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 ::?'<\ii<^^
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA 
 AT LOS ANGELES
 
 flvf,. 

 
 mV0 dSjimon 
 
 O F 
 
 SHAKSPERE.
 
 THE 
 
 DRAMATICK WRITINGS 
 
 O F 
 
 WILL. SHAKSPERE, 
 
 Wit/i the Notes of all the various Commentators ; 
 
 PRINTED. CCi«.PI,ETE FROM THE BEST EDITIONS OF 
 
 SAM. JOHNSON and GEO. STEEVENS. 
 
 Volume tlz jfourt:^* 
 
 CONTAINING 
 
 MERRY WIVES cf WINDSOR. 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed for, and under the DireSion of, 
 
 John Bell, IBviU^^ library, Strand, 
 
 Bookseller to His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales. 
 
 MDCC LXXXVIII.
 
 MERRY WIVES of WINDS OR. 
 
 B y 
 
 WILL. SHAKSPERE: 
 
 Printed Complete from the TEXT of 
 
 SAM, JOHNSON and GEO. S TEE FENS, 
 
 And revised from the last Editions, 
 
 When Learning's triumph o'er her harb'roas foes 
 Pirstrear'd the Stage, immortal SH.1KSPERE rose; 
 Each change-cf many-colour'd life he drew, 
 Exhausted worlds, and then imagin'd new : 
 Existence saw him spurn her bounded reign, 
 And panting Time toil'd after him in vain : 
 His pow'rful strokes presiding Truth confess 'd. 
 And unresisted Passion storm'd the breast. 
 
 _ JIR. SAMUEL JOK-VSON", 
 
 159406 
 
 LONDON : 
 Printed for y and under the dlreEilcn cfy 
 
 John Bell, jBritisljsllibrarp, Stkand. 
 
 M D C C L X >: X V ,
 
 OBSERVATIONS 
 
 ON THE Jfabic AND (ZTompositiotx of the 
 
 MERRY WIVES of WINDSOR. 
 
 Of this play there is a tradition preserved by Mr. Rowe, 
 that it was written at the command of queen Elizabeth, who 
 was so delighted with the charafter of FalstafF, that she wished 
 it to be diffused through more plays ; but suspefting that it 
 might pall by continued uniformity, diredled the poet to di- 
 versify his manner, by shewing him in love. No task is 
 harder than that of writing to the ideas of another. Shak- 
 spere knew what the queen, if the story be true, seems not to 
 have known, that by any real passion of tenderness, the selfish 
 craft, the careless jollity, and the lazy luxury of Falstaff must 
 have suffered so much abatement, that little of his former cast 
 would have remained. Falstaff could not love, but by ceasing 
 to be Falstaff. He could only counterfeit love, and his pro- 
 fessions could be prompted, not by the hope of pleasure, but 
 of money. Thus the poet approached as near as he could to 
 the work enjoined him ; yet having perhaps in the former 
 plays completed his own idea, seems not to have been able to 
 give Falstaff all his former power of entertainm-ent. 
 
 This comedy is remarkable for the variety and number 
 of the personages, who exhibit more charadtei-s appropriated 
 and discriminated, than perhaps cah be found in any other play. 
 
 Whether Shakspere was the first that produced upon the 
 English stage the effeft of language distorted and depraved 
 by provincial or foreign pronunciation, I cannot certainly de- 
 cide. This mode of forming ridiculous charadlers can confer 
 f r?.ise only on him, who originally discovered it, for it re- 
 Aij quires
 
 IV OBSERVATIONS, &C, 
 
 quires not much of either wit or judgment : its success must 
 be derived almost wholly from the player, but its power in a 
 skilful mouth, even he that despises it, is unable to resist. 
 
 The condudl of this drama is deficient ; the action begins 
 and ends often before the conclusion, and the different parts 
 might change places without inconvenience ; but its general 
 power, that power by which all works of genius shall finally be 
 tried, is fuch, that perhaps it never yet had reader or spec- 
 tator, who did not think it too soen at an end. Johnson. 
 
 iDramati0 iperfonae* 
 
 MEN. 
 
 •S/VJOHN FaL STAFF. 
 
 Fen TON. 
 
 Shallow, a Country 'Justice. 
 
 Slender, Cousin to Shalloiv, 
 
 , '' „'"" ^' V lI'ivQ Gentlemen diveUinsf at Windsor^ 
 Mr. Ford, S 
 
 •S/VHuGH Evans, a Welch Parson. 
 Dr. Ca I us, a French DoEior, 
 HJi of the Garter. 
 
 B A R D O L P H , 
 Pis TO L. 
 
 N Y M . 
 
 Robin, Pa^e to Faljlaff. 
 
 Wi L L I A M Pa G E, a Boy^ Son to Mr. Page. 
 
 Simple, Ser-vant to Slender. 
 
 RuGiiY, Servant to Dr. Caius. 
 
 WOMEN, 
 Mrs. Page. 
 Mrs. Ford. 
 Mrs. Anne Page, Daughter to Mr. Page, in loi<e iL-ith 
 
 Fen ton. 
 Mrs. Qu 1 c K L y , Servant to Dr. Caius. 
 
 Servants to Pag Zt Ecrd, &c. 
 Scene, Windsor \ and the Parts adjacent.
 
 MERRY WIVES of WINDSOR. 
 
 ACT I. SCENE I. 
 
 Before PaGE's House in Windsor. Enter Justice SHAL- 
 LOW, Slender, and Sir Hugh 'Eya^s, 
 
 Shallow, 
 
 O I R Hugh, persuade me not : I will make a Star- 
 chamber matter of it : if he vere twenty sir John 
 Falstaffs, he shall not abuse Robert Shallow, 
 enquire. 
 
 Slcn. In the county of Gloster, justice of peace, 
 and coram. 
 
 S/ial. Ay, cousin Slender, and custalorum. 
 
 Slen. Ay, and ratalor'um too ; and a gentleman 
 born, master parson ; who writes himself armigero ; 
 in any bill, warrant, quittance, or obligation, armi- 
 gero. 1 1 
 
 Shal. Ay, that I do ; and have done any time these 
 three hundred years. 
 
 Slen.
 
 6 KiERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. AB I, 
 
 Slcn. All his successors, gone before Iiim, have 
 done't } and all liis ancestors, tliat come after liim, 
 may : they may give the dozen white luces in their 
 coat. 
 
 Shal. It is an old coat. 
 
 Eva. The dozen white louses do become an old 
 coat well ; it agrees well, passant : it is a familiar 
 beast to man, and signifies — love. 21 
 
 Shal. The luce is the fresh fish j the salt fish is an 
 old coat. 
 
 Slc7i. I may quarter, coz. 
 
 S/ial. You may by marrying. 
 
 Eva. It is marring, indeed, if he quarter it. 
 
 ShaU Not a whit. 
 
 Eva. Yes, py'r-lady ; if he has a quarter of your 
 coat, there is but three skirts for yourself, in my 
 simple conjectures : but that is all one : If sir John 
 Falstaff have committed disparagements unto you, I 
 am of the churcli, and will be glad to do mj' benevo- 
 lence, to make atonements and compromises between 
 you. 34 
 
 ShaJ. The council shall hear it ; it is a riot. 
 
 Eva. It is not meet the council hear of a riot ; 
 there is no fear of Got in a riot : the council, look 
 you, shall desire to hear the fear of Got, and not to 
 hear a riot j take your vizaments in that. 
 
 Shal. Ha ! o' my life, if I were young again, tlic 
 aword should end it. 41 
 
 Eva. It is petter that friends is the sword, and end 
 at: and there is also another device in my prain, 
 
 which,
 
 ABI. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 7 
 
 which, peradventvire, prings goot discretions with 
 it : there is Anne Page, which is daughter to master 
 George Page, which is pretty virginity. 
 
 Slen. Mistress Anne Page ? she has brown hair, 
 ^nd speaks small like a woman. 48 
 
 Eva. It is that very person for all the 'orld, as just 
 as you will desire ; and seven hundred pounds of 
 monies, and gold, and silver, is her grandsire, upon 
 his death's bed (Got deliver to a joyful resurrections ! ) 
 give, when she is able to overtake seventeen years 
 old : it were a goot motion, if we leave our pribbles 
 and prabbles, and desire a marriage between master 
 Abraham, and mistress Anne Page. 
 
 Slcn. Did her grandsire leave her seven hundred 
 pounds ? 
 
 Eva. Ay, and her father is make her a petter 
 penny. 60 
 
 Slen. I know the young gentlewoman ; she has good 
 gifts. 
 
 Eva. Seven hundred pounds, and possibilities, is 
 good gifts. 
 
 Skal. Well, let us see honest master Page : is Fal- 
 staff there ? 
 
 Eva. Shall I tell you a lie ? I do despise a liar, as 
 I do despise one that is false j or, as I despise one 
 that is not true. . The knight, sir John is there j and, 
 I beseech you, be ruled by your well-willers, I will 
 peat the door [Knocks'] for master P^ge, What, 
 hoa! Got pless your house here ! 72 
 
 A EnUr
 
 8 MEPvRY WIVES OF WINDSOR, Ad I, 
 
 Enter Page. 
 Pacre. Who's tliere ? 
 
 o 
 
 Eva. Here is Got's plessing, and your friend, and 
 justice Shallow : and here is young master Slender ; 
 that, peradventures, shall tell you another tale, if 
 matters grow to your likings. 
 
 Page. I am glad to see your worships well : I thank 
 you for my venison, master Shallow. jg 
 
 Shal. Master Page, I am glad to see you ; Much 
 good do it your good heart ! I wish'd your venison 
 better; it was ill kill'd :— How doth good mistress 
 Page ? — and I thank you always with my heart, la j 
 with my heart. 
 
 Pa ere. Sir, I thank you. 
 
 Shal. Sir, I thank you ; by yea and no, I do. 
 
 Page. I am glad to see you, good master Slender. 
 
 Slcn. How does your fallow greyhound, sir ? I 
 heard say, he was out-run on Cotsale. 
 
 Page. It could not be judgM, sir. ,90 
 
 Slen. You'll not confess, you'll not confess. 
 
 Skal. That he will not j — 'tis your fault, 'tis your 
 fault : — 'Tis a good dog. 
 
 Page, A cur, sir. 
 
 Shal. Sir, he's a good dog, and a fair dog ; Can 
 there be more said ? he is good, and fair. — Is sir John 
 Falstaff here ? 
 
 Pug!'.. Sir, he is within j and I would I could do a 
 good ofiicc betv.eca you. 
 
 Eva,
 
 Acl I. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 9 
 
 Eva. It is spoke as a Christians ought to speak. 100 
 
 Skal. He hath wrong 'd me, master Page. 
 
 Page. Sir, he doth in some sort confess it. 
 
 Shal. If it be confess'd, it is not redress'd ; is not 
 that so, master Page ? He hath wrong'd me j — in- 
 deed, he hath ;— at a word, he hath ; — beheve me j 
 — Robert Shallow, esquire, saith, he is wrong'd. 
 
 Page. Here comes sir John. 
 
 Enter Sir Jor::^ Falstaff, Bardolfh, Nym, and 
 Pistol. 
 
 fal. Now, master Shallow ; you'll complain of me 
 to the king ? 
 
 SAaL Knigl:t, you have beaten my men, kill'd my 
 deer, and broke open my lodge. lil 
 
 Fa/. But not kiss'd your keepers daughter ? 
 
 SkaL Tut, a pin ! this shall be answer'd. 
 
 fa/. I will answer it straight j — I have done all 
 this : — That is now answer'd. 
 
 S/ia/. The council shall know this. 
 
 Fa/. 'Twere better for you, if 'twere known in 
 council ; you'll be laugh'd at. 
 
 Eva. Paucaverbay sir John ; good worts. 119 
 
 Fa/. Good worts ! good cabbage : — Slender, I 
 broke your head ; What matter have you against 
 me? 
 
 S/m. Marry, sir, I have matter in my head against 
 you ; and against your coney- catching rascals, Bar- 
 dolph, Nym, and Pistol. 
 
 Bar. You Banbury clieese ! 
 
 B SUn,
 
 lO MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 4^ f. 
 
 i^kn. Ay, it is no matter. 
 
 Pist. How now, Tviephostophilus ? 
 
 S/cn. Ay, it is no matter, 
 
 Nym, Slice, I say ! pauca, pauca \ slice ! that's my 
 hmnour, 13; 
 
 Slc7u Where's Simple^, my man ? — can you tell, 
 cousin ? 
 
 Eva. Peace : I pray you ! Now let us understand : 
 There is three umpires in this matter, as I under- 
 stand : that is — master Page, Jideticet, master Page j 
 and there is my self y Jiddicet, myself; and the three 
 party is, lastly and finally, mine host of the Garter. 
 
 Page. We three, to hear it, and end it between 
 them. 140 
 
 Eva. Feiy goot : I will make a prief of it in my 
 note-book ; and we will afterwards 'ork upon ^he 
 cause, with as great discreetly as we can. 
 
 Fa/. Pistol, 
 
 Fist. He hears with ears. 
 
 Eva. The tevil and his tarn! what phrase is this^ 
 He hears with car ? Why, it is afteftations. 
 
