and thou shalt find me just. Ant. E. This day, great duke, she shut the doors upon me. While she with harlots"^ feasted in my house. Duke. A grievous fault: Say, woman, didst thou so? Adr. No, my good lord ; — myself, he, and my sister. To-day did dine together : So befall my soul. As this is false he burdens me withal ! Luc. Ne'er may I look on day, nor sleep on night. But she tells to your highness simple truth! An(/. O perjur'd woman ! they are both forsworn : In this the madman justly chargeth them. Ant. E. ^ly liege, I am advised what I say; Neither disturbed with the effect of wine. Nor heady-rash, provok'd with raging ire,"^ Albeit my wrongs might make one wiser mad. ACT v.] THE COMEDY OE EEHOHS. 429 This woman lock'd me out this day from dinner : That goldsmith there, were he not pack'd with her, Could witness it, for he was with me then ; Who parted with me to go fetch a chain, Promising to bring it to the Porpentine, Where Balthazar and I did dine together. Our dinner done, and he not coming thither, I went to seek him : in the street I met him ; And in his company, that gentleman. There did this perjur'd goldsmith swear me down. That I this day of him receiv'd the chain. Which, God he knows, I saw not: for the which. He did arrest me with an officer. I did obey; and sent my peasant home For certain ducats : He with none return'd. Then fairly I bespoke the officer, To go in person with me to my house. By th' way we met my wife, her sister, and a rabble more Of vild confederates; along with them They brought one Pinch, a hungry lean-fac'd villain, A mere anatomy, a mountebank,^" A thread-bare juggler, and a fortune-teller; A needy, hollo w-ey'd, sharp-looking wretch, A living dead man this pernicious slave, Forsooth, took on him as a conjurer, And gazing in mine eyes, feeling my pulse, And with no face, as 't were, outfacing me. Cries out, I was possess'd : then all together They fell upon me, bound me, bore me thence; And in a dark and dankish vault at home^^ There left me and my man, both bound together; Till gnawing with my teeth my bonds in sunder, I gain'd my freedom, and immediately Ran hither to your grace; whom I beseech To give me ample satisfaction. For these deep shames, and great indignities. Any. My lord, in truth thus far I witness with him. That he din'd not at home, but was lock'd out. Duke. But had he such a chain of thee, or no ? Any. He had, my lord: and when he ran in here. These people saw the chain about his neck. Mer. Besides, I will be sworn, these ears of mine 430 THE COMEDY OE EEEOES. [act v. Heard you confess you had the chain of him, After you first forswore it on the mart, And, thereupon, I drew my sword on you ; And then you fled into this abbey here. From whence, I think, you are come by miracle. Ant. E. I never came wdthin these abbey walls. Nor ever didst thou draw thy sword on me; I never saw the chain, so help me heaven ! And this is false a'Ou burden me withal Dttke. Why, what an intricate impeach is this!^' I think, you all have drunk of Circe's cup.^'' If here you hous'd him, here he would have been : If he were mad, he would not plead so coldly : You say, he din'd at home; the goldsmith here Denies that saying: — Sirrah, what say you? Dro. E. Sir, he din'd with her there, at the Porpentine. Cour. He did; and from my finger snatched that ring. Jnt. E. 'Tis true, my liege, this ring I liad of her. Duke. SaAv'st thou him enter at the abbey here? Cour. As sure, my liege, as I do see your grace. Vuke. Why, this is strange : — Go call the abbess hither. I think you are all mated, or stark mad. \_Exit Attendant. jE(/e. Most mighty duke, vouchsafe me speak a word; Haply, I see a friend will save my life. And pay the sum that may deliver me. Duke. Speak freely, Syracusian, what thou wilt. jE(/e. Is not your name, sir, call'd Antipholus? And is not tliat your bondman Dromio ? Dro. E. Within this hour I was his bondman, sir, But he, I thank him, gnaw'd in two my cords: Now am I Dromio, and his man, unbound. jEf/e. I am sure, jou both of you remember me. Dro. E. Ourselves w e do remember, sir, by you ; For lately we were bound, as you are now. You are not Pinch's patient, are you, sir? yE(/e. Why look you strange on me ? you know me well. Ant. E. I never saw you in my life, till now. jEf/e. Oh ! grief hath chang'd me, since you saw me last ; And careful hours, with Time's deformed hand,^' Have w ritten strange defeatures in my face:^^ But tell me yet, dost thou not know^ mv voice? Ant. E. Neither. ACT v.] THE COMEDY OE EEUORS. 431 Mye. Dromio, nor thou? Dro. E. No, trust me, sir, nor I. jEge. I am sure thou dost. Dro. E. Ay, sir, but I am sure I do not and whatsoever a man denies, you are now bound to beheve him. ^ge. Not know my voice ! O, time's extremity! Hast thou so craek'd and spHtted my poor tongue. In seven short years, that here my only son Knows not my feeble key of untun'd cares Though now this grained face of mine'^ be hid In sap-consuming winter's drizzled snow/^ And all the conduits of my blood froze up, Yet hath my night of life some memory, My wasting lamps some fading glimmer left. My dull deaf ears a little use to hear: All these old witnesses*^^ (I cannot err) Tell me, thou art my son Antipholus. Ant. E. I never saw my father in my life. jEge. But seven years since, in Syracusa, boy, Thou know'st we parted: but, perhaps, my son, Thou sham'st to acknowledge me in misery. Ant. E. The duke, and all that know me in the city, Can witness with me that it is not so; I ne'er saw Syracusa in my life. Duke. I tell thee, Syracusian, twenty years Have I been patron to Antipholus, During which time he ne'er saw Syracusa : I see, thy age and dangers make thee dote. Enter the Abbess, icith Antipholus o/* Syracuse, and Dromio of Syracuse. Abh. Most mighty duke, behold a man much wrong'd. [All gather to see them. Adr. I see two husbands, or mine eyes deceive me. Duke. One of these men is genius to the other; And so of these: Which is the natural man. And which the spirit? Who deciphers them? Dro. S. I, sir, am Dromio ; command him away Dro. E. 1, sir, am Drouiio ; pray, let me stay. Ant. S. iEgeon, art thou not? or else his ghost? Dro. S. O, my old master ! who hath bound him here? 432 THE COMEDY OE ERKOilS. [act v. Abb. Whoever bound him, I will loose his bonds, And gain a husband by his liberty: Speak, old ^geon, if thou be'st the man That hadst a wife once call'd /Emilia, That bore thee at a burden two fair sons: 0, if thou be'st the same /Egeon, speak, xVnd speak unto the same iEmilia! JEge. If I dream not, thou art iEmilia:'" If thou art she, tell me, where is that son That floated with thee on the fatal raft? Abb. By men of Epidamnum, he, and I, And the tw in Dromio, all were taken up : But, by and by, rude fishermen of Corinth Bv force took Dromio and my son from them, And me they left with those of Epidamnum : What then became of them, I cannot tell ; 1, to this fortune that you see me in. Duke. Why, here begins his morning story right/^ These two Antipholus's, these two so like. And these tw o Dromios, one in semblance, — Besides her urging of her wreck at sea,*" — These are the parents to these children, Which accidentally are met together. Antipholus, thou cam'st from Corinth first? Ant. S. No, sir, not I ; I came from Syracuse. Duke. Stay, stand apart ; I know not which is which. Ant. E. I came from Corinth, my most gracious lord. Dro. E. And I with him. Ant. E. Brought to this tow^n by that most famous warrior, Duke ^lenaphon, your most renowned uncle. Adr. Which of you two did dine with me to-day? Ant. S. I, gentle mistress. Aclr. And are not you my husband? A?it. E. No, I say ' nay' to that. A?it. S. And so do I, yet did she call me so ; And this fair gentlewoman, her sister here, Did call me brotlier : — What I told you then, I hope I shall have leisure to make good. If this be not a dream I see and hear. Anr/. That is the chain, sir, which you had of me Ant. S. I think it be, sir; I deny it not. Ant. E. And you, sir, for this chain arrested me. ACT v.] THE COMEDY OE EEROES. 433 Ang. I think, I did, sir; I deny it not. Adr. I sent you money, sir, to be your bail. By Dromio; but I think, he brought it not. Dro. E. No, none by me. Ant. S. This purse of ducats I receiv'd from you. And Dromio my man did bring them me : I see, we still did meet each other's man, And I was ta'en for him, and he for me ; And thereupon these Errors are arose. Ant. E. These ducats pawn I for my father here. Duke. It shall not need ; thy father hath his life. Coiir. Sir, I must have that diamond from you. Ant. E. There, take it ; and nmch thanks for my good cheer. Ahh. Renowned duke, vouchsafe to take the pains To go with us into the abbey here. And hear at large discoursed all our fortunes : — And all that are assembled in this place, That by this sympathized one day's error. Have suffer'd wrong, go, keep us company, And we shall make full satisfaction. — Twenty-five years have I but gone in travail*^ Of you, my sons ; and, till tliis present hour. My heavy burden ne'er delivered.^^ — The duke, my husband, and my children both, And you, the calendars of their nativity,*^ Go to a gossips' feast, ^° and go with me; After so long grief, such nativity!'^ Duke. With all my heart, I '11 gossip at this feast. [Exeunt Duke, Abbess, ^geon, Courtezan, Merchant, Angelo, mid Attendants. Dro. S. blaster, shall I fetch your stuff from shipboard ? Ant. E. Dromio, what stuff of mine hast thou embark'd Dro. S. Your goods, that lay at host, sir, in the Centaur. Ant. S. lie speaks to me ; I am your master, Dromio : Come, go with us ; we '11 look to that anon : Embrace thy brother there, rejoice with him.'^ [Exennt nil hut the tico Dromios. Dro. S. There is a fat friend at your master's house, That kitchen'd me for you to-day at dinner;'^ She now shall be my sister, not my wife. III. 55 434 THE COMEDY OE EREOES. [act v. Dro, E. Methinks, you are my glass, and not my brother: I see, by you, I am a sweet-fac'd youth. Will you walk in to see their gossiping? Dro. S. Not I, sir; you are my elder. Uro. E. That 's a question: how sliall we try it? Dro. S. We '11 draw cuts'* for the senior: till then, lead thou first. IJro. E. Nay, then, thus: We came into the world, like brother and brother: And now let 's go hand in hand, not one before another. [Exemif. ^ His word might hear my wealth at any time. That is, liis word is sufficient in my estimation to warrant me in trusting him to the entire extent of my possessions. ^ So to deny this chain. This is one of the numerous instances of the redundant particle to, an example of which has previously occurred in the present volume, p. 77, " or else to let him suflPer," and others are quoted in vol. i, pp. 274, 444. " Lest it be rather thought you affect a sorrow, than to have," All's Well that ends Well. ^ Some get within him. That is, close with him, grapple with him. — Steevens. * For God's sake, take a house. That is, to take refuge in a house ; perhaps the speaker is implying a religious house. See the next line. Tliere appears to be a slight discrepancy in the superior of the priory being entitled an abbess, but an abbey seems often to have been considered synonymous with a priory. Hakluyt, iii. 545, speaks of " the priory or abbey." ^ It loas the copy of our conference. Copy, that is, pattern, example, theme. " The first copie, example, or patterne," Baret's Alvearie, 1580. Copy is used for pattern in Twelfth Night; and by Een Jonson, and some others, in the Latinized sense of abundance, copiousness, chief part, in which latter sense it may possibly be used here. " By copy, I suppose, we are to understand here the old word copie {a copia), i. e., the fullness of our conference, all the subject of our talk. As in Hall's Chronicle, in Henry V. f, S, b. — If you vanquish the Numidians, you shall have copie of beasts, i. e., plenty of them," Theobald's Letters. Dr. Verplanck has a curious, and probably a fanciful, theory (hinted at by Mr. Singer) that the word was distinguished from copy, in its modern sense, by its being spelled copie, when meaning plenty. " Almost the copie of my child thats dead," Mucli Ado about Nothing, ed. 1600 ; " Almost the copie of my childe that's dead," ed. 1G23 ; " iVlmost the copy of my child that's dead," ed. 1685. I am persuaded that copy in the present instance neither means theme nor pattern, but copie, plenty, copious source, an old Latinism, many times used by Ben Jonson. So Puttenhara, in his Arte of Poesie, 1589, book i, ch, 14: — 436 NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. " Cicero," said Eoscius, " contended with him by varietie of Uvely gestures to surmount the copy {i. e. copiousness) of his speech." So Cooper, in his Dictionary : — " Copiose et abundanter loqui, to use his words with great copie and abundance of eloquence." The word is spelt copie in the folio ; and in King Henry V., where it means pattern, example, it is spelt copy. But the sense of the passage here will show that my interpretation is right. GiflFord is correct in saying that the word was not introduced by Jonson ; it is to be found in Hormanni Vulgaria, printed in 1519. The latest vocabidary in which I find it is BuUokar's Expositor, 1616, of which there are later editions. It is not in Philips's Dictionary. " Luckily," says Mr. GifPord, " its uncouthness has long since banished it from the language which it only served to stiffen and deform." — Singer. " It seems, his sleeps loere hindered hy thy railing. Sleeps, that is, slumbers. The term is similarly used in Hamlet and OtheUo. ^ And, at her heels. Her refers to Melancholy, the word kinsman being merely used genericaUy for one who is akin or related to something else, not necessarily a male ; in the same way that homo was applied to a woman as well as to a man. Heath proposes to read, — Sweet recreation barr'd, what dotli ensue, But moodie (moping) and dull melancholy. Kinsman to grim and comfortless Despair ? And at their heels a huge infectious troop. The second folio reads, " muddy and dull melanchoUy," the words moody and muddy having formerly been often pronounced aUke. " The merchant exposeth thee, as the wind of his moody (or muddy) fancie hurries him," Preface to Sheppard's Epigrams, 1651. ^ A huge infectious troop of pale