 Fal. Pistol, did you pick master Glender's purse ? 
 
 Slcn. Ay, by these gloves, did he (or I would I 
 inight never come in mine own great chamber again 
 else), of seven groats in mill- sixpences, and twQ 
 Edward shovel-boards, that cost me two shilling 
 ^nd two-pence a-piece of Yead Miller, by these 
 gloves. 
 
 Fal. Is this true. Pistol ? 155 
 
 Eva, No i it is fiilse, if it is apick-pvirse.
 
 Am. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSO!(.. 11 
 
 Fist. Ha, thou mountain-foreigner ! Sir John, 
 
 and master mine, 
 i combat challenge of this latteh bilboe : 
 Word of denial in thy labra's here j 
 Wbf'd t)f denial : froth and scum, thou ly'st. 169 
 
 SteH. By these gloves, then 'twas he. 
 
 Aym. Be avis'd, Sir, and pass good humours : I 
 \vill say, marry trap, with you, if you run the nut- 
 hook's humour on me ; that is the very note of it. 
 
 Seen. By this hat, then he in the red face had it : 
 for though I cannot remember what I did when you 
 liiade me drunk, yet I am not altogether an ass* 
 
 FcL What say you, Scarlet and John ? 
 
 BaTd. Why, sir, for Hiy part, I say, the gentle- 
 man had drunk himself out of his five sentences. 170 
 
 Eva. It is his five senses : fie, v/hat the ignorance 
 is! 
 
 Bard. And being fap, sifj was, as they say, ca- 
 shier'd ; and so conclusions pass'd the careires. 
 
 Skn, Ay, you spr>e in Latin then too ; but 'tis no 
 mattier : I'll never be drunk whilst I live again, but 
 in honest, civil, godly company, for this trick : if I 
 be drunk, I'll be drunk ivitli those that have the fear 
 of God, and not wich drunken knaves. 179 
 
 Eva. So Got 'udge me, that is a virtuous mind. 
 
 Fal. You iiear all these matters deny'd, gentle^ 
 men j you hear it. 
 
 Bij ^nht
 
 12 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Acl 1. 
 
 Enter Mistress Anne Page with Wine \ Mistress Ford 
 and Mrs. Page following. 
 
 Par^e. Nay, daughter, carry tlie wine in ; we'll 
 drink within. \_Exit Anne Page. 
 
 Slen, O heaven ! this is mistress Anne Page. 
 
 Pa<fe. How now, mistress Ford ? 
 
 Fat. Mistress Ford, by my trotli, you are veiy 
 well met : by your leave, good mistress. 
 
 [Kissing her, 
 
 Page. Wife, bid these gentlemen welcome : — 
 
 Come, we have a hot venison pasty to dinner ; come, 
 
 gentlemen, I hope we shall drink down all un- 
 
 kindness. 192 
 
 [Exeunt all but Shal. Slend. and Evans. 
 
 Slen. I had rather than forty shillings, I had m.y 
 book of songs and sonnets here ; ' 
 
 Enter Simple. 
 
 How now, Simple ; wh.ere have you been ; I nmst 
 wait on myself, must I ? You have not the book of 
 riddles about you, have you ? 
 
 Sim. Bock of riddles ! why, did you not lend it to 
 Alice Shortcake npon Allhallowmas last, a fortnight 
 afore Michaelmas ? 200 
 
 Shal. Come, co7, ; come, coz ; we stay for you, 
 A word with you, coz : marry, this, coz ; There is, 
 as 'twere, a tender, a kind of ter.der, made afar oif 
 by sir Hugh here ; — Do you understand me ? 
 
 Slai.
 
 Acll. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. ii^ 
 
 •S-lcn. Ay, sir, you shall find me reasonable j if it 
 be so, I shall do that that is reason, 
 
 S/iaL Nay, but understand I'lie. 
 
 Hen. So I doy sW, 
 
 Eva. Give ear to his motions, master Slender: I 
 \vil} description the matter to you, if you be ca])acity 
 t»f it-. 2 1 1 
 
 •S/en. Nay, I vvill do, as my cousin Shallow sa) s : 
 I pray you, pardon me ; he's a justice of peace iu 
 his country, simple though I stand here. 
 
 ^vtic. But that is not the question; the question is 
 concerning your marriage. 
 
 ■Siai. Ay, there's the point, sir. 
 
 £va. Marry-, is it ; the very point of it ; to mis- 
 'tress Anne Page. 
 
 ■Sicn. Why, if it be so, I will marry her, upon 
 any reasonable demands. 221 
 
 £za. But can you alieftion the 'oman ? let us com- 
 rnahd to know tliat of your mouth, or of your lips ; 
 for divers philosophers hold, that the lips is parcel 
 of the mouth ■;-^Therefo-re, precisely, can you carry 
 your-goad-wili to the maid? 
 
 S-iaL Cousin Abraham Slender, can you love her > 
 
 ■SLn. I liGpe^ sir, — I will do, as it sliall become one 
 t'uat would do reason. 
 
 • Eva. Nay, Gots lords and Iiis ladies, you must 
 sp'eak possitable> if you can carry her your desires 
 towards her. £32 
 
 S/^aL That you mus't : Will you, upon good dowry, 
 -marry her ? 
 
 B ii j SL-n,
 
 14 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. A81 I. 
 
 Slcn. I will do a greater thing than that, upon your 
 request, cousin, in any re?.son. 
 
 Slial. Nay, conceive me, conceive me, sweet coz ; 
 what I do, is to pleasure you, coz : Can you love the 
 maid ? 939 
 
 Slcn. I will marry her, sir, at your request; but if 
 there be no great love in the beginning, yet heaven 
 may decrease it upon better acquaintance, when we 
 are marry'd, and liave more occasion to know one 
 another : I hope upon familiarity will grow more 
 contempt : but if you say, marry her, I will marry 
 her, that I am freely dissolved, and dissolutely. 
 
 Eva. It is a fery discretion answer ; save tJie foul* 
 is in the 'ort dissolutely : the 'ort is, according to 
 our meaning, resolutely ; — his meaning is good. 
 
 ShaL Ay, I think my cousin meant well. 2,30 
 
 SUn. Ay, or else I would I might be hanged, la. 
 
 Re-enter Anne Page. 
 
 Shal. Here comes fair mistress Anne : — Would I 
 were young for your sake, mistress Anne ! 
 
 Anne. The dinner is on the table ; my father de- 
 sires your worship's company. 
 
 Shal. I will wait on him, fair mistress Anne. 
 
 Eva. Od's plessed will ! I will not be absence at 
 the grace. {Ex. Shal. and Evans. 
 
 Anne. Will't please your worship to come in, sir ? 
 
 Slen. No, I thank you, forsooth, heartily j I am 
 very well. 261 
 
 Minne. The dinner attends you, sir. 
 
 Slen.
 
 Act I.. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 15 
 
 Slen. I am nota-hungry, I thank yoii, forsooth: — 
 Go, sirrah, for all you are my man, go, wait upon 
 my cousin Shallow: {Exit Simp.] A justice of peace 
 sometime may be beholden to his friend for a man : 
 — I keep but three men and a boy yet, till my mother 
 be dead :. But what though : yet I live like a poor 
 gentleman born. 
 
 Anne. I may not go in without your worship : they 
 will not sit, till you come. 271 
 
 Slen. rfaith, i'il eat nothing : I thank you lis much 
 as though I did. 
 
 Anne. I pray you, sir, walk in. 
 
 SLn. I had rather walk here, I tliank you: I 
 bruis'd my shin the other day with playing at sword 
 and dagger with a master of fence, three veneys for 
 a dish of stew'd prunes ; and, by my troth, I can- 
 not abide the smell of hot meat since. Why do your 
 dogs bark so ? be there bears i' the town ? 280 
 
 Anne. I think, there are, sir j I heard them talk'd 
 of. 
 
 Slen. I love the sport well j but I sl^all as soon 
 quarrel at it, as any man in England; — You are 
 afraid, if you see the bear loose, are } on not ? 
 
 Anne. Ay, indeed, ' sir. 
 
 Slen. That's meat and drink to me now : I have 
 seen Sackerson loose, twenty times ; and have taken 
 him by the chain : but, I warrant you, the women 
 have so cry'd and shrlek'd at it, that it p:tss'd : — 
 but women, indeed, cannot abide "em j tliey are very 
 iil-favour'd rough things. 292 
 
 Rc-enUT
 
 l6 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. A& I, 
 
 Re-enter Face. 
 
 Page. Come, gentle master Slender, come i we 
 stay for you. 
 
 Slen. I'll eat nothing, I thank you, sir. 
 
 Page. By cock and pye, you shall not choose, sir : 
 come, come. 
 
 Sien. Nay, pray you lead the way. 
 
 Page. Come on sir. 
 
 Slen. Mistress Anne, yourself shall go first. 300 
 
 Anne. Not I, sir ; pray you, keep on. 
 
 Slen. Truly, I will not go first ; truly-la : I will 
 not do you that wrong. 
 
 Anne. I pray you, sir. 
 
 Slen. I'll rather be unmannerly, than troublesome : 
 you do yourself wrong, indeed-la. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 EnterEvA-in 5 and Simple, 
 
 Eva. Go your ways, and ask of Dr. Caius' house, 
 which is the way : and there dwells one mistress 
 Quickly, which is in the manner of his nurse, or his 
 dry nurse, or his cook, or his laundry, his washer, 
 and his wringer. 311 
 
 Simp. Well, sir. 
 
 Eva. Nay, it is petter yet : — give her this letter ; 
 for it is a 'oman that altogether's acquaintance with 
 
 mistress
 
 Acl I. MERRY WINES OF WINDSOR. 37 
 
 mistress Anne Page; and the letter is, to desire and 
 require her to sohcit your master's desires to mistress 
 Anne Page : I pray you, be gone ; I will make an 
 end of my dinner; there's pippins and cheese to 
 come. \^Excuni severally. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 The Garter Inn. Enter Falstaff, Host, Bar- 
 DOLFH, Nym, Pistol, and Robin. 
 
 Fal. Mine host of the Garter, — 320 
 
 Elost. What says my bully-rook ? speak scholarly, 
 and wisely. 
 
 Fa/. Truly mine host, I must turn away some of 
 my followers. 
 
 Host. Discard, bully Hercules ; cashier : let them 
 wag; trot, trot. 
 
 fdi. I sit at ten pounds a Aveek. 
 
 Host. Thou'rt an emperor, Cxsar, Keisar, and 
 Pheezar. I will entertain Bardolph ; he shall draw, 
 he shall tap : said I well, bully Heclor ? 330 
 
 FaL Do so, good mine host. 
 
 Host. I have spoke ; let him follow : Let me see 
 thee froth, and lime : I am at a word ; follow. 
 
 [ Exit Host. 
 
 FaL Bardolph, follow him ; a tapster is a good 
 trade : An old cloak makes a new jerkin ; a withtr'd 
 servingman, a fresh tapster : Go, adieu. 
 
 B.i>d,
 
 l8 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Acl I. 
 
 Bard. It is a life that I have desir'd : I will thrive. 
 
 \_Ex2t Bardolph. 
 
 Pist. O base Gongarian wight ! wilt thou the spi- 
 got wield ? 
 
 Nym. He was gotten in drink : Is not the humour 
 conceited ? His mind is not heroic, and there's the 
 humour of it. g^2 
 
 Fal. I am glad, I am so acquit of this tinderbox } 
 his thefts were too open : his filching was like an un- 
 skilful singer, he kept not tin\e. 
 
 Nym, The good humour is, to steal at a minute's 
 rest. 
 
 Pist. Convey, the wise it call : Steal 1 fob ; a fico 
 for the phrase ! 
 
 Fat. Well, sirs, I am almost out at heels. 350 
 
 Pist. Why then let kibes ensue. 
 
 Fal. There is no remedy ; I must coney-catch, I 
 must shift. 
 
 Pist. Young ravens must have food. 
 
 Fal. Wliich of you know Ford of this town ? 
 
 Pist. I ken the wight ; he is of substance good. 
 
 Fal. My honest lads, I will tell you what I am 
 about. 
 
 Pist. Two yards, and more. 3,59 
 
 Fal. No quips now. Pistol : Indeed, I am in the 
 waist two yards about : but I am now about no 
 waste ; I am about thrift. Briefly, I do mean to 
 make love to Ford's wife ; I spy entertainment in 
 her ; she discourses, she carves, she gives the leer 
 of invitation ; I can construe the action of her fami- 
 liar
 
 Acl L MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. I9 
 
 liar stlle j and the hardest voice of her behaviour, to 
 be Englisli'd rightly, is, I am sir John Falstajf''s, 
 
 Put. He hath study'd her will, and translated Jier 
 will ; out of honesty into English. o^Sg 
 
 Nym. The anchor is deep : Will tliat humour 
 pass ? 
 
 Fal. Now, the report goes, she has all the rule of 
 her husband's purse ; she hath a legion of angels. 
 
 Pist, As many devils entertain ; and, To ker, boy, 
 say I. 
 
 Nym. The humour rises j it is good : humour me 
 the angels. 
 
 Fal. I have writ me here a letter to her : and here 
 another to Page's wife ; who even now gave me good 
 eyes too, examin'd my parts with most judicious 
 eyeliads : sometimes the beam of her view gilded my 
 foot,, sometimes my portly belly. 382 
 
 Ptst. Then did the sun on dung-hill shine. 
 Nym. I thank thee for that humour. 
 Fal. O, she did so course-o'er my exteriors with 
 such a greedy intention, that the appetite of her eye 
 did seem to scorch me up like a burning-glass ! 
 Mere's another letter to her : she bears the purse 
 too ; she is a region in Guiana, all gold and 
 bounty. I v. ill be cheater to them both, and they 
 shall be exchequers to me ; they shall be my East 
 and West Indies, and I will trade to them both. 
 Go, bear thou this letter to mistress Page ; and thou 
 this to mistress Ford : we will thrive, ladsy we will 
 tliri^T. Q05 
 
 Plit.
 
 20 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. A3 I. 
 
 Put. Shall I sir Pandanis of Troy become, 
 And by my side wear steel ? then Lucifer take all ! 
 
 Nym. I will run no base humour : here, take the 
 
 humour letter ; I will keep the haviour of reputation. 
 
 Fal. Hold, sirrah, bear you these letters tightly; 
 
 Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores. 401 
 
 [71; Robin. 
 Roi^ues, hence, avaunt ! vanish like hail-stones, go ; 
 Trudge, plod, away, o' the hoof ; seek shelter, 
 
 pack ! 
 Falstaff will learn the humour of this age, 
 French thrift, you rogues ; myself, and skirted page. 
 [Examt Falstaff and Boy. 
 Fist. Let vultures gripe thy guts ! for gourd, and 
 fuUam holds ; 
 And high and low beguiles the rich and poor : 
 I'estcr I'll have in pouch, when thou shalt lack, 
 Jiase Phrygian Turk ! 
 
 Aym. I have operations In my head, which be hu- 
 mours of revenge. 4 1 1 
 Fist. Wilt thou revenge ? 
 Nym. By welkin, and her star ! 
 Phi. With wit, or steel ? 
 Aym. With both the humours, I : 
 I will discuss the humour of this love to Ford. 
 Pist. And I to Page shall eke unfold. 
 How Falstaff, varlet vile, 
 Hi-^ dove will prove, his gold will hold, 
 
 And his soft couch defile, 420
 
 ylil I. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 21 
 
 jVvDi. My luimour shall not cool : I will incense 
 Ford to de:il with poison : I will possess him with 
 yellowness, for the revolt of mien is dangerous : that 
 is my true humour. 
 
 Fist, Thou art the Mars of malecontents : I second 
 thee ; troop on. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 Br. Cmvs's House. Enter Mrs. Quickly, Simple, 
 a}2d John Rugby. 
 
 Qiuc. What J John Rugby! — I pray thee, go to 
 the casement, and see if you can see my master, 
 irjaster Do6lor Caius, coming ; if he do, i' faith, and 
 find any body in the house, here will be an old 
 abusing of God's patience, and tlie king's Englisli. 
 
 Rug. ril go watch. [£a'z^ Rugby. 432 
 
 Ouic. Go ; and we'll have a posset for't soon at 
 night, in faith, at the latter end of a sea-coal fire. 
 An honest, willing, kind fellow, as ever servant 
 shall come in house withal ; and, I warrant you, no 
 tell-tale, nor no breed-bate : his worst fault is, that 
 he is given to prayer; he is something peevish that 
 way : but no body but has his fault ; — but let that 
 pass. Peter Simple, you say your name is ? 4^0 
 
 Sim. Ay, for fault of a better. 
 
 Quic. And master Slender's your master ? 
 
 Sim. Ay, forsooth. 
 
 C Qu^'c.
 
 22 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. A51 I. 
 
 Quic. Does he not wear a great round beard, like a 
 glover's paring-knife ? 
 
 Si7n. No forsooth : he hatli but a httle wee 
 face, with a little yellow beard j a Caln-colour'd 
 beard. 
 
 Quic. A softly-sprighted man, is he not ? 
 
 Sim. Ay, forsooth : but he is as tall a man of his 
 hands, as any is between this and his head ; he hath 
 fought with a warrener. 452 
 
 Quic. How say you ? oh, I should remember 
 
 him ; Does he not hold up his head, as it were ? and 
 strut in his gait ? 
 
 Sim. Yes, indeed, does he. 
 
 Quic. Well, heaven send Anne Page no worse for- 
 tune ! Tell master parson Evans, I will do what I can 
 for your master ; Anne is a good girl, and I wish 
 
 Re-enter Rugby. 
 
 Rug. Out, alas ! here comes my master. 460 
 
 Quic. We shall all be shent : Run in here, good 
 young man; go into this closet. [S/iuts Simple z« l/ie 
 closet.] He will not stay long. — What, John Rugby ! 
 John, what, John, I say ! — Go, John, go inquire 
 for my master ; I doubt, he be not well, that he 
 comes not home : — aiid dozvUf downy a-down-a, Sec. 
 
 [Srngs, 
 
 Enter Doctor CaiuS. 
 
 Caius. Vat is you sing? I do not like dcse toys; 
 Pray you, go and vetch me in my closet itn boiiier 
 
 verd'n
 
 Ad I. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 23 
 
 verd; a box, a green-a box j Do intend vat I speak > 
 a green-ii box. 470 
 
 Quic. Ay, forsooth, I'll fetch it you. 
 I am glad he went not in himself : if he had found 
 the young man, he would have been horn- mad. 
 
 [Aside, 
 
 Caius. Fcy fcy fe, fe! ma foiy il fait fort chaud, 
 Jc VI en vai a la Cour, ia grande affaire. 
 
 Quic. Is it this, Sir ? 
 
 Cants. Ouy ; incttez Ic au mon pocket ; DepecheZf 
 quickly : — Vere is dat knave Rugby ? 
 
 Qtac. What, JoJm Rugby ! John ! 
 
 Rug. Here, Sir. 480 
 
 Cains. You are John Rugby, and yon are Jack 
 Rugby : Come, take-a your rapier, and come alter 
 my heel to de court. 
 
 Rug. 'Tis ready, Sir, here in the porch. 
 
 Caius. By my trot, I tarry too long : Od's me ! 
 
 Qu^ay foublic ? dere is fome simples in my closet, 
 dat I vill not for the varld I sliall leave behind. 
 
 Quic. Ay me ! he'll find the young man there, and 
 be mad. 
 
 Caius. diablcy diahlel vat is in my closet? — Vil- 
 
 laine, Larronl Rugby, my rapier. 491 
 
 [Pulls Simple out of the Closet. 
 
 Quic. Good master, be content. 
 
 Caius. Verefore shall I be content-a ? 
 
 Quic. The young man is an honest man. 
 
 Caius. Vat shall de honest man do in my closet ? 
 dere is no honest man dat sludl come in my closet. 
 
 C i j Quic.
 
 24 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. AH L 
 
 Qidc. I beseech you, be not so fleginat'iG ; hear 
 the truth of it. He came of an errand to me from 
 parson Hugh. 
 
 Ca/'fis. Veil. 500 
 
 Sim. Ay, forsootli, to desire her to 
 
 Ouk. Peace, I pray you. 
 
 Caius. Peace-a your tongue : — Speak-a your tale. 
 
 Sim. To desire this honest gentlewoman, your 
 maid, to speak a good word to mistress Anne Page 
 for my master in the way of marriage. 
 
 Ouic. This is all, indeed-la ; but I'll never put 
 my finger in the fire, and need not, 
 
 Caius. Sir Hugh send-a you ? — Rugby, baillcz me 
 some ^.aper : Tarry you a little while. 510 
 
 Quic. I am glad he is so quiet : if he had been tho- 
 roughly moved, you should have heard him so loud, 
 and so melancholy; — But notwithstanding, man, I'll 
 do for your master what good lean: and the very 
 yea and the no is, the French Doftor, my master, — I 
 may call him my master, look you, for I keep his 
 house ; and I wash, wring, brew, bake, scour, dress 
 meat and drink, make the beds, and do all myself. 
 
 Sim. 'Tis a great charge, to come under one body's 
 hand. ,520 
 
 Quic. Are you avis'd o' that ? you shall find it a 
 great charge : And to be up early, and down late ; — ■ 
 but notwithstanding (to tell you in your ear ; I 
 would have no words of it), my master himself is in 
 love with mistress Anne Page ; but, notwithstanding 
 
 that,
 
 Ad; 1. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 25 
 
 that, 1 know Anne's mind, that's neither liere 
 
 nor there. 
 
 Caius. You Jack'nape ; give-a dis letter to sir 
 Hugh ; by gar, it is a shallenge : I vill cut his throat 
 in de park ; and I vill teach a scurvy jack-a-nape 
 
 priest to meddle or make : you may be gone ; it 
 
 is not good you tarry here : by gar, I will cut all 
 
 his two stones j by gar, he shall not have a stone to 
 trow at his dog. [ Exit Simple. 
 
 Quic. Alas, he speaks but for his friend. 535 
 
 Caius. It is no matter-a for dat : do you not 
 
 tell-a me dat I shall have Anne Page for myself? — 
 by gar, I vill kill de jack priest j and I have ap- 
 pointed mine host of de Jarterre to measure our wea- 
 pon : by gar, I vill myself have Anne Page. 540 
 
 Qinc, Sir, the maid loves you, and all shall be 
 well : we must give folks leave to prate : What, the 
 goujere ! 
 
 Caiui. Rugby, come to the court vit me ; By 
 
 gar, if I have not Anne Page, I shall turn your 
 head out of door : — < — Follow my heels, Rugby. 
 
 \^Ex. Caius and Rugby. 
 
 Q^uic. You shall have An fools-head of your own. 
 No, I know Anne's mind for that : never a woman 
 in Windsor knows more of Anne's mind than I 
 do ; nor can do more than I do with her, I thank 
 heaven- 5jl 
 
 Fait. [IVit/iin.] Who's within there, ho? 
 
 Ouic. Who's there, I trow ? come near the house, 
 
 I prav vou. 
 
 Ciij Enter
 
 26 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Acl I. 
 
 Enter Mr. Fentox. 
 
 Pent. How now, good woman ; how dost thou ? 
 
 Qiiic. The better that it pleases your good worsjiip 
 to ask. 
 
 Fcnt. What news ? how does pretty mistress Anne ? 
 
 O^uic. In truth, Sir, and she is pretty, and honest, 
 and gentle ; and one that is your friend, I can tell 
 you that by the way, I praise heaven for It. c^Gi 
 
 Pent. Shall I do any good, thinkest thou ? shall I 
 not lose my suit ? 
 
 Qidc. Troth, sir, all is in liis liands above : but 
 notwithstanding, master Fenton, I'll be sworn on a 
 
 book, she loves you : Have not your worship a 
 
 wart about your eye ? 
 
 Pent. Yes, marry, have I ; what of that ? 568 
 
 Ouic. Well, thereby hangs a tale ; good faith, 
 
 it is such another Nan ; but I detest, an honest 
 
 maid as ever broke bread : — We had an Iiour's talk 
 of that wart ; — I shall never laugh but in that maid's 
 company! — But, indeed, she is given too i)uich to 
 allicolly and musing : But for you — Well — go to. 
 
 Pent. Weil, I shall see her to-day : Hold, t!icre"s 
 money for thee ; let me have thy voice in my behalf: 
 if thou seest her before me, commend me— — 
 
 Ouic. Will I ? ay, faith, that we will : and I v.ill 
 tell your worship more of the wart, the next time we 
 have confidence ; and of other wooers. ,580 
 
 Pent. Well, farcwel ; I am in great liaste now. 
 
 lExit.
 
 Acl H. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 07 
 
 Oiiic. Farewel to your worship. — Truly, an honest 
 gentleman; but Anne loves him not; I know Anne's 
 mind as well as another docs; — Out upon't! wliat 
 liave I forgot ? [Exit. 
 
 ACT II. SCENE I. 
 
 B(J[:rc Page's House. Enter Mistress Page toii/i a 
 Letter, 
 
 Mrs. Page, 
 V> HAT, have I 'scap'd love-letters in the holy-day- 
 time of my beauty, and ;im I now a subject for them? 
 Let me see : 
 
 Ask 7nc no reason why I lave you ; fcr though love use 
 reason for his precisian, he admits him not for his counsel- 
 lor : You are not young, no more am /; go to then, there's 
 y sympathy : you are merry, so am I; Hal ha I then t kerf's 
 risjife sympathy : you love sack, and so do I; JVould you 
 desire better sympathy ? let it suffice thee, mistress Pa :rf 
 {at the least, if the love of a soldier can suffice)^ that I Uvc 
 thee ; Izoill not say, pity me, ''tis not a soL'icr-likr l^hrase-, 
 tut I say, love me. By ine, 12 
 
 Thine ozcn true knight. 
 By day or night. 
 Or any kind of light, 
 With all his might, 
 
 for thee tojigkt, John Falstaif. 
 
 3 V/hat
 
 28 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. A8II. 
 