distemperatures. macies et nova febrium Terris incubuit cohors. — Horat. " To maJce of him a formal man again. Formal, in his right senses and character. "Like afurycrown'd with snakes, not like a formal man," Anthony and Cleopatra. ^'^ It is a branch, and parcel of mine oath. Alexander was neither the sonne of God, nor yet certaine lord of any part or parcel of the earth, but was as mortall as himself. — Feniies Frutes, 1590. And take perforce my husband from the abbess. The second foho here has the stage-directions, Fxeunt, and, " Enter Merchant and Goldsmith ;" and after the fourth following speech, " Enter Adriana and Lucio," the last word being of course an error for Luciana. The same directions are repeated in the third and fourth folios. ^~ Comes this icay to the melancholy vale. In the first folio, neither of the words melancholy, nor vale, are printed with capitals. In the second, they are printed, " the MelanchoUy vale," repeated exactly eds. 1663 and 16S5, the word vale not being printed with a capital letter in any early edition. These minutiae are worth notice, it being stated by Mr. Hunter, whose references to the early editions seem generally to have been made somewhat hastily, that the folios read, — the Melancholy Vale, which would be accepted as NOTES TO THE EIFTH ACT. 437 the name of the valley, in the same manner as there is Evil Town introduced into the travels of Maundevile. Tlie 'place of depth, and sorry execution. Although the reading of ed. 1663, " the place of death," conveys a more obvious meaning, yet having regard to the probability that the author intended to convey the idea of an intensity of depth to "the melancholy vale^ which would add to its gloom, and also to the somewhat objectionable pleonasm of death and execution, I am inclined to follow Mr. Hunter in adherinsr to the oriofinal text. Mr. Hunter suggests an allusion to the Barathrum, which would be irreconcileable with the mode in which the merchant was to be executed, — " beheaded publicly for his ofPence." Sorry, sorrowful, creating sorrow. Hell is called a " sory place" in Chaucer, Cant. Tales, 7283, and a like phrase is applied to the Temple of Mars in the same work. It was done as the kinge commaunde ; His soule was fet to helle, To daunse, in that sory lande, With develes that wer ful felle. The Romance of the Soiodon of Bahyloyne, Middlehill MS. Who I made lord of me and all I had. So the original, in consonance with the grammatical usages of the time. Modern editors unnecessarily alter toho to whom, following ed. 1632. But you' re in chanted, sir, you' re doubly free Erom the great guns, and squibbing poetry: Who neither bilbo, nor invention pierces, Proof even 'gainst th' artillery of verses. Cleaveland's Foems, 12mo. Lond. 1651. At your important letters. So the first folio, the eds. 1632 and 1663 wrongly reading, " impotent letters," the Dent MS. correcting the latter to, " import'nate letters." The fourth folio has, " impotent letter." Important occurs in several other places in the sense of, importunate, as in Much Ado about Nothing, &c. The allusion in the text is an anachronism, evidently being to the custom of royal letters "being sometimes addressed to ladies with great fortunes in behalf of certain persons who had the means of obtaining them," Hunter, i. 226. Henry VllL, in a letter to a Mrs. Coward, thus urges the claims of his " trusty and well-beloved servant, William Symonds, one of the sewers of our chamber," after some preliminary compliments to the lady, — "we, considering our said servant's commendable requests, his honest conversation and other manifold virtues, with also the true and faithful service heretofore many sundry ways done unto us, as well in our wars as otherwise, and that he daily doth about our person for our singular contentation and pleasure, for the which we assure you we do tender his provision accordingly well, and desire you, at the contemplation of these our letters, to be of like benevolent mind toward our said servant, in such wise that matrimony, to God's pleasure, may shortly be solemnized between you both." Wydowes dooth curse lordes and gentyll men, Eor they constrayne them to mary with theyr men. Ye, wheder they wyll or no. — Ilyche Scorner. In the passage before us, Shakespeare was thinking particularly on the interest which the king had in England in the marriage of his wards, who were the heirs of his tenants holding by knight's service, or in capite, and were under age ; an 438 NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. interest Mliich Queen Elizabeth in Shakespeare's time exerted on all occasions, as did her successors till the abolition of the Court of Wards and Liveries ; the poet attributes to the Duke the same right to choose a wife or a husband for his wards at Ephesus. — Malone. In Love's Labour's Lost, ed. 1623, p. 136, — " among other importunate and most serious designes," the quarto of 1598 reads, — " among other importunt and most serious designes," importunt being apparently an error of the press for important. llliilst to tahe order. That is, to take measures. Compare Othello, act v. She went to take measures to repair the wrongs the wliich she supposed her husband had committed in madness. — Anon. Anon, I wot not hy ichat strong escape. A strong escape, observes Steevens, means an escape effected by strength or violence. Malone once jjroposed to read, strange escape. And, with his mad attendant and himself. Capell proposes to read, — "And here his mad attendant and himself." AVarburton suggests the correct reading is, " mad himself." The old text is certainly right. Here we have another attempt to re-wTite our author's plays; but these efforts at emendation are Avholly unnecessary. Though our poet has expressed himself loosely, he plainly meant to say, that Antipholus broke loose : and his mad servant and himself, being full of ire and furnished with drawn swords, they met Adriana, &c. The text, I have no doubt, is what the author intended it to be. — Malone. Mij master and his man are both hroke loose. The construction changes in the next sentence, a license which is of continual occurrence in writers of this period. "'^ Beaten the maids a-roic. A-row, that is, in a row, successively, one after another. " Eor thre iiyjtes a-rowe he sey5e that same syjt," Chron. Yilodun. p. 68. " Ther that mani stode a-rouwe," Legend of Pope Gregory, p. 31. " Tlie frounca comytli when a man fedith his hauk with porke, cat, other kydde, iiij. melys are\Ae," MS. Harl. 2340. "A thousand time a-row he gan hire kisse," Chaucer, Cant. T., 6836, some MSS. reading on rowe. " I sliall tell thee arowe all that I sawe, or dine tibi visa omnia exponam^' Hormanni Yulgaria, " I shall tell the all the story a-rewe, perpetvo ienore rem explicabo,'"' ibid. " And drawes with wine the Trojan tentes arowe," Turbervile's Ovid, ap. Steevens. 11 hose beard they have singed off with brands of fire. Sir Chorineus a flamyng brond from of the aultar caught. And to Ebusus cumming fast, whilst he prepaard to fight, Into his face the bronde he forst ; his huge beard breut alight. Twyne's translation of VirgiVs jEneid, 1573, lib. xii. His father Dionysius was so fearefuU and mistrustfull of everie bodie, that he woulde suffer no man with a paire of barber's sissers to poUe the heares of his head, but caused an image-maker of earth to come unto him, and with a hotte burning cole to burne his goodly bush of heare rounde about. — Plutarclis Lives, ed. North, 1579, p. 1033. NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. 439 To quench the hair. That is, to cool the hair, to quench the fire in the hair. " In drinke minister daily, in stead of common water, the water wherein yron hath often hmQ quenched" Barrough's Method of Physick, 1624. His man with scissors nicks him like a fool. Malone quotes the following passage from the Choice of Change, 1598, — " Three things used by monks, which provoke other men to laugh at their follies, 1. They are shaven and notched on the head, like fooles.'' The following extract, from the romance of Ipomydon, may explain this passage still further, — Righte unsemely, on queynte manere. He hym dight, as ye shall here. A harbor he caUyd, withouten more, And shove fshavedj hym both byhynd and before, Qiieyntly endentyd oute and in ; And also he shove halfe his chynne : He semyd a fole, that queynte syre. Both hy hede and by atyre. ""^Zuccone, a shaven pate, a notted poule, a pouled pate, a gull, a ninnie, a joulthead," Elorio's Worlde of Wordes, 1598. In Kyng Eoberd of Cysylle, MS. Harl. 1701, the angel-king, — — • clepyd a barbur hym before, That as a fole shulde he be shore Alle arounde lyke a frere, An hondbrede above the ere ; And on hys crowne makyn a croys. To scorch your face, and to disfigure you. AYarburton thinks scorch an error for scotch, and his suggestion is supported by Mr. Dyce, the same misprint occurring in Macbeth, ed. 1623, p. 140 ; but as Antlpholus is only just before described as being furnished with a fire-brand, the threat may be literally intended. The word scorch does not necessarily imply the burning of hair, but simply, in this case, to burn the skin. Compare Eevelations, xvi. 8. Scotch supplies perhaps a better meaning, but it is clearly impossible, on any safe rule of criticism, to alter the original text, when there is nothing in it repugnant to sense. It may be mentioned, however, that the term scotch is applied to the disfigurement of the face in Bulwer's Artificiall Changling, 1653, p. 253. Justice, most gracious duke ! 0, grant me justice ! There is some similarity between this speech, and the first one which is spoken by Isabella in the fifth act of Measure for Measure. When I hestrid thee in the wars. Saved you by placing myself before you, and receiving the wounds that would otherwise have been inflicted on you. So in 1 Henry IV. — " Hal, if thou see me down in the battle, and bestride me, so : it is an act of friendship." Unless the fear of death doth make me dote. The prefix to this speech in the first folio is Mar. Fat., meaning perhaps Merchant Eather. jEgeon is afterwards placed as Fath., and Fa. While she with harlots feasted in my house. The term harlot was originally applied to a low depraved class of society, the 440 NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. ribalds, and having no relation to sex. In Shakespeare's time, the term was frequently one of mere contempt, applied either to men or women. He was unhardy that harlot, And hidde hym m Inferno. — Tiers PlotigJman, ed. Wright, p. 354. Chaucer translates rog des rihaulx, by hing of harlots, and in his description of Ihe Sompnour, he characterises him as "a gentil harlot and a kind," as one who would lend his fair partner for a twelvemonth for a quart of wine. In the Coventry Mystery of the Woman taken in Adultery, the young man who is detected with her is called a harlot. Salle never harlott have happe, thorow^ helpe of my lorde. To kylle a crownde kyng with krysome enoynttede. The Romance of Morte Arthiire, MS. Lincoln, fol. 79. Nay, harlott, abyde stylle mth my knyghts I warne the, Tyll the children be slayn all the hool rought. The Bighj Mysteries, Candlemas Lay, p. 12. In Ben Jonson's Eox, Corbaccio calls Volpone a harlot, Works, ed. GifPord, iii. 312. " The harlot king," Winter's Tale. In the Chester Plays, ed. Wright, ii. 1G7, Antichrist, who is not very choice in his language, addressing Enoch and Heli, says, — Out on you, harlottes ! whense come ye ? Where have you any other godes but me ? Kor heady-rash, lyrovoWd with raging ire. Well, Philautus, to set do^\T3e precepts against thy love will nothing prevaile : to perswade thee to goe foreward, were very perillous : for I know, in the one, love will regard no lawes, and in the other, perswasions can purchase no liberty. Thou art too lieady to enter in where no heed can helpe one out. — Lilhj s Euphiies and his England, 1623. A mere anatomy, a moiintehanJc. Anatomy, that is, a skeleton. In How a Man may Chuse a good Wife from a Bad, 1602, a schoolmaster is similarly described as, "that rat, that shrimp, that spindle-shank, that wren, that sheep-biter, that lean chitty-face, that famine, that lean envy, that all-bones, that bare anatomy, that Jack-a-lent, that ghost, that shadow, that moon in the wane," repr. " No lecture at Surgeons Hall upon an anatomic may compare with them in longitude," Nash's Have With You to Saffron Walden, 1596. "That stole downe his father's anotamy {sic) from the gaUowes," Hoffman, 1631. "Eack't carcasses make ill anatomies," Donne's Poems, p. 28. A living dead man. This thought, according to Steevens, appears to have been borrowed from Sackvil's Induction to the Mirror for Magistrates : but as a lyving death. So ded alive of life bee drew the breath. Satan is a killing master ; his wages is hell tire. But all in grace is living and enliving. Idols are dead, and never were alive : men are alive, but shall bee dead : pleasures are neyther alive nor dead : devils are both alive and dead ; for they shall live a dying life, and dye a living death. Onely the living God gives everlasting life. — Adams' Eappines of the Church, 1619. NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. 