 What a Herod of Jewry is this ? — O wicked, wicked 
 world ! — one that is well nigh v.orn to pieces with 
 age, to shew himself a young gallant! What an un- 
 weigh'd behaviour has this Flemish drunkard pick'd 
 (with tlie devil's name) out of my conversation, that 
 he dares in this manner assay me ? Why, he hath 
 not been thrice in my company ! — What should I 
 say to him ? — I was then frugal of my mirth : — 
 heaven forgive me! — Why, I'll exhibit a bill in the 
 parliament for the putting. down of men. How 
 shall I be reveng'd on him ? for reveng'd I will be, as 
 sure as his guts are made of puddings. 29 
 
 ^ntcr Mistress Ford. 
 
 Mrs, Ford. Mistress Page ! trust me, I was going 
 to your house. 
 
 Mrs. Page. And, trust me, lwi\ coming to you. 
 You look very ill. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Nay, I'll ne'er believe that 5 I have to 
 shew to the contrary. 
 
 Mrs. Page. 'Faith, but you do, in my mind. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Weil, I do then ; yet, I s:\y, I could 
 shew you to the contrary : O, mistress Page, give 
 me some counsel ! 
 
 Mrs. Page, What's the matter, woman ? 40 
 
 Mrs. Ford. O woman, if it were not for one trifling 
 respeft, I could come to such honour 
 
 Mrs. Page. Hang the trifle, woman ; take the ho- 
 nour ; Wliat is it r — dispense witli triflet> ; — what is 
 it? 
 
 Mrs.
 
 Acl II. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 25 
 
 Mrs. Ford. If I would but go to hell for an eternal 
 moment, or so, I could be knighted. 
 
 Mrs. Page, What r — thou liest 1— Sir Alice Ford ! 
 — These knights will hack ; and so thou shouldst not 
 alter the article of thy gentry. ,50 
 
 Mrs. Ford: We burn day-light ! — here, read, read; 
 — perceive how I might be knighted. — I shall think 
 the ^vorse of fat men, as long as I have an eye to 
 m;ike difference of men's liking : And yet he would 
 not swear ; prais'd women's modesty ; and gave such 
 orderly and well-behav'd reproof to all uncomeliness, 
 tliat I would have sworn his disposition would have 
 gone to the truth of his words : but they do no moie 
 adhere, and keep place together, tlian the hundredth 
 psalm to the tune of Green Skez'es. What tempest, 
 I trow, threw this wh.ale, with so many tuns of oil in 
 his belly, ashore at Windsor ? How shall I be re- 
 veng'd on him ? I think, the best way were to en • 
 tertain him with hope, 'till the wicked fire of lust 
 have m.elted him in his own grease. — Did you ever 
 hear the like ? 6G 
 
 Mrs. Page. Letter for letter ; but that the name of 
 Page and Ford differs ! — To thy great comfort in this 
 mystery of ill opinions, here's the twin-brother of thy 
 letter: but let thine inherit first ; for, I pi'otest, mine 
 never shall. I warrant, he hath a thousand of these 
 letters, writ v/ith blank space for different names 
 (sure more), and these are of tlie second edition : He 
 will print them out of doubt ; for he cares not what 
 he puts into the preii, when he would put us two. 
 
 I had
 
 go MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. A61 II. 
 
 I had rather be a giantess, and He under mount Pe- 
 lion. Well, 1 will find you twenty lascivious turtles, 
 ere one chaste man. 78 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Why, this is the very same ; the very 
 hand, the very words : What doth he think of us? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Nay, I know not : It makes me al- 
 most ready to wrangle with mine own honesty. I'll 
 entertain myself like one that I am not acquainted 
 withal ; for, sure, unless he knew some strain in me, 
 that I know not myself, he would never have board- 
 ed me in this fury. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Boarding, call you it? I'll be sure to 
 keep him above deck. 88 
 
 Mrs. Pu^c. So will I y if he come under my hatch- 
 es, I'll never to sea again. Let's be reveng'd on him : 
 let's appoint him a meeliiig ; give him a show of 
 comfort in his suit ; and lead him on with a fine 
 baited delay, 'till he halh pawa'd his horses to mine 
 Host of the Garter. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Nay, I will consent to a6t any villainy 
 against him, that may not sully the chariness of our 
 honesty. Oh, that my husband saw this letter! it 
 would give eternr.l food to his jealousy. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Why, look, where he comes j and my 
 good man too : he's as far from jealousy, as I am from 
 giving him cause ; and that, I hope, is an unmea- 
 surable distance. 102, 
 
 Mrs. Ford. You are the happier woman. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Let's consult together against this greasy 
 knight : Come hither. [ They retire. 
 
 Enter
 
 AclII. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 31 
 
 Enter Ford with Pistol, Page zvith Nym. 
 
 Ford, Well, I hope, it be not so. 
 
 Pht. Hope is a curtail-dog in some affairs : 
 Sir John affects thy wife. 
 
 Ford. Why, sir, my wife is not young. 
 
 Pist. He wooes both high and low, both rich and 
 poor, 110 
 
 Both young and old, one with another, Ford j 
 He loves thy gally-mawfry j Ford, perpend. 
 
 Ford. Love my wife ? 
 
 Pist. With liver burning hot : Prevent, or go thou. 
 Like sir Adlaeon he, with Ring-wood at thy heels : — 
 O, odious is the name ! 
 
 Ford. What name, sir ? 
 
 Pist. The horn, I say: Fai-ewel. 
 Take heed ; have open eye ; for thieves do foot by 
 
 night : 
 Take heed, ere summer comes, or cuckoo -birds do 
 sing. — 120 
 
 Away, sir corporal Nym. ■ 
 
 Believe it, Page ; he speaks sense. [Exit Pistol. 
 
 Ford. I will be patient ; I will find out this. 
 
 Nym. [Speaking to Page.] And this is true ; I like 
 not the humour of lying. He hath wrong'd me in 
 some humours : I should have borne the humour'd 
 letter to her ; but I have a sword, and it shall bite 
 upon my necessity. He loves your wife j there's 
 the short and the long. My name is corporal Nym ; 
 I speak, and I avouch. 'Tis true : — my name is 
 
 Nym,
 
 32 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. A&, Ih 
 
 NyiTi, and Falstaff" loves your wife. — Adieu ! I love 
 not the humour of bread and cheese j and there's the 
 humour of it. Adieu. [£a7/Nym. 
 
 Page. The humour of it^ quotli a' ! here's a fellow 
 frights Immour out of its wits. 135 
 
 ¥ord. I will seek cut FalstalF. 
 . Page, I never heard such a drawling, affe6ling 
 rogue . 
 
 Ford. If I do find it, well. 
 
 Page. \ will not believe such a Catalan, though 
 the priest o' the town commended him for a true 
 man. li;2 
 
 Ford. 'Twas a good sensible fellow: Well. 
 
 Page. How now, Meg ? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Whither go you, George ? — Hark you, 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Hovv now, sweet Frank, why art tliou 
 melancholy ? 
 
 Ford. I melancholy 1 I am not melancholy. — Get 
 you liome, go. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Faith, thou hast some crotchets in thy 
 head now. — Will you go, mistress Page ? 151 
 
 Mrs. Page. Have with you. — You'll come to din- 
 ner, George ? — Lock, who comes yonder : she shall 
 be our messenger to this paltry knight. 
 
 [Aside to Mrs. YOsi.'D. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Quickly. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Trust me, I thought on her : she'll fit it. 
 Mrs. Page. Yoii I're come to see my daughter Anne ? 
 
 Q.mc.
 
 AlIII. merry wives. of Windsor, 33 
 
 Qmk. Ay, forsooth j And, I pray, how does good 
 mistress Anne ? 
 
 Mrs. Page, Go in. with us, and see j we have an 
 
 hour's talk with you. i6o 
 
 {Ex. Mrs. Face, Mrs. Fokd, end Mrs. Quickly, 
 
 Page. How now, master Ford > 
 
 ford. You heard what this knave told mej didyou 
 not? 
 
 Page. Yes ; And you hecird what the other told rner 
 
 ford. Do you think there is trutli in them > 
 
 Page. Hlng 'em, slaves ! I do not think the knight 
 would offer it : but these, that accuse him in his in- 
 tent towards our wives, are a yoke of liis discarded 
 men ; very rogues, now they be out of service. 
 
 ford. Were they liis men ? 370 
 
 Page. Marry, were tliey. 
 
 Ford. I like it never the better for tlvit. — Does he 
 lie at the Garter ? 
 
 Page. Ay, many, does he. If he should intend 
 his voyage towards rny wife, I would turn her loose 
 . to him ; and what he gets more of her than sharp 
 words, let it lie on my head. 
 
 Ford. I do not misdoubt my wife ; but I would be 
 loth to turn them together : A man may be too con- 
 fident : I would have nothing lie on my head : I can- 
 not be thus satisfied. i8i 
 
 Page. Look, where my ranting host of the Garter 
 comes : there is either liquor in his pate, or money 
 . in his purse, when he looks so merrily. — Ho v.', now, 
 mine host ? 
 
 D Enter
 
 34 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Aci 11. 
 
 Enter I lost y and Shallow. 
 
 Host* How, now, bully-rook? thou'rt a gentleman: 
 cavalero-justice, I say. 
 
 Shal. I follow, mine host, I follow. — Good even, 
 and twenty, good master Page! Master Page, will 
 you go with us ? we have sport in hand. 190 
 
 Host. Tell him, cavalero-jusiice ; tell him, bully- 
 rook. 
 
 Shal. Sir, there is a fray to be fought, between 
 sir Hugh the Welch priest, and Cuius the French 
 do<5lor. 
 
 Ford. Good mine host o' the Garter, a word witii 
 you. 
 
 Host. What say'st thou, bully-rook ? 
 
 [ They go a little aside. 
 
 Shal. [To Page.] Will you go with us to beliold 
 it ? My merry host hath had the measuring of tlieir 
 weapons; and, I think, he hath appointed them con- 
 trary places : for, believe me, I hear, tlie r.arbon is 
 no jester. Hark, I will tell you what our srort shall 
 be.' 
 
 Host. Hast thou no suit against my knight, my 
 guest-cavalier ? 
 
 Ford. None, I protest: but I'll give you a }>ottle 
 of burnt sack to give me recourse to him, and tell 
 him, my name is Brook, only for a jest. 209 
 
 Host. My hand, bully : thou shalt have egress and 
 regress ; said I well ? and thy name shall be Brook : 
 It is a merry Icnighl. — Vv 111 you go an-heirs > 
 
 2 ' " ' Shal.
 
 Acin. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 3,5 
 
 Sfial. Have witli you, mine host. 
 
 Page. I have heard, the Frenchman hath good skill 
 in his rapier. 
 
 Shal. Tut, sir, I could have told you more : In 
 these times you stand on distance, your passes, stoc- 
 cado's, and 1 know not what : 'tis the heart, master 
 Page; 'tis here, 'tis here. I have seen the time, wirh 
 my long sword, I would have made you four tall 
 fellows skip like rats. £21 
 
 Host. Here, boys, here, here I shall we wag ? 
 
 Page. Havev\ith yoa : — 1 had rather hear them 
 scold than fight. 
 
 [Exeunt Hcst, Shallow, and Page. 
 
 fom. Though Page be a secure fool, and stand 
 so tirmly on his wife s frailty, \et I cannot put off 
 my opinion so easily : She was in his company at 
 Page's house ; and, what they made there, I know 
 not. Well, 1 will look further into't : and I have a 
 disguise to sound Falstaff : If I find her honest, I lose 
 not my labour; if she be otlieruise, 'tis labour v.ell 
 bestow'd. [Exit. 232 
 
 SCEXE II. 
 
 TJie Garter bin. Enter Falstaff and Pistol. 
 
 FaL I will not lend th.ee a penny. 
 
 Pist. Why, then the world's mine oyster, which I 
 with sword will open. — I will retort the sum in 
 equipage. 
 
 D ij Fal,
 
 36 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. A6llh 
 
 Fal. Not a penny. 1 have been content, sir, you 
 should lay my countenance to pawn : I have grated 
 upon my good friends for three reprieves for you and 
 your coach-fellow, Nym ; or else you had look'd 
 through the grate like a geminy of baboons. lam 
 damn'd in hell, for swearing to gentlemen my friends, 
 you were good soldiers, and tall fellows : and when 
 mistress Bridget lost the handle of her fan, I took't 
 upon mine honour, thou hadst it not. 
 
 Pist. Didst thou not share ? hadst thou not fifteen 
 pence ? 247 
 
 Fal. Reason, you rogue, reason : Think'st thou, 
 I'll endanger my soul gratis? At a word, hang no 
 more about me, I am no gibbet for you :■ — go. — A 
 short knife and a thong, — to your manor of Pickt- 
 hatch, go. — You'll not bear a letter for me, you rogue ! 
 — you stand upon your honour ! — Why, thou uncon- 
 finable baseness, it is as much as I can do, to keep the 
 terms of my honour precise. I, I, I myself some- 
 times, leaving the fear of heaven on the left-hand, 
 and hiding mine honour in my necessity, am fain to 
 shuffle, to hedge, and to lurch ; and yet you, rogue, 
 vi'ill ensconce your rags, your cat-a-mountain looks, 
 your red-lattice phrases, and your bold-beating oaths, 
 under tlie shelter of your honour ! You will not do 
 it, yoU? 262 
 
 Fist. I do relent j What wouldst thou more oF man ? 
 