441 Forsooth, tooTc on him as a conjurer. " The difference betweene conjuration and witchcraft is that the conjurer seemeth by praiers and invocation of God's powerful! names, to compell the devill to say or doe what he commandeth him ; the witch dealeth ratlier by a friendly and voluntarie conference or agreement betweene him or her, and the devill or familiar, to have his or her turne served in lieu or stead of bloud, or other gift offered unto him, especially of his or her soule ; so that a conjurer compacts for curiositie to know secrets, and worke marvels, and the witch of meere malice to doe mischiefe : and botli these differ from inchaunters or sorcerers, because the former two have personall conference with the devill, and the other meddles but with medicines and ceremoniall formes of words called charmes, without appari- tion," Minsheu. Pinch had attempted to expel Satan by his " holy prayers." And in a dark and danhish vault at home. "Dankyshe or moyst," Huloet's Abcedarium, 1553. Another instance of danldsh occurs in the French Alphabet, ed. 1615, p. 154. ^* And this is false, you burden me withal. Mr. Dyce, referring to the last speech of Adriana, proposes to place a full stop after the word chain in the previous line, and then read, — " So help me. heaven, as this is false you burden me withal !" On the whole, hoM^ever, as the speaker is evidently and naturally desirous to disclaim possession of the chain in the strongest terms, 1 adhere to the old reading, which is also supported by a previous speech, — Peace, fool, thy master and his man are here ; And that is false, thou dost report to us. Tf^hy, ichat an intricate impeach is this ! And, scaping cleane without impeach or stay, Now stand before the Persian king this day. The JVarres of Cyrus, King of Persia, 4to. Lond. 1594. I thinh, you all have drunle of Circe's cup. Mr. Dyce, referring to the J^neid, vii. 15, observes that Virgil evidently meant us to understand that those whom Circe had transformed, were deprived of reason. " Eesembling those Grecians, that, with Ulysses, drinking of Circes drugges, lost both forme and memorie," Greene's Never too Late, 1611, ap. Dyce. And careful hours, with Time's deformed hand. That is, hours full of care. " Thou art careful and troubled about many things," Luke, x. 41. Deformed for deforming, the passive participle used for the active. Have toritten strange defeatures in my face. The word defeature is generally synon}Tnous with defeat, in the numerous instances of the term in contemporary writers ; but in the three passages in which it occurs in Shakespeare, twice in the present play, and once in Yenus and Adonis, it is formed from a rather peculiar use of the verb defeat, to undo or alter, an instance of which will be found in Othello. ''Disfare, to undoe, to spoile, to waste, to marre, to unmake, to defeate," Elorio's Worlde of Wordes, 1598. " Un visage desfaict, growne very leane, pale, wan, or decayed in feature and colour," Cotgrave. Gifford, in his edition of Massinger, ii. 73, ridicules the commentators for not being aware that defeat and defeature were used indiscrimi- nately by our old writers. Hasty censure on Shaks):)erian critics not unfrequently recoiis upon the reputation of the complainant, even where the reproach comes III. 56 442 NOTES TO THE FIFTH ACT. from a wTiter of a merit so high as was that of GiflFord. The commentators were no doubt perfectly well aware of the ordinary meaning of the Avord, at the same time that they had sufficient critical sagacity to perceive that it could not, in the text, be made to bear its usual signification, and thinking probably that circum- stance was too obvious to require a special notice. It may perhaps be as well to add instances of the common use of the term in contemporary writers. In this so heavie and unlooked for mischance, a very great number of souldiors, and tenne tribunes besides, were missing : upon which defeature, the Alemaus taking more heart to them, and very stoutly every day approching neere unto the Romanes fortifications, whiles the morning mists dimmed the light, ran up and downe braving with their drawne swords, grating their teeth, and letting flye big and prowd menaces. — Ammianus Marcellhius, translated hy Holland, 1609. Fame, who hath as many tongues as there are mouthes in the world, hearing of the honourable defeature given by those worthy champions to their ignoble but insulting enemies, — Behlers Strange Horse Bace, 1613. Ay, sir, hut I am sure I do not. This is generally but erroneously printed with a note of interrogation after sir. The old copy has, " I sir," and as ay is generally printed /, it is usually in an editor's discretion to adopt which he pleases. "\Ve may perhaps read, — " I, sir ? but I am sure 1 do not," as suggested in Eitson's Eemarks, 1783, p. 29. It is scarcely necessary to observe that, in the latter part of the speech, Dromio is quib- bling on the word hound. ^ Knows not my feehle hey of iintudd cares? That is, the key or sound of my voice, which is untuned, or put out of tune, by my cares and anxieties. Tliongli note this grained face of mine. Grained, says Steevens, is furrowed, like the grain of wood. Compare a tra- ditional tale relating to Shakespeare, printed in vol. i. p. 198. — Thou son of fire, with thy face like a maple, The same difference as between a scalded and a coddled apple. In sap-consuming tpinters drizzled snow. " Drizly snow," extract in an old MS. commonplace-book. Heath suggests, grizzled, but the original text conveys a better meaning. "Gresille, drizled on, covered or hoare with reeme," Cotgrave. The comparison of grey hairs to snow is a favorite simile with Elizabethan poets ; e. g., Daniel thus concludes a beautiful sonnet in his Delia, ed. 1592, p. 37, — Thou maist repent that thou hast scorn' d my teares, When winter snowes uppon thy golden lieares. The image first occurs in the Eevelations, i. 14. *^ All these old witnesses, I cannot err. In the two last lines there is no need of alteration ; the old man says — " all these old tcitnesses (above mentioned — I cannot err or be mistaken in them) tell me thou art, &c. — ' I cannot err' should be read as in a parenthesis, and the sense is clear. Some would read — ichich or that cannot err, to avoid, as they call it, so uncouth a parenthesis, but an attentive reader will perceive great beauty in the words so understood. — Dr. Bodd. Tiiis line should be read : — "AU these hold witnesses I cannot err," all these NOTES TO THE FIETH ACT. 443 continue to testify that I cannot err, and tell me, &c. — Warbtirton. The old reading is the true one, as well as the most poetical. The words, I cannot err, should be thrown into a parenthesis. By old witnesses, I believe, he means ex- perienced, accustomed ones, which are therefore less likely to err. So, in the Tempest : — " If these be true spies that I wear in my head," &c. Again, in Titus Andronicus, " Eut if my frosty signs and chaps of age, grave witnesses of true experience," &c. — Steevens. jEgeon calls them old tcitnesses, because they were of the same age with himself, and he had from his youth been accustomed to give credit to them, and had hitlierto seldom found they had deceived him, especially when they all concurred in the same testimony. — Heath. ^ If I dream not, thou art Emilia. Thomas Hull wTote an alteration of this play, which was produced at Covent Garden Theatre in 1779, and printed in 1793. In a MS. of his in my possession, he says, — " I have always thought that some part of the original play has been lost : neither jEgeon nor ^Emilia express the smallest surprise or joy at such an unexpected meeting, after a separation of twenty-five years. My opinion has been sufficiently proved by the alteration I presumed to make of this comedy, from which I claim no merit, but that of having reproduced a neglected piece of our great bard, after it had lain hid for a number of years, to frequent exhibition and universal approbation." Hull forgets the presumption of by-play so necessary in almost every one of Shakespeare's dramas. Whg, here begins his morning story right. The first six lines of this speech are, in the old copy, placed just before ^Egeon's last speech. The transposition, which is essential to the sense, was made by Capell, the " morning story" of course alluding to the narrative of jEgeon in the first act. Besides her urging of her wreck at sea. Blackstone says, "J^milia may be supposed, at her first coming to Ephesus, to have urged her wreck at sea, in order to move compassion : the Duke (comparing this, ^Egeon's morning story and the hkeness of the twins together) pronounces, these plainly are the parents of these children, which how she has proved herself to be, unless by some former story, is difficult to say." Mr. Collier appears to adopt this explanation ; but surely the Duke merely means to say, " Besides her mentioning or introducing her wreck at sea," which is an additional proof of the correctness of his conjecture. Mason says the abbess does not hint at her ship- wreck ; but, what amounts to the same thing, she confesses to have been saved on the raft. Malone thinks a line following the present one, to the effect of, — " These circumstances all concur to prove" — has been omitted : but the Duke, in his amazement, may well be presumed to speak somewhat disjointedly. Hanmer wildly reads, — " both sides emerging from their wreck at sea." Tioenty-five years have I but gone in travail. In former editions : thirty-three years. 'Tis impossible the poet should be so forgetful, as to design this number here ; and therefore I have ventured to alter it to tiDenty-five, upon a proof, that, I think, amounts to demonstration. The number, I presume, was at first wrote in figures, and, perliaps, blindly ; and thence the mistake might arise. JEgeon, in the first scene of the first act, is precise as to the time his son left him, in quest of his brother : — " My youngest boy, and yet my eldest care, at eighteen years became inquisitive after his brother ;" &c. And how long it w^as from the son's thus parting from his father, to their meeting again at Ephesus, where iEgeon, mistakenly, recognises the twin-brother for him, NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. we as precisely learn from another passage in the fifth act : — " But seven years since, in Syracusa bay, thou know'st we parted ; — " so that these two numbers, put to:^ether, settle the date of their birth beyond dispute. — TlieohaJd. Capell reads ttceiiti/-three. " Been gone," ed. 1032. The original text is correct, but, in this line, having the force of, but only, but merely. *^ Jiy heavy burden ne^er delivered. " My heauic burthen are deliuered," ed. 1623 ; " my heavy burthens are delivered," ed. 1G32. The excellent emendation in the text was first suggested by Mr. Singer. Theobald reads, — " nor, 'till this present hour, \m\t^^'^' burthens are delivered ;" Malone, — " until this present hour, my heavy burden not de- livered ;" Capell, — " and, 'till this present hour, my heavy burthen not delivered ;" the Perkins manuscript, — " and, at this present hour, ray heavy burdens are delivered." Mr. Collier suggests, tin-delivered, and Mr. Singer prints, — " here delivered." An anonymous critic suggests, — " has delivered." And you, the calendars of their nativity. The Abbess here addresses herself to the two Dromios, wliom she denominates the calendar of the nativity of her sons, because she ascertained, with as nmch precision as a calendar, the time when her sons were born, the twin Dromios having been born on the same day with their masters. So Antipholus of Syracuse, on Dromio of Ephesus coming to him, whom he mistakes for his own servant, says : — " Here comes the almanach of my true date." — 2Ialone. Go to a gossijis' feast, and go icith me. Warburton proposes to read, gaude icith, and Heath, joy with, the former critic deriving his emendation from Er. gaudir. No alteration is really necessary, these kinds of repetitions being quite in Shakespeare's manner, and of constant occurrence in poems of the sixteenth century. Some times a chaunce doth cliaunce By chaunce to please the m.inde : Some times agaiue a chaunce doth chaunce That no such chaunce we finde. Yates' Eould of Humilitie, 4to. Lond. 1582. " Caquetoire, a place wherein women meet and pratle together, as a myll, an oven, a gossips feast," Cotgrave. The gossips' feast mentioned in the text would be the baj^tismal feast, the sponsors having been formerly termed gossips ; God-sibb, A. S, " Godsip, now pronounced gossip : our Christian ancestors understanding a spirituall affinity to grow betweene the parents, and such as undertooke for the childe at baptisme, called each other by the name of Godsib, which is as much to say as that they were sib together, that is, of kin together through God ; and the child in like manner called such his God-fathers or God-mothers," Verstegan's Kestitution of Decayed Intelligence, ed. 1G28, p. 223. In Shakespeare's time, both the godfather and godmother M-ere termed gossips, but, at a later period, the appellation was generally limited to the latter. After so long grief, such nativity! Johnson proposes to read, " such festivity," but the next speech clearly shows that the original text is correct. Her sons had only then been born to her. Hanmer reads, felicity. °" Embrace thy brother there, rejoice icith him. The old stage-direction is literally thus, — " Exeunt omnes. Manet the two Dromio's and two Brothers." The error of manet is repeated in the second and NOTES TO THE FIETil ACT. 445 fourth folios, the thn-d foHo reading mannet, making an additional blunder. The modern arrangement of the scene being closed hj the two Dromios alone, is unquestionably to be preferred. That Jcitclieud me for you to-day at dinner. An allusion to the would-be wife whom Dromio found in the kitchen. ^* We'll draiD cuts for the senior. Cats, lots. Cuts were generally drawn in the following manner. Slips of unequal length were held in the hand of one of the party, with the ends peeping out, and he who drew the longest one was the winner. Sometimes the shortest slip decided the event, as in the Prologue to the Canterbury Tales, ed. Urry, p. 7 ; and in Walton's Angler, ed. lG76,'p. 89. The custom of drawing cuts is frequently mentioned, e.g., in Palsgrave, 1530, " I drawe lottes, or drawe cuttes ;" Marston's Malcontent ; Sydney's Arcadia ; Cowley's Cutter of Coleman Street, 1663; Marriage Night, 1664, p. 14; The Libertine, 1676, p. 54; Eamiliares Colloquendi Eormute, 1678, p. 118,— "let us draw cuts, sortiamitr partes " Howard's Committee, p. 28; Ramsay's Poems, ed. 1721, p. 81. And ther they were at a long stryf which of them shulde go ; and so at last they acorded and sware, and made promyse before all the company, that they shulde drawe cuttes, and he that shulde have the longest straice shulde go forthe, and the other abyde. — Lord Berners, Froissart's Crouycle. At length, in regard tliat their going out was taken notice of by other gentle- men, and if no bloud were drawn, it might redound to both their disparagements, they agreed betwixt themselves to give one another some slight hurt or scratch in such a place where they could best endure it, and so drew cuts who should give the first wound.