 Enter Robin. 
 
 Rcb. Sir, here's a woman would speak with you. 
 
 FaL
 
 A^II. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 37 
 
 Fai. Let her approach. 
 
 Enter Mistress Quickly. 
 
 Quic. Give your worship good-morrow. 
 
 Fal. Good-morrow, good wife. 
 
 Quic. Not so, an't please your worship. 
 
 FaL Good maid, then. 
 
 (Jidc. I'll be sworn ; as my mother was, the first 
 hour I was born. 271 
 
 Fai. I do believe tlie sv.-earer : What with me ? 
 
 Oidc. Sliall I vouchsafe your worship a word or 
 tivo ? 
 
 FaL Two thousand, fair woman ; and I'll vouch- 
 s<ife thee the hearing. 
 
 Qmc. There is one mistress Ford, sir ; — I pray, 
 come a little nearer this ways : — I myself dwell with 
 master doctor Caius. 279 
 
 Fa/. Well, on : Mistress Ford, you say, 
 
 Quic. Your worship says very true : I pray your 
 worship, come a little nearer this ways. 
 
 Fai. 1 warrant thee, nobody l.ears ; — mine own 
 people, mine own people. 
 
 Quic. Are they so ? Heaven bless them, and make 
 them his ser\'ants ! 
 
 Fal. Well : mistress Ford ; what of her ' 
 
 Quic. Why, sir, she's a good creature. Lord, 
 lord ! your worship's a wanton : Well, heaven for- 
 give you, and all of us, I pray! & ;o 
 
 Fal. Mistress Ford ; — come, mispress Ford, 
 
 Q/iit. Marry, this is the short and tlie long of it 5 
 D iij you 
 
 1 
 
 .«_^ C-/ '.SL ■-.-■' O'
 
 gS MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. AclII. 
 
 you have brought her into such a canaries, as 'tis 
 •wonderful. The best courtier of them all, when the 
 court lay at Windsor, could never have brought her 
 to such a canary. Yet there has been knights, and 
 lords, and gentlemen, with their coaches ; I warrant 
 you, coach after coach, letter after letter, gift after 
 gift ; smelling so sweetly (all musk), and so rusling, 
 I warrant you, in silk and gold ; and in such alligant 
 terms ; and in such wine and sugar of the best, and 
 the fairest, that would have won any woman's heart ; 
 and, I warrant you, they could never get an eye-wink 
 of her. — I had myself twenty angels given me this 
 morning : but I defy all angels (in any such sort as 
 they say), but in the way of honesty : — and, I warrant 
 you, the)'' could never get her so nuicli as sip on a 
 cup with the proudest of them all ; and yet there h.is 
 been earls, nay, which is more, pensioners j but, I 
 warrant you, all is one with her. 310 
 
 Fal. But what says she to me ? be brief, my good 
 she Mercury. 
 
 Qiiic. Marry, she hath receiv'd your letter j for the 
 vviiich she thanks you a thousand times : and she gives 
 \ou to notify, that her husband v.ill be absci^ce from 
 his house between ten and eleven, 
 
 Fal. Ten and eleven. 
 
 Quic. Ay, forsooth ; and t!ien ypu may come and 
 see the pifture, she says, that you wot of j — master 
 Ford, her husband, will be from home. Alas! the 
 s^^ eet woman leads an ill life with him j lie's a very 
 jealousy man ; she leads a very frampold life with 
 
 jiim.
 
 AclII. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 39 
 
 him, good heart. 30.^ 
 
 Fal. Ten and eleven : Woman, commend me to 
 her ; I will not fail her. 
 
 Ouic. Why, you say well : But I have another mes- 
 senger to your worship : Mistress Page has her hearty 
 commendations to you too ; — and let me tell you in 
 your ear, she's as fartuous a civil modest wife, and 
 one (I tell you) that will not miss you morning nor 
 evening pi-ayer, as any is in Windsor, whoe'er be the 
 other: and she bade me tell your worship, that her 
 husband is seldom from home; but, she hopes, there 
 will come a time. I never knew a woman so dote 
 upon a man; surely, I think you have charms, la! 
 yes, in truth. 
 
 Fal. Not I, I assure thee ; setting the attraction of 
 my good parts aside, I have no other charms. 
 
 Quic. Blessing on your heart for't ! 
 
 Fal. But, I pray tliee, tell me this : has Ford's wife, 
 and Page's v.ife, acquainted each other how they love 
 me? 
 
 (hiic. That were a jest, indeed ! — they have not so 
 little grace, I hope : — that were a trick, indeed! But 
 mistress Page would desire you to send her your little 
 page, of all loves j her husband has a marvellous in- 
 fection to the little page : and, truly, master Page is 
 an honest man. Never a wife in Windsor leads a 
 better life tluin she does ; do what she will, say what 
 she will, take all, pay all, go to bed when she list, 
 rise when she list, all is as she will ; and, truly, she 
 deserves it ; for if there be a kind woman in Vv'indsor, 
 
 slie
 
 4© MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. AEl II. 
 
 sl e is one. You must send her your page j no re- 
 medy. 354 
 
 Fal. Why, I will. 
 
 Quic. Nay, but do so then : and, look you, he may 
 come and go between you both; and, in any case, 
 liave a nay- word, that you may know one another's 
 mind, and the boy never need to understand any 
 thing ; for 'tis not good that children should know 
 any wickedness : old folks, you know, have discre- 
 tion, as they say, and know the world. 362 
 
 Fal. Fare thee well : commend me to them both : 
 there's my pin-se ; I am yet thy debtor. — Boy, go 
 along with this woman. — This news distracts mc ! 
 
 [Exeunt Quickly and Robin. 
 
 Pist. This pink is one of Cupid's carriers : — 
 Clap on more sails ; pursue ; up with your fights j 
 Give fire j she is my prize, or ocean whelm them all ! 
 
 [Exit Pistol. 
 
 Fal. Say'st thou so, old Jack ? go thy ways ; I'll 
 make more of thy old body than 1 have done. Will 
 they yet look after thee .?'Wilt thou, after the expence 
 of so much money, be now a gainer ? Good body, I 
 thank thee : Let them say, 'tis grossly done, so it be 
 fairly done, no matter. 374 
 
 Enter Bardolph. 
 
 Bard. Sir John, there's one master Brook below 
 would fain speak with you, and be acquainted with 
 you ; and hath sent your worship a morning's draught 
 of sack. 
 
 Fal.
 
 AclII, MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR, 4I 
 
 Fat. Brook, is his name ? 
 
 Bard. Ay, sir. 380 
 
 Fal, Call him in; [£,vzV Bardolph.] SuchBrooks 
 
 are welcome to me, that o'erflow such liquor. Ah ! 
 
 ha ! mistress Ford and mistress Page, have I encom- 
 
 pass'd you ? go to ; via ! 
 
 Re-enter BAKDOL?Hy zviiAFoKD disguised. 
 
 Ford. Bless you, sir. 
 
 Fa/. And you, sir : Would you speak with me ? 
 
 Ford. I make bold, to press with so little prepara- 
 tion upon you. 
 
 Fai. You're welcome ; What's your will ? Give us 
 leave, drawer. [Exit Bakdolfh, 
 
 Ford. Sir, I am a gentleman that have spent much ; 
 my name is Brook. 392 
 
 Fa/. Good master Brook, I desire more acquaint- 
 ance of you. 
 
 Ford. Good sir John, I sue for yours : not to 
 charge you ; for I must let you understand, I think 
 myself in better plight for a lender than you are : the 
 which hath something embolden'd me to this unsea^ 
 son'd intrusion ; for they say, if money go before; all 
 ways do lie open. 400 
 
 Fa/. Money is a good soldier, sir, and will on. 
 
 Ford. Troth, and I have a bag of money here 
 troubles m.e : if you will help me to bear it, sir John> 
 take all, or Jialf, for easing me of the carriage. 
 
 Fa/. Sir, I know not how I may deserve to be your 
 porter. 
 
 Ford.
 
 42 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. ABII. 
 
 Ford. I will tell you, sir, if you will give me the 
 hearing. 
 
 Fal. Speak, good master Brook ; I shall be glad to 
 be your servant. 410 
 
 Ford. Sir, I hear you are a scholar, — I will be brief 
 with you 5 — and you have been a man long known to 
 me, though I had never so good means, as desire, to 
 make myself acquainted with you. 1 shall discover 
 a thing to you, wherein I must very much lay open 
 mine own imperfedtion : but, good sir John, as you 
 have one eye upon my follies, us you hear them un- 
 folded, turn another into the register of your own; 
 that I may pass with a reproof the easier, sith you 
 yourself know, how easy it is to be such an offender. 
 
 Fal. Very well, sir; proceed. 421 
 
 Ford. There is a gentlewoman in this town, her 
 husband's name is Ford. 
 
 Fal. Well, sir. 
 
 Ford. I have long lov'd her, and, I protest to yoii, 
 bestow'd much on her ; follow'd her with a doting- 
 observance ; engross'd opportunities to meet her ; 
 fee'd every slight occasion, that could but niggardly 
 give me sight of her ; not only bought many presents 
 to give her, but liave given largely to many, to know 
 what she would have given : briefly, I have pursued 
 her, as love hath pursued me ; which hath been, on 
 the wing of all occasions. But whatsoever I have 
 merited, either in my mind, or in my means, meed, 
 I am sure, I have received none ; unless experience 
 be a jewel ; that I have purchai>'d at an infinite rate ; 
 
 iind
 
 AB II. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 43 
 
 and that hath taught me to say this : 437 
 
 Love like a s/iadozu flies, when substance love pursues ; 
 Pursuing that that jiieSy and jlying what pursuts. 
 
 Fal. Have you received no promise of satisfactioa 
 at Iier hands ? 
 
 Ford. Never. 
 
 Fal. Have you importun'd her to such a purpose ? 
 
 Ford, Never. 
 
 Fal. Of what quality was your love then ? 
 
 Ford, Like a fair house, built upon another man's 
 ground j so that I have lost my edifice, by mistaking 
 the phice where I erected it. 
 
 Fal. To what purpose have you unfolded tliis to 
 me ? 4 50 
 
 Ford. When I liave told you that, I have told you 
 all. Some say, that, tliough she appear honest to me, 
 yet, in other places, she enlargeth her mirth so tar, 
 that there is shrewd construclion made of Iier. Now, 
 sir John, liere is the heart of my purpose : You are a 
 geJitleman of excellent breeding, admirable discouise, 
 of great admittance, autlientic in your plate u;ul 
 person, generally aliow'd for your many v\ar-l!ke, 
 court-like, and learned preparations. 
 
 Fal. O sir ! 4 Go 
 
 Ford. Believe it, for you know it : — There is money j 
 spend it, spend it ; sjicnd more ; spend all I liave ; 
 only give me so much, of your time in excliange of it, 
 as 10 lay an amiable siege to the honesty of this Ford's 
 
 w ife :
 
 44 MERXY WIVES OF WINDSOR. AH IL 
 
 wife: use your art of wooing, win her to consent to 
 you ; if any man may, you may as soon as any. 
 
 Fal. Would it apply well to the vehemence of your 
 affe*5tion, that I should win what you would enjoy ? 
 methinks, you prescribe to yourself very preposte- 
 rously. 470 
 
 Ford, O, understand my drift ! she dwells so se- 
 curely on the excellency of her honour, that the foliy 
 of my soul dares not present itself; she is too bright 
 to be look'd against. Now, could I come to her with 
 any detection in my hand, my desires had instance 
 and argument to commend themselves; I could drive 
 her then from the ward of her purity, her reputation, 
 lier marriage vow, and a thousand other her defences, 
 which now are too too strongly embattled against me : 
 What say you to't, sir John ? 480 
 
 Fal. Master Brook, I will first make bold with your 
 .money; next, give me your hand; and last, as I am 
 a gentleman, you shall, if you will, enjoy Ford's wife. 
 
 Ford. O good sir ! 
 
 Fal. Master Brook, I say you shall. 
 , Ford. Want no money, sir John, you shall want 
 none. 
 
 , Fal. Want no mistress Ford, master Brook, you 
 shall want none. I shall be with her (I may tell you) 
 by her own appointment ; even, as you came in to 
 me, her assistant, or go-between, parted from me : I 
 say, I shall be with her between ten and eleven ; for 
 at that time the jealous rascally knave, her husband, 
 
 will
 
 A£lll. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 4,5 
 
 will be forth. Gome you to me at night \ you sliall 
 know Iiow I speed. ^c;^ 
 
 Ford. I am blest in your acquaintance. Do you 
 know Ford, sir ? 
 
 Fal. Hang him, poor cuckoldly knave ! I know 
 him not :■ — ytt I wrong him to call him poor ; they 
 say, the jealous wittoUy knave hath masses of money ; 
 for the which, his wife seems to me wcll-favottr'd. I 
 will use her as the key of the cuckoldly rogue's cof- 
 fer ; and tliere's my hai-vest-home. 503 
 
 Ford. I would you knew Ford, sir , that you might 
 avoid him, if you saw him. 
 