— ^ Banquet of Jests new and old, 1657. " Shakespear, on the other hand, was beholding to no body farther than the foundation of the tale ; the incidents were often his own, and the writing intirely so. Theie is one play of his, indeed, the Comedy of Errors, in a great measure taken from the Mentcchmi of Plautus. How tliat happen'd, I cannot easily divine, since, as 1 hinted before, 1 do not take him to have been master of Latin enough to read it in the original, and 1 know of no translation of Plautus so old as liis time," Eowe's Life of Shakespeare, 1709. Compare also the preface to Langbaine's Momus Triumphans, 4to. 1688, and that work, p. 21, a note to the Comedy of Errors being,—" the ground from Plautus's Ampitruo and Msenectrini." The same writer, in his Account of the English Dramatick Poets, 8vo. 1691, p. 455, says that Shakespeare's comedy, " is founded on Plautus his Ma3nechmi, and if it be not a just translation, 'tis at least a paraphrase, and I think far beyond the translation, call'd Menechmus, which was printed 4to. Lond. 1595." Bentley, one of the publishers of the comedy of the Mistaken Husband, 4to. Lond. 1675, an anonymous production to which Dryden contributed a scene, thus alludes to the Comedy of Errors in his address to the reader : — " the resemblance of one man to another has not only been the foundation of this, but of many other plays. Plautus his Amphitrion was the original of all, and Shakespear and Moliere have copied him with success. Nevertheless, if tliis play in it self should be a trifle, which you have no reason to suspect, because that incomparable person^ would not from his ingenious labours lose so much time as to write a whole scene in it, which in it self sufficiently makes you amends, for poetry being like pamting, where, if a great master have but touch'd upon an ordinary piece, he makes it of value to all understanding men ; as 1 doubt not but this will be by his additions." An alteration of the Comedy of Errors, by Thomas Hull, was acted at Covent NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. Garden in 1779, published in Svo. 1793. Another adaptation, by AY. Woods, under the title of tlie Twins, or Which is Which, was performed at Edinburgh, and printed there in Svo. 1780, and again in a collection of farces, 12mo. 1783, &c. A\ illiam Shirley, a dramatist of the last century, compiled another alteration, under the title of ylll Mistaheii, a comedy which was neither printed nor acted. The first named piece was revised by J. P. Kemble. A farce entitled. Every Body ]\Iistaken, by William Taverner and Dr. Brown, acted at Lincoln's Inn Eields in 171G, is believed to have been merely an alteration of the present comedy; but it was never printed. It is scarcely necessary to say that the above, like aU other attempts to improve the works of Shakespeare, are not of the slightest critical or literary value. Collations of tlie Comedy of Errors with the text of the plat/ in the first folio edition of 1623.— P. 85, col. 1, Proceed, Solinus, Salinus, ed. 1632 ; and by the doom, % doom, ed. 1685, and Bowe, 1709; excludes all pity, ed. 1623; to admit, f admit, ed. 1632; marts and fairs, or fairs, MS. Dent; and to ransom him, to omitted in ed. 1632; a hundred marks, marl\ ed. 1685; to speak my griefs, mij grief ed. 1632 ; in Syracusa was I born, Syracuse, ed. 1685 ; and by me, and hy me too, ed. 1632; and he, and lo, M. Mason, and the, eds. 18th cen- tury; great care, great store, ed. 1632; left, leaving, ed. 1632. P. 85, col. 2, that Avomen bear, sic in ed. 1623 in my copies, but one copy is said to read hears; a mean woman, poor mean, ed. 1632 a doubtful, a dreadfal, Theobald ; yet the incessant weepings, weeping, ed. 1632 ; had fast'ned, fastened, ed. 1632 ; was carried, sic in ed. 1623 ; the seas waxt, seas wax, eds. i632, 1663, seas icas, ed. 1685, sea was, Rowe, 1709. P. 86, col. 1, violently borne up, borne up upon, ed. 1632 ; gave healthful welcome, helpful icelcome, ed. 1632 ; had not their back, sic in ed. 1623, corrected to barh in ed, 1632 ; that by misfortunes, thus by mis- fortunes, MS. Dent and Heath ; and for the sake, sahes, ed. 1632 ; to dilate at full, the full, Bowe, 1709 ; what have befall'n of them, o/ omitted in ed. 1685; and they till now, and thee, ed. 1632 ; so his case was like, /or his, ed. 1632 ; in farthest Greece, Greene, ed. 1663 ; to bear the extremity, tii extremity, ed. 1663 ; his liveless end, sic in ed. 1623 ; too soon be, be too soon, ed. 1685. P. 86, col. 2, Syracusian marchant, Syracusan merchant, ed. 1632; for a rival here, /or ar- rival here, ed. 1632; the weary sun set, sun sets, ed. 1685 ; till I come', tell I, ed. 1632 ; within this hour, &c., this and the next line are transposed in ed. 1632 ; having so good a mean, a means, ed. 1632 ; go to my inn, the inn, ed. 1632 ; I will go lose my self, lose my life, ed. 1632, corrected to my s^^/ again in MSS. Dent and Wheler ; to mine own content, my own, ed. 1632 ; in quest of them, of Mm, ed.^1632 ; unhappy a, a omitted in ed. 1632 ; a Wensday last, Wednesday, ed. 1685. P. 87, col. 1, should be your cook, you cook, ed. 1632, your clock, MS. Dent ; stays for you, sic in ed. 1623 ; for God sake hold, sic in ed. 1623 ; exeunt Dromio, exit Bromio, ed. 1632 ; ore-wrought, sic in ed. 1623 ; liberties of sin, liveries of sin, M. Mason ; to go seek this slave, go omitted in ed. 1685 ; Actus Secundus, Actus Secunda, ed. 1632 ; perhaps some merchant, mercha?its, ed. 1632 ; he takes it thus, it ill, ed. 1632. P. 87, col. 2, are their males subjects, sic in ed. 1623, altered by some to subject; wild wat'ry seas, ivide icafry seas, ed. 1632 ; sense and souls, soul, ed. 1632 ; fish and hv^\s,fowl, ed. 1632 ; at too hands, at two hands, ed. 1632- a hundred marks, a 1000. marks, ed. 1632; I know not thy mistress, thy mistress not, Seymour ; out on thy mistress, on my, ed. 1632 ; / knov- no mistress, out upon thy mistress, Steevens ; so that my arrant, ony errand, ed. 1685 ; upon my shoulders, thy shoulders, ed. 1632 ; in conclusion, the last letter misprinted e in ed. 1632. P. 88, col. 1, you must case me in leather, Exit added in ed. 1632; unkindness blunts it, blots it, ed. 1632; you NOTES TO THE EIETH ACT. 447 know he -pmmis' d, p?'omised, ed. 1663; a loue, alo?ie, ed. 1632 ; where gold and no man, &c., this and the next hne omitted in ed. 1632 ; jealousy Exit, Exeunt, ed. 1632 ; Enter Antipholis Errotis, Antipolis Erotes, ed. 1632 ; so madly thou did didst, sic in ed. 1623, did being properly omitted in ed. 1632. P. 88, col. 2, why first for flouting me,, first icliy, Capell ; 1 '11 make you amends next, next ft me, Malone; I pray you eat none of it, eat not, ed. 1632 ; and recover the lost hair of another man, lost hait, ed. 1685 ; what he hath scanted them in hair, vieu in, MS. Dent. P. 89, col. 1, nay not sound, sound ones, ed. 1632 ; namely in no time, in omitted in ed. 1632 ; hath thy sweet aspects, some sweet, ed. 1632 ; should'st thou but hear, hit omitted in ed. 1632 ; the poison of thy flesh, mjjfiesli, ed. 1632 ; contagion, catagion, ed. 1685 ; wants wit in all, sic in ed. 1623. P. 89, col. 2, and this thou, and