 Fal. Hang him, mechanical salt -butter rogue! I 
 will stare him out of his wits ; I will awe him with 
 my cudgel j it shall hang like a meteor o'er the cuck- 
 old's horns: master Brook, thou shalt know, I. will 
 predominate over the peasant, and thou shalt lie with 
 his wife. — Come to me soon at night : — Ford's a 
 knave, and 1 will aggravate his style ; thou, master 
 Brook, shalt know him for knave and cuckold ; — 
 come to me soon, at night. [Exit. 
 
 Ford. What a damn'd Epicurean rascal is tins ! — ' 
 My heart is ready to crack with impatience. — Who 
 says, tliis is improvident jealousy ? my wife hath sent 
 to him, the hour is fix'd, the m.atch is made : Would 
 any man have thought this? — See the hell of having a 
 false woman ! my bed shall be abus'd, my coifers ran- 
 sacked, my reputation gnawn at ; and I shall not only 
 receive tiiis villainous wrong, but stand under the 
 adoption of abominable terms, and by him that does 
 E me
 
 ^6 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. ^^ !l. 
 
 me this wrong. Terms! names] — Amaimon sounds 
 viell ; Lucifer, well ; Barbason, well ; yet they are 
 devils' additions, the names of fiends : but cuckold ! 
 wittol! cuckold! the devil himself liath not such a 
 name. Page is an ass, a secure ass ; lie will trust his 
 wife, he will not be jealous : I will rather trust a 
 Fleming with my butter, parson Hugh the Welch- 
 man with my cheese, an Irishman with my aqua-vitas 
 bottle, or a thief to walk my ambling gelding, tlia 
 
 lan 
 
 my wife with herself: then she plots, then she rumi- 
 nates, then she devises : and what they think in their 
 hearts they may elieft, they will break their hearts 
 but they will effeft. Heaven be prais'd for. my jea- 
 lousy 1 — Eleven o'clock the hour 5 — I will prevent 
 this, dete6f my wife, be reveng'd on Falstatf, and 
 laugh at Page : I will about it j — ^bet,ter three hours 
 too soon, than a minute too late. Fie, fie, iie! cuck- 
 old ! cuckold! cuckold! [Exit. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 Windsor-Park. Enter Caius and RuGBT. 
 
 Cams. Jack Rugby ! 
 
 Rug, Sir. 
 
 Cams. Vat is de clock, Jack ? 
 
 Rug. 'Tis past tiie hour, sir, that sir Hugh pro- 
 misM to meet. 
 
 Caius. By gar, he has save his soul, dat he is no 
 come ; he has prav his Pxble veil, dat he is no come.: 
 
 by
 
 AclII. MERRY WIVE? OF V/IN'::) ?0R. 47 
 
 by gar, Jack Rugby, he is dexd already, if he be 
 come. 
 
 Rug. He Is wise, sir; he knev.- your worship would 
 kill him, if he came. 
 
 Caius. By gar, de herring is no dead, so as I vill 
 kill him. Take your rapier, jack 5 I vill tell you 
 how I vill kill him. 
 
 Rug. Alas, sir, I cannot fence. 
 
 Caius. Villan-a, take your rapier. 
 
 Rug. Forbear ; here's company. 
 
 Enter Host y Shallow, Slender, aridVAOE. 
 
 Host. 'Bless thee, bully do6lor. 
 
 S'iai. 'Save you, master doaor Caius. 560 
 
 Page. No\\', good master docror ! 
 - S/cn. Give you good-morrow, sir. 
 
 Caius. Vat be all you, one, two, tree, four, come 
 for? 
 
 Host. To see thee fxgh<-, to s?e thee foin, to see 
 thee traverse, to see. thee here, to see thee tliere ; to see 
 tiiee pass thy punto, thy stock, thy reverse, thy dis- 
 tance, thy moutant. Is he dead, my Ethiopian ? is 
 he dead, my Francisco ? ha, bully ! What says my 
 j^sculapius ? my Galen ? my heart of elder ? ha I- is 
 he dead, bully Stale ? is lie dead ? ^571 
 
 Caius. By gar, he is de coward Jack priest of tb.e 
 vorld ; he is not shew his face. 
 
 Host. Thou art a Castilian king, Urinal! He£lor of 
 Greece, my boy ! 
 
 Caius. I pray you bear vitness that me liavc stay 
 E ij six
 
 48 MEP.RY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Acl I!. 
 
 six or seven, two, tree hours for him, and lie is no 
 come. 
 
 Shal. He is the wiser man, master do6lor : he is a 
 ciirer of souls, and you a curer of bodies j if you 
 should fight, you go against the hair of your profes- 
 sions : is it not true, master Page ? 582 
 
 Page, Master Shallow, you have yourself been a 
 great fighter, though now a man of peace. 
 
 Shal. Body-kins, master Page, though I now be 
 old, and of the peace, if I see a sword out, my finger 
 itches to make one : though we are justices, and doc- 
 tors, and churchmen, master Page, we have some 
 salt of our youth in us ; we are the sons of women, 
 master Page. ^go 
 
 Page. 'Tis true, master Shallow, 
 
 Shal. It will b€ found so, master Page. Master 
 doftor Caius, I am come to fetch you home. I am 
 sworn of the peace : you have shewn yourself a wise 
 physician, and sir Hugh hath shewn himself a wise 
 and patient churchman : you must go with me, mas- 
 ter do6lor. 
 
 Host. Pardon, guest justice : — A word, monsieur 
 mock-water. 
 
 Caius. Mock-vater ! vat is dat ? 6co 
 
 Hpst, Mock-water, in our English tongue, is va- 
 lour, bully. 
 
 Caius. By gar, then I have as much mock-vater as 
 de Englishman: — Scurvy-jack-dog-priest! by gar, 
 me vill cut his ears. 
 
 fiost. He will clapper-claw thee tightly, bully. 
 
 Caius,
 
 A^ll. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 49 
 
 Caius. Clapper-de-claw ! vat is liar ? 
 
 Host. That is, he will make tl.ee amends. 
 
 Cains. By gar, me do look, he shall clapper-d?^- 
 claw me J for, by gar, me vill have it. 610 
 
 Host, And I will provoke him to't, or let him wag. 
 
 Caius. Me tank you for dat. 
 
 Host. And moreover, bully, — But first, master guest, 
 and master Page, and eke cavalero Slender, go you 
 through the town to Frogmore. [Aside to them. 
 
 Page. Sir Hugh is there, is he ? 
 
 Host. He is there : see what humour he is in ; and 
 I will bring the dodlor about the fields ^ will it do 
 well? 
 
 Shal. We will do it. 620 
 
 AIL Adieu, good master doctor. 
 
 \_Exeunt Page, Shallow, and Slender. 
 
 Caius. By gar, me vill kill de priest j fur h.e speak 
 for a jack-an-ape to Anne Page. 
 
 Host. Let him die : but, first, sheath thy impa- 
 tience ; throw cold water on thy choler : go about 
 the fields with me through Frogmore j I will bring 
 thee where mistress Anne Page is, at a farm-house a 
 feasting; and thou shalt woo her : Cry 'd game, sa:d 
 I well ? 629 
 
 Caius. By gar, me tank you for dat : by gar, I 
 love ycu j and I shall procure-a you de good guest, 
 de eail, de knight, de lords, de gentlemen, my pa- 
 tients. 
 
 Host. For th.e which, I will be thy adversary toward 
 Anne Page J said I v^ell ? 
 
 E i ij Caius,
 
 so MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR, ASl III, 
 
 Caius. By gar, 'tis good; veil said. 
 
 Host. Let us wag then. 
 
 Cains. Come at my heels, Jack Rugby. [Exeunt, 
 
 \ 
 
 ACT III. SCENE I. 
 
 Frogmore. Enter Evans and Simple. 
 
 Evans. 
 I PRAY you now, good master Slender's serving- 
 man, and friend Simple by your name, which way 
 have you looked for master Caius, that calls himself 
 Doaor of Physkk? 
 
 Simp. Marry, sir, the Pitty-wary, the Park-ward, 
 every way j old Windsor way, and everyway but the 
 town way. 
 
 Eva. I most fdhemently desire you, you will also 
 look that way. 
 
 Simp. I will, sir. lo 
 
 Eva, 'Pless my soul ! how full of cholers I am, 
 and trempling of mind ! — I shall be glad, if he have 
 deceived me : how melancholies I am ! — I will knog 
 his urinals about his knave's costard, when I have 
 good opportunities for the 'ork : — 'pless my soul ! 
 
 iSings, 
 By shallow rivers, to whose falls 
 Melodious birds sing madrigals ; 
 There will we make our pcds of roses f 
 And a thousand vragrant posies. 
 
 By shallow 2q 
 
 *Mercy
 
 AclIIl. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 5I 
 
 'Mercy on me ! I have a great dispositions to cry. 
 
 Melodious birds sing madrigals ; 
 
 When as I sat in Babylon 
 
 And a thousand vragrant posies. 
 By shallow 
 
 Simp. Yonder he is coming, this way, sir Hugh. 
 Eva, He's welcome : 
 
 By shallow riverSj to whose falls 
 
 Heaven prosper the right ! — What weapons is he ? 
 
 Simp. No v.eaponSj sir : There comes my master, 
 master Shallow, and anotlier gentleman from Frog- 
 more, over the stile, this way. 3a 
 
 Eva. Pray you, give me my gown i or else keep it 
 in your arms. 
 
 Enter Page, Shallow, and Slender, 
 
 Shal. How now, master parson ? Good-morrow, 
 good sir Hugii. Keep a gamester from the dice, and 
 a good student from his book, and it is wonderful. 
 
 Slen. Ah sweet Anne Page! 
 
 Page. Save you, good sir Hugh ! 
 
 Eva. 'Pless you from his mercy sake, all of you ! 
 
 Shal. What ! the sw ord and the word ! do you 
 study them both, master parson ? 42 
 
 Page. And youthful still, in your doublet and hose, 
 tliis raw rheumatick day ? 
 
 Eva-,
 
 ^2 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. AB HI. 
 
 Eyd' There is reasons and causes for it. 
 
 Page. We are come to you, to do a good office, 
 master parson, 
 
 Eva. Fery well : What is it ? 
 
 Page. Yonder is a most reverend gentleman, who 
 belike, having receiv'd wrong by some person, is at 
 most odds with his own gravity and patience, that 
 ever you saw. 52 
 
 Shal. I have liv'd fourscore years, and upward j I 
 never heard a man of his place, gravity, and learning, 
 so wide of his own respecl:. 
 
 Eva. What is he ? 
 
 Page. I think you know him; master do6lor Cains, 
 the renowned French physician. 
 
 Eva. Got's will, and his passion o' my heart ! I had 
 as lief you would tell me of a mess of porridge. 
 
 Page. Why ? 61 
 
 Eva. He has no more knowledge in Hibocrates 
 and Galen, — and he is a knave besides ; a cowardly 
 knave, as you would desires to be acquainted withal. 
 
 Page. I warrant you, he's tlie man should fight 
 vith him. 
 
 Slcn. O, sweet Anne Page ! 
 
 Enter WosTy Caius, cwaf Rugby. 
 
 Shal It appeirs so, by his weapons : — Keen them 
 asunder ; — here comes do6lor Caius. 
 
 Page. Nay, good master paison, keep in your 
 veapon. 
 
 Shal. So do you, good masicr doctor. 
 
 Host.
 
 AQIII. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.. 53 
 
 Host. Disarm them, and let tliem question ; let 
 tlicm keep their limbs whole, and hack our English. 
 
 Cuius. I pray you, let-a me speak a word vit your 
 ear : Verefore vill you not meet-a me ? 
 
 Eva. Pray you, use your patience : In good time. 
 
 Cains. By gar, you are de coward, de Jack dog, 
 John ape. j9 
 
 Eva. Pray you, let us not be laughing-stogs to 
 other men's humours j I desire you in friendship, and 
 will one way or other make you amends : — I will 
 knog your urinals about your knave's cogs-combs, for 
 missing your meetings and appointments. 
 
 Cuius. Diable! — Jack Rugby, — mine Host de Jar- 
 tcrrey liave I not stay for him, to kill him ? have I 
 not, at de place 1 did appoint ? 
 
 Eva. As I am a Christians soul, nou-, look you, 
 this is the place appointed; I'll be judgment by mine 
 host of the Garter. 90 
 
 Host. Peace, I say, Gallia and Gaul, French and 
 Vv'elch, soul-curer and body-curer. 
 
 Cuius. Ay, dat is very good ! excellent ! 
 
 Host. Peac^, I say; hear mine host of the Garter. 
 Am I politick ? am I subtle ? am I a Machiavel ? 
 Shall I lose my doftor ? no; he gives me the potions, 
 and the motions. Shall I lose my parson ? my priest? 
 my sir Hugh? no ; he gives me tlie pro-verbs and the 
 no-verbs. — Give me thy hand, terrestrial; so: — Give 
 rne thy hand, celestial ; so. — Boys of art, I have de- 
 ceiv d you both ; I have direfted you to wrong 
 places ; your hearts are mighty, your skins are whole, 
 
 and
 
 54 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. ASIIIL 
 
 and let burnt sack be the issue. Come, lay their 
 
 swords to pawn : — Follow me, lad of peace ; follow, 
 follow, follow. 
 