thus, ed. 1632 ; converse, misprinted conversie in ed. 1632 ; with your gravity, your misprinted you in ed. 1632 ; be it my wrong, by it, ed. 1685; to thy stranger state, stronger state, Eowe, 1709; the freed fallacy, the forced fallacy, MS. Dent ; owls and spriglits, oicls and elves sprights, ed. 1632 ; and answer'st not, omitted in ed. 1632 ; thou snail, thou omitted in ed. 1632 ; am I not, am not I, Theobald ; to put the finger in the eye, thy eye, ed. 1632 ; man. and master laughs, sic in ed. 1623. P. 90, col. 1, you must excuse us all, all omitted by Steevens ; carkanet, carJcaner, ed. 1685 ; your own hand- writing, oicn omitted in ed. 1632 ; y'are sad, sic in ed. 1623 ; your welcome deer, sic in ed. 1623 ; Oh signior. Ah, ed. 1685 ; makes a merry feast, sic in ed. 1623 ; go get thee, get the, ed. 1632 ; and you'll tell me, sic in ed. 1623 ; if thou hast been, hast bid, ed. 1632, hast bin, MS. Dent. P. 90, col. 2, you 'U let us in I hope, I trow, eds. 18th century ; make a man mad, as mad, ed. 1632 ; with your, loith you, ed, 1632. P. 91, col. 1, the doors are made, are barrd, modern edition ; where it gets, ojice gets, ed. 1632 ; that chain will I bestow, / idll, ed. 1632 ; upon mine hostess, upon my, ed. 1632; some hour hence, hour sir, ed. 1632; Enter Juliana, Luciana,td. 1632, but the erroneous direction to Luciana's speech is allowed to remain in eds. 1632, 1663, 1685 ; of his own attaine, sic in ed. 1623, corrected to attain t by Eowe, 1709 ; shame hath a bastard fame, bastard frame, ed. 1685 ; ill deeds is, ill deeds are, ed. 1632 ; make us not believe, us but, Theobald. P. 91, col. 2, we in your motion turn, motion run, ed. 1685 ; nor by what wonder, tchat wander, ed. 1685 ; feeble shallow, shaddoio, ed. 1632, shadowy, MS. Dent ; nor to her bed no homage, a homage, ed. 1632 ; in thy sister flood, tliy sisters, ed. 1632 ; and as a bud, a bed, ed. 1632 ; if she sink, if he. Heath ; her good will Exit, Exit omitted in ed. 1632 ; and besides myself, sic in ed. 1623. P. 92, col. 1, a very reverent body, sic in ed. 1623, reverent being merely the old spelling of reverend; will burn a Poland winter, Lapland winter, some editions ; 1 found it by the barrenness, by her, eds. 18th century ; against her heire, ed. 1623, h:dre, ed. 1632 ; chalkle, ed. 1623, chalky, ed. 1632 ; whole armadoes of caracks, carrects, ed. 1623 ; the mark of my shoulder, marks of, ed. 1632, marks on, ed. 1685. P. 92, col. 2, if every one knows us, hieiD us, Steevens ; hie time, sic in ed. 1623 ; but least myself, sic in ed. 1623 ; Dromio from the Courtizans, part of orig. stage-direction in ed. 1623 ; that labour may you save, you may, ed. 1685. P. 93, col. 1, and their confederates, and these, MS. Perkins ; a man is well holp up, hope up, ed. 1685 ; to the utmost carat, chared, ed. 1623, raccat, ed. 1632 ; and if I have not, sic in ed. 1623 ; both wind and tide stays, sic in ed. 1623 ; for this gentleman, /or the, ed. 1632 ; or send me by, by me. Heath ; what should I answer you, why should, ed. 1663 ; you wrong me more, more omitted in ed. 1632 ; to pay this sum, the sum, ed. 1632 ; consent to pay thee, thee omitted in ed. 1632. P. 93, col. 2, and then sir, and omitted in ed. 1632 ; and I have bought, brought, ed. 1632 ; to hier waftage, sic in ed. 1623. P. 94, col. 1, worse in mind, the mind, ed. 1632 ; on whose, ed. 1623, one whose, ed. 1632 ; countermands, countermines, Warburton ; but is in a suit, 448 NOTES TO THE FIETH ACT. but hcs in, ed. 1GG3 ; that can I tell, I can, ed. 1663 ; thus he unknown, that he, ed. 1632 ; no no the bell, no the hell, ed. 1685 ; Time is a verie bankerout, sic in ed. 1623 ; if I be in debt, if Time's in deht, MS. Dent; There's not a man, An.S. prefixed in ed. 1632. P. 94, col. 2, gives them a sob, hoh, MS. Dent, sop, con- jecture ; to bed and says, and sayeth, ed. 1632 ; is there any ships, any ship, ed. 1632 ; if do expect, if you do, ed. 1632 ; avoid then, avoid thou, ed. 1685. P. 95, col. 1, that you know. Exit, Exeunt, ed. 1632 ; too much to lose. Exit added in ed. 1632. P. 95, col. 2, or ratlier the prophecy, rather I'll, Warburton ; and you shut q>vX, and and, ed. 1685; my bones bears witness, bones bear, ed. 1632 ; the vigor of his rage, of your, eds. 18th century; Is't good to sooth him in these crontraries, sic in ed. 1623, smooth, contraries, ed. 1632, it's good, ed. 1663 ; both man and master is possess'd, sic in ed. 1623. P. 96, col. 1, and art con- federate, and are, ed. 1632 ; out on thee villain, on the, ed. 1685; will you be bound for nothing, nothhig thus, eds. 18th century ; how idlely, sic in ed. 1623 ; he did bespeak a chain for me, for me proposed to be omitted by Steevens on ac- count of the metre. P. 96, col. 2, you saw they speak, they spake, ed. 1632 ; he doth deny it, he did, ed. 1632: of very reverent, sic in ed. 1623, one old spelling of reverend; I wonder much, / accidentally omitted in ed. 1685 ; and mine honesty, and my, ed. 1685. P. 97, col. 1, to fetch my poor, to omitted in ed. 1685; sower sa-d, sic in ed, 1623; and much different, much much, ed. 1632 ; by wrack of sea, at sea, ed. 1632 ; for my urging it, — perhaps the repetition of these words may be a misprint, the compositor taking them in mistake from the previous line, instead of copying the author's right words ; the venom clamors, the venomous, ed. 1663, the venonid, Hanmer ; poisons more deadly, sic in ed. 1623 ; unquiet meales make, makes, ed. 1632 ; thou sayest, thysayest, ed. 1632 ; but moody, hut muddy, ed. 1632; hath scar'd, have scard, ed. 1632; why bear you these, ichy hear, ed. 1663. P. 97, col. 2, my husband from the abbess. Exeunt. Enter Merchant and Goldsmith, ed. 1632; the place of depth, of death, ed. 1663; to see a reverent, reverend, ed. 1663 ; we will behold his death, Enter Adriana and Lucia, ed. 1632 ; bare head, bare headed, ed. 1632 ; so much we tender him, Enter Adriana, ed. 1632 ; who 1 made lord of me, tchom I, ed. 1632 ; important, impo- tent, ed. 1632, imporfnate, MS. Dent ; whether we pursu'd, whither, ed. 1632 ; we may bear him hence, thence, ed. 1663. P. 98, col. 1, Oh mistress, 3£ess. pre- fixed in ed. 1632 ; and the while his man, and the omitted by Heath ; send some })rcsent help, some other, ed. 1632; dost report to us, of us, ed. 1632 ; thou shall find me, thou shall, ed. 1632 ; while she with, ichilst, ed. 1632 ; so befall my soul, so fall, Capell. P. 98, col. 2, that 1 this day of \i\m.,from him, ed. 1632 ; and a fortune-teller, a omitted in ed. 1685 ; and gazing in mine eyes, my eyes, ed. 1685 ; my bonds in sunder, asunder, ed. 1632 ; he would not plead so coldly, so cooly. Dr. Grey. P. 99, col. 1, I am sure you both, you omitted in ed. 1632 ; times extremity, the letter x omitted in some copies of ed. 1623 ; drizled snow, dridy, MS. Extracts. P. 99, col. 2, his morning story, this, ed. 1685 ; and these, and those, ed. ]632; your most, your rmist, ed. 1685; her sister here, her sister omitted in ed. 1632. P. 100, col. 1, but gone, been gone, ed. 1632; heavv bur- then, burthens, ed. 1632. P. 100, col. 2, how shall we, hoic shall I, ed. 1632 ; for the signior, signiority, ed. 1663. END Q]? VOL. III.