 S/ial. TYiisl" me, a mad host. — Follow, gentlemen, 
 follow. 
 
 Slcji. O, sweet Anne Page! 
 
 [Exeunt Shal. Slen. Page, and Host. 
 
 Carus. Ha ! do I perceive dat ? have you make-a 
 <le sot of us ? b.a, ha I i lo 
 
 £va. liiis is well ; he has made us liis vlouting- 
 stog. — I desire you, that we may be friends ; and let 
 us knog our prains together, to be revenge on this 
 same scald, scurvy, cogging companion, the host of 
 the Garter. 
 
 Caif/s. By gar, vit all my heart ; he promise to 
 bring me vere is Anne Page : by gar, he deceive me 
 too. 
 
 Eva. Well, I will smite his noddles ; — Pray you 
 follow. 
 
 SCENE ir. 
 
 The Street in IVindsor . Enter Mistress Page aud 
 Robin. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Nay, keep your way, little gallant ; 
 you were wont to be a follower, but now you are a 
 leader: Wiiether had you rather, lead mine eyes, or 
 t;}'e your master's heels ? 
 
 Rob.
 
 Acllll. MLRRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. j,5 
 
 Rob. I had rather, forsooth, go before you like a 
 man, than follow him like a dwaif. 
 
 Mrs. Page. O, you are a flattering boy ; now, I see, 
 you 11 be a courtier. 
 
 EnUr Ford. 
 
 Ford. Well met, mistress Page : Whither go you ? 
 
 Mrs. Page, Truly, sir, to ^ec \our wife ; Is sJ)c at 
 home? 131 
 
 Ford. Ay ; and as idle as she may hang togetJier, 
 for want of company : I think, if )our hubbajids 
 were dead, you two would marry. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Be sure of that, — two other husbands. 
 
 Ford. Where had you this pretty weather-cock ? 
 
 Mrs. Pagf^' I cannot tell what the dickens his name 
 is my husband had him of : What do you call your 
 knight's name, sirrah ? 
 
 Rob. Sir John Falstaff. 
 
 Ford. Sir John Falstaff! 
 
 Mrs. Page. He, he ; I can never hit on's name. 
 There is such a league between my good man and he! 
 — Is your wife at home, indeed r 
 
 Ford. Indeed, she is. 
 
 Mrs. Page. By your leave, sir; — I am sick, 'till I 
 see her. [Excvnt Mrs. Page and Robin. 
 
 Ford. Has Page any brains ? hath he any e\es } 
 hath he any thinking? sure they sleep; he hath i^.o 
 use of them. Why, this boy will carry a letter twen- 
 ty miles, as easy as a cannon will shoot point b;ank 
 twelve score. He pieces-out his ^n ife's liiclinaticn ; he 
 
 gives
 
 ^6 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR, AQ III. 
 
 gives her folly motion, and advantage ; and now she's 
 going to my wife, and Falstaif's boy with her. A 
 man may hear this shower sing in the wind! — and Fal- 
 
 sraff's boy with her ! Good plots ! — they are laid ; 
 
 and our revolted wives share damnation together. 
 Well ; I will take him, then torture my wife, pluck 
 the borrowed veil of modesty from the so seeming 
 mistress Page, divulge Page himself for a secure and 
 wilful Actseon ; and to these violent proceedings all my 
 neighbours shall cry aim. The clock, gives me my 
 cue, and my assurance bids me search ; there I shall 
 find Falstaft' : I shall be rather prais'd for this, than 
 mock'd ; for it is as positive as the earth is firm, that 
 Falstaff is there : I will go. 166 
 
 Enter Page, Shallow, Slender, Host^ Evans, 
 and Caius. 
 
 Shal. Pagey &c. Well met, master Ford. 
 
 Fo)-d. Trust me, a good knot : I have good cheer 
 at home; and, I pray you, all go with me. 
 
 SAaL I must excuse myself, master Ford. 
 
 Skn. And so must I, sir j we have appointed to 
 dine with mistress Anne, and I would not break with 
 her for more money than I'll speak of. 
 
 S/iai. We have linger' d about a match between 
 A.nne Page and my cousin Slender, and this day we 
 shall have our answer. 
 
 Sicn. I hope, I have your good will, father Page. 
 
 Page, You have, master Slender j I stand wholly 
 
 for
 
 Adlll. MERRV WIVES OF WINDSOR. ^7 
 
 for you : — but my wife, master doctor, is for you al- 
 to^^ether. 180 
 
 Caius. Ay, by gar ; and de maid is love-a me j my 
 nursh-a Quickly tell me so mush. 
 
 Host. What say you to young master Fenton ? he 
 G:ipers, he dances, he has eyes of youth, he writes 
 verses, he speaks holy-day, he smells April and Alay. 
 he will carry't, he will carry't j 'tis in his buttons ; 
 lie will carry't. 
 
 Page. Not by my consent, I promise you. The 
 gentleman is of no having : he kept company with 
 the wild prince a.ad Poins ; he is of too high a re- 
 gion, he knows too much. No, he shall not knit a 
 knot in his fortunes with the finger of my substance ; 
 if he take her, let him take her simply ; the wealth 
 I h.ave waits on my consent, and my consent goes not 
 that way. lo^j 
 
 Ford. I beseech you, heartily, some of you go home 
 with me to dinner : besides your cheer, you shall have 
 sport; I will shew you a monster. — Master do6lor, 
 you shall go ; — so shall you, master Page ; — and you, 
 sir Hugh. 200 
 
 Shal. Well, fare you well : — we shall have the freer 
 wooing at master Page*s. 
 
 Caius. Go home, John Rugby ; I come anon. 
 
 Host. Farewel, my hearts: I will to my honest 
 knight Falstaff, and drink canary with him. 
 
 Ford. [Aside] I thijik, I shall drink in pipe-wine 
 first with him j I'll make him dance. Will you ^o, 
 gentle* ? 
 
 F AiL
 
 ^8 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Acl IIL 
 
 All. Have with you, to see tliis monster. 
 
 [Exeunt, 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 Ford's Hov^e. Enter Mrs. Ford, Mrs. Page, and 
 Servants with a Basket. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. What, John! what, Robert! 21a 
 
 Mrs. Page. Quickly, quickly ; is the buck-basket — ■ 
 
 Mrs. Ford. I warrant : What, Robin, 1 say, 
 
 Mrs. Page. Come, come, come. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Here, set it down. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Give your men the charge ; we must 
 be brief. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Many, as I told you before, John, and 
 Robert, be ready here hard by in the brew-house; 
 and when I suddenly call on you, come forth, and 
 (without any pause or staggering) take this basket on 
 your shoulders : that done, trudge with it in all haste, 
 and carry it among the whitsters in Datchet mead, 
 and there empty it in the nmddy ditch, close by the 
 Thames side. 224 
 
 Mrs. Page. You will do it ? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. I have told them over and over ; tliey 
 lack no direftion : Be gone, and come when you are 
 call'd. [^Exeunt Servants, 
 
 Mrs. Page. Here comes little Robin. 
 
 Enter
 
 AcllII. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 59 
 
 Enter Robin. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. How now, my eyas-musket ? what news 
 with you ? 231 
 
 Rob. My master sh* John is come in at your back- 
 door, mistress Ford ; and requests your company. 
 
 Mrs. Page. You little Jack-a-lent, have you been 
 true to us ? 
 
 Rob. Ay, I'll be sworn : My master knows not of 
 )'Our being here; and hath threaten'd to put n\e into 
 everlasting liberty, if I tell you of it j for, he swears, 
 lie'll turn me away. 239 
 
 Mrs. Page. Thou'rt a good boy; this secrecy of 
 thine sliall be a tailor to thee, and shall make thee a 
 new doublet and hose. — I'll go hide me. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Do so: — Go tell thy master, I am alone. 
 Mistress Page, remember you your cue. 
 
 [Exit Robin. 
 
 Mrs. Page. I warrant thee ; if I do not aft it, hiss 
 me. [Exit Mrs. Page. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Go to then ; — we'll use this unwhole- 
 some hiunidity, this gross watry pumpion j — we'll 
 teach him to know turtles from jays. 249 
 
 Enter Falstaff. 
 
 Fal. Have I caught thee, my heavenly jewel? Why, 
 now let me die, for I have liv'd long enough ; this is 
 the period of my ambition : O this blessed hour ! 
 
 Mrs. Ford. O sweet sir John ! 
 
 Fal. Mistress Ford, I cannot cog, I cannot prate, 
 F i j mistress
 
 €o MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Acl IlL 
 
 mistress Ford. Now shall I sin in my wish : I would 
 thy husband were dead ; Til speak it before the best 
 lord, I would make thee my lady. 
 • Mrs. Ford. I your lady, sir John 1 abs, I should 
 be a pitiful lady. 2,59 
 
 Fal. Let the court of France shew me sucli ano- 
 ther ; I see how tliine eye would emulate the diamond : 
 Thou hast the right arched bent of the brow, that 
 becomes the ship-tire, the tire-valiant, or any tire of 
 Venetian admittance. 
 
 Mrs. Ford, A plain kerchief, sir John : my brows 
 become nothing else ; nor that well neither. 
 
 Fal. Thou art a traitor to say so : thou wculd'st 
 make an absolute courtier ; and the firm fixture of 
 thy foot would give an excellent motion to thy gait, in 
 a semi-circled farthingale. I see what thou v.ert, if 
 fortune thy foe were notj nature is thy friend: Come, 
 thou canst not hide it. 272 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Believe me, tliere"s no such tiling in 
 me. 
 
 Fal. What made me love thee ? let that persuade 
 thee, there's something extraordinary in thee. Come, 
 I cannot cog, and say, thou art this and that, like a 
 many of these lisping haw-thorn buds, that come like 
 women in men's apparel, and smell like Bucklers-bury 
 in simple-time ; I cannot : but I love thee j none but 
 thee ; and thou deservest it. 281 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Do not betray me, sir; I fear, you love 
 mistress Page. 
 
 fal. Thou miglit'st as well say, I love to walk by 
 
 the
 
 A8III. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 6i 
 
 the Counter-gate ; which is as hateful to me as tlic 
 reek of a Hme-kihi. 
 
 A/rj. Ford. Well, heaven knows how I love you j 
 and you shall one day find it. 
 
 Fa/. Keep in that mind ; I'll deserve it. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Nay, I must tell you, so you do ; or 
 else I could not be in that mind. 291 
 
 R06. [W^/^>^/;z] Mistress Ford, mistress Ford! here's 
 mistress Page at the door, sweating, and blowing, 
 and looking wildly, and would needs speak with you 
 presently. 
 
 Fa/. Slie shall not see me ; I will ensconce me be- 
 hind tlie arras. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Pray you, do so 5 she's a very tattling 
 woman . [ F a l s t a f f Aides himself. 
 
 Enter Mistress Page. 
 
 What's tlie matter ? how now ? 300 
 
 Mrs. Page. O mistress Ford, what have you done ? 
 you're sham'd, you are overthrown, you are undone 
 for ever. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. What's the matter, good mistress Page ? 
 
 Mrs. Page. O well-a-day, mistress Ford ! having 
 an honest man to your husband, to give him such 
 cause of suspicion ! 
 
 Mrs. Ford. What cause of suspicion? 
 
 Mrs. Page. What cause of suspicion ? — Out upon 
 you! — how am I mistook in you ? 310 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Why, alas! wiiat's the matter ? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Your husband's coming hither, woman, 
 F iij with
 
 62 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. AB III. 
 
 with all the officers in Windsor, to search for a gen- 
 tleman, that, he says, is here now in the house, by 
 your consent, to take an ill advantage of his absence: 
 You are undone. 
 
 Mrs. Ford, Speak louder. — [Aside] 'Tis not so, I 
 hope. 
 
 Mrs, Page. Pray heaven it be not so, that you have 
 such a man here ; but 'tis most certain your husband's 
 coming with half Windsor at his heels, to search for 
 such a one. I come before to tell you : If you know 
 yourself clear, why I am glad of it : but if you have 
 a friend here, convey, convey him out. Be not 
 amaz'd ; call all your senses to you ; defend your re- 
 putation, or bid farewel to your good life for ever. 
 
 Mrs, Ford. What shall I do ? — -There is a gentleman, 
 my dear friend ; and I fear not mine own shame, so 
 mucli as his peril : I had rather than a tliousand 
 pound, he were out of the house. 330 
 
 Mrs. Page, For shame, never stand you had rather^ 
 2iW<\you had rather \ your husband's here at hand, be- 
 think you of some conveyance ; in the house you 
 cannot hide him. — Oh, how have you deceived me ! — 
 Look, here is a basket ; if he be of any reasonable 
 stature, he may creep in here 5 and throw foul linen 
 upon him, as if it were going to bucking : Or, it is 
 wliiting time, send him by your two men to Datchet 
 mead. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. He's too big to go in there: What shall 
 I do ? 3.11 
 
 Re-enter
 
 Prmred for J3eIl,Bririili Litrarv StranaLonaan.jTilvii?'i785 .
 
 Jell!!. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 6^ 
 
 Re-enter Falstaff, 
 
 Fal. Let me see't, let me see't ! O let me see't! I'll 
 in, I'll in ; — follow your friend's counsel ; — I'll in. 
 
 !\drs. Page. What ! sir John Falstaff ? Are these 
 your letters, knight ? 
 
 Fal. I love thee, — help me away : let me creep in 
 
 here j TU never 
 
 [He goes into the Basket, tJiey cover him with foul 
 Linen. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Help to cover your master, boy : Call 
 your men, mistress Ford : — You dissembling knight \ 
 
 Mrs. Ford. What, John, Robert, John ! Go take 
 up these clothes here, quickly j Where's the cowl- 
 staff ? look, how you drumble : carry them to the 
 laundress in Datchet mead ; quickly, come. 353 
 
 FfiterFoKD, Page, Caius, and Sir Uvgu 'Evaks. 
 
 Ford. Pray you, come near : if I suspect without 
 cause, why then make sport at me, tlien let me be 
 your jest, I deserve it. — How now ? whither bear you 
 this } 
 
 Serv, To the laundress, forsooth. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Why, what have you to do whith.er they 
 bear it ? you were best meddle with buck-washing. 
 
 Ford. Buck f I would I could wash myself of the 
 buck ! Buck, buck, buck ? Ay, buck ; I warrant you, 
 buck; and of the season too, it shall appear. [Exeunt 
 Servants with the Basket. ] Gentlemen, I have dream'd 
 to-night; Til tell you my dream. Here, here, here 
 3 be
 
 64 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. A8IIL 
 
 be my keys : ascend my chambers, search, seek, find 
 out: I'll warrant, we'll unkennel the fox : — Let me 
 stop this way first : — So, now uncape. 368 
 
 Page. Good master Ford, be contented : you 
 wrong yourself too much. 
 
 Ford. True, master Page. — Up, gentlemen ; you 
 shall see sport anon : follow me, gentlemen. \^Exit. 
 
 Eva. This is fery fantastical humours, and jea- 
 lousies. 
 
 Cuius. By gar, 'tis no de fashion of France : it is 
 not jealous in France. 
 
 Page. Nay, follow him, gentlemen ; see the issue 
 of his search. [Excufjt. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Is there not a double excellency in this ? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. I know not which pleases me better, 
 that my husband is deceiv'd, or sir John. 381 
 
 Mrs. Page. What a taking was he in, wlien your 
 husband ask'd who was in the basket ! 
 
 Mrs. Ford. I am half afraid, he will have need of 
 washing ; so throwing him into the water will do him 
 a benefit. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Hang him, dishonest rascal I I would, 
 all of the same strain were in the same distress. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. I think, my husband hath some special 
 suspicion of Falstaff 's being here ; for I never saw 
 him so gross in his 'ealousy till now. 391 
 
 Mrs. Page. I will lay a plot to tr\' that : And we 
 will yet have more tricks with Falstaff: his dissolute 
 disease will scarce obey this medicine. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Shall we send that foolish carrion, mis- 
 tress
 
 AHIJI. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. ^3 
 
 tress Quickly, to him, and excuse his throwing Into 
 the water ; and give him another hope, to betray him 
 to arwother punishment ? 
 
 Mrs. Page. We'll do it; let him be sent for to-mor- 
 row eight o'clock, to have amends. 409 
 
 Re-enter Ford, Page, and the rest at a Distance. 
 
 Ford. I cannot find him : may be tlie knave brag'd 
 of that he could not compass. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Heard you that ? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. I, I ; peace : You use me well, 
 
 master Ford, do you ? 
 
 Ford. Ay, I do so, 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Heaven make you better than your 
 thoughts ! 
 
 Fcrd. Amen. 
 
 Mrs. Page. You do yourself mighty wrong, master 
 Ford. 41 1 
 
 Ford. Ay, ay ; I must bear it. 
 
 Eva. If there be any pody in the house, and in tlie 
 chambers, and in the coffers, and in tlie presses, hea- 
 ven forgive my sins at the day of judgment ! 
 
 Cains. By gar, nor I too ; dere is no bodies. 
 
 Page. Fie, fie, master Ford ! are you not ashamM ? 
 what spirit, what devil suggests this imagination ? I 
 would not have your distemper in this kind, for tlie 
 wealth of Windsor- Castle. 420 
 
 Ford. 'Tis my fault, master Page : I suffer for it. 
 
 Eva. You suffer for a pad conscience : your wife 
 is as lionest a 'omans, as I will desires among five 
 
 thousand,
 
 66 MEP.RY WIVES OF WINDSOR. ABUI. 
 
 thousand, and five hundred too. 
 
 Caius. By gar, I see 'tis an honest woman. 
 
 Ford. Well ; — I promis'd you a dinner : — Come, 
 come, walk in the park : I pray you, pardon me j I 
 will hereafter make known to you, why I have done 
 this. Come, wife ; come, mistress Page ; I pray you 
 pardon me ; pray heartily, pardon me. 430 
 
 Page. Let's go in, gentlemen ; but, trust me, we'll 
 mock him. I do invite you to-morrow morning to 
 my house to breakfast ; after, we'll a birding toge- 
 ther; I have a fine hawk for the bush : shall it be so ? 
 
 Ford. Any thing. 
 
 Eva. If there is one, I shall make two in the com- 
 pany. 
 
 Caius. If there be one or two, I shall make -a de 
 turd. 
 
 Eva. In your teeth : — for shame. 440 
 
 Ford. Pray you go, master Page. 
 
 Eva. I pray you now, remembrance to-morrow on 
 the lousy knave, mine host. 
 
 Cairn. Dat is good ; by gar, vit all my heart. 
 
 Eva. A lousy knave j to have his gibes, and his 
 mockeries. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IF. 
 
 TkGE''s House. EnterF'E.^TON and Mistress AnneVAGE. 
 
 Fent. I see, I cannot get thy fatlier's love ; 
 Therefore no more turn me to him, sweet Nan. 
 
 Anne.
 
 Acllll. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 6j 
 
 Anne. Alas ! how then ? 
 
 Fcnt. Why, thou must be thyself. 450 
 
 He doth object, I am too great of birth; 
 And that, my state being gall'd with my expencc, 
 I seek to heal it only by his wealth : 
 
 Besides these, other bars he lays before me, 
 
 My riots past, my wild societies ; 
 And tells me, 'tis a thing impossible 
 1 should love thee, but as a property. 
 
 Amie. May be, he tells you true. 
 
 Pent. No, heaven so speed me in my time to come? 
 Albeit, I will confess, thy father's wealth ^60 
 
 Was the first motive that I woo'd thee, Anne : 
 Yet, wooing thee, I found thee of more value 
 Than stamps in gold, or sums in sealed bags j 
 And 'tis the very riches of thyself 
 That now I aim at. 
 
 Anne. Gentle master Fenton, 
 Yet seek my father's love ; still seek it, sir : 
 If opportunity and humblest suit 
 
 Cannot attain it, why then, Hark you hither. 
 
 Fenton and Mistress Anne go apart. 
 
 Enter Shallow, SlendePv, and Mrs. Quickly. 
 
 Shal, Break their talk, mlsirCiS Quickly j my kins- 
 man shall speak for himself. 471 
 
 Slcn. I'll make a shaft or a bolton't : 'slid, 'tii but 
 venturing. 
 
 ^/L/. Be not dismay'i. 
 
 SUn,
 
 68 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Acl III. 
 
 Sien. No, she shall not dismay mc : I care not for 
 that, — but that I am afeard, 
 
 Quic. Hark ye j master Slender would speak a word 
 with you. 
 
 Anne. I come to him. — This is my father's choice. 
 O, what a world of vile ill-favour'd faults 480 
 
 Look handsome in three hundred pounds a year ! 
 
 [Aside, 
 
 Quic. And how does good master Fenton ? Pray 
 you, a word with you. 
 
 S/m/. She's coming ; to her, coz. O boy, thou 
 hadst a father ! 
 
 Sien. I had a father, mistress Anne ; — my uncle 
 can tell you good je^ts of him : — Pray you, uncle, 
 tell mistress Anne the jest, how my father stole two 
 geese out of a pen, goad uncle. 
 
 S/ml. Mistress Anne, my cousin loves you. 490 
 
 Sien. Ay, that I do ; as well as I love any woman 
 in Glocestershire. 
 
 Shai. He will maintain you like a gentlewoman. 
 
 Sien. Ay, that I will, come cut and long tail, un- 
 der the, degree of a 'squire. 
 
 SAai. He will make you a hundred and fifty pounds 
 jointure. 
 
 -Anne. Good master Shallow, let him woo for himself. 
 
 Shai. Marry, I thank you for it ; I thank you for 
 that — ^good comfort. She calls you, coz : I'll leave 
 you. 501 
 
 Anne. Now, master Slender, 
 
 Sien. Now, good mistress Anne, 
 
 Anne.
 
 Ac! [II. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Eg 
 
 Anne. What is your will ? 
 
 Slen. My will ? od's heartlings, that's a pretty jest, 
 indeed! I ne'er made iny will yet, I thank heaven; 
 1 am not such a sickly creature, I give heaven praise. 
 
 Anne. I mean, master Slender, what would you 
 with me ? ,509 
 
 Slen. Truly, for mine own part, I would little or 
 nothing with you : Your father, and my uncle, have 
 made motions : if it be my luck, so ; if not, liappy 
 man be his dole 1 They can tell you how things go, 
 better than I can : You may ask your father ; h.ere 
 he comes. 
 
 Enter Page, and Mistress Page. 
 
 P(2ge. Now, master Slender : — Love him, daughter 
 
 Anne. 
 
 Why how now ! what does master Fenton here ? 
 You wrong me, sir, thus still to haunt my house : 
 I told you, sir, my^daughter is disposM of. 
 
 Fe/it. Nay, master Page, be not impatient. 523 
 Mrs. Page. Good master Fenton, come not to my 
 
 child. 
 Pa,qe. She is no match for you. 
 Pent. Sir, will you hear me ? 
 Page. No, good master Fenton. 
 Come, master Shallow; — come, sen Slender; iji : — 
 Knowing my mind, you wrong me, master Fenton. 
 [Exeunt PAGEy Shallow, £•//(/ Slender. 
 Que. Speak to mistress Page. 
 
 Et-nt. Good mistress Page, for that I l^ve your 
 ciaugliter 
 
 G In
 
 "Jo MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. AEl UL 
 
 In such a righteous fashion as I do, 
 Perforce, against all checks, rebukes, and manners, 
 I must advance the colours of my love, ^31 
 
 And not retire : Let me have your good will. 
 
 Anne, Good mother, do not marry me to yon* fool. 
 
 Mrs. Page. I mean it net ; I seek you a better hus- 
 band. 
 
 Q^uic. That's my master, master dottor. 
 
 Anne. Alas, I had rather be set quick i' the earth, 
 And bowl'd to death with turnips. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Come, trouble not yourself : Good 
 master Fenton, 
 I will not be your friend nor enemy : 
 My daughter will I question how she loves yon, 540 
 And as I find her, so am I affe6led ; 
 'Till then, farewel, sir : — She must needs go in. 
 Her father will be angry, 
 
 [Ex. Mrs. Page and Anne. 
 
 Fcnt. Farewel, gentle mistress ; farewel. Nan. 
 
 Quic. This is my doing now; — Nay, said I, will 
 you csst away your child on a fool, and a physician ? 
 Look on master Fenton : — this is my doing. 
 
 Pent. I thank thee ; and I pray thee, once to-night 
 give my sweet Nan this ring : There's for thy pains. 
 
 [Exit. 
 
 Quic. Now heaven send thee good fortune! A kind, 
 heart he hath : a woman would run through fire and 
 water for such a kind heart. But yet, I would my 
 master had mistress Anne j or I would master Slender 
 hud her ; or, in sooth, I v/ould master Fenton had 
 
 lier :
 
 AclIII, MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. J I 
 
 lier : I will do wliat I can for them all three ! for so 
 I have promis'd, and I'll be as good as my v/ord j 
 but speciously for master Fenton. Well, 1 must of 
 another errand to Sir John FalstafF for my two mis- 
 tresses ; What a beast am I to slack it ? [Exit. 
 
 SCENE V. 
 
 The Garter hin. Enter Falstaff end Bardolfh. 
 
 Fal. Bardolph, I say. — 5G0 
 
 Bard. Here, sir. 
 
 Fal. Go fetch me a quart of sack ; put a toast in't. 
 [Exit Bard. J Have I liv'd to be carried in a basket, 
 "like a barrow of butcher's offal ; and to be thrown 
 into the Thames ? Well ; if I be serv'd such another 
 trick, I'll have my brains ta'en out, and butter'd, and 
 give them to a dog for a new year's gift. The rogues 
 slighted me into the river with as little remorse as 
 they would have drown'd a bitch's blind puppies, 
 fifteen i' the litter : and you may know by my size, 
 that I have a kind of alacrity in sinking ; if the bot- 
 tom were as deep as hell, I should down. I had 
 been drown'd, but that the shore was shelvy and shal- 
 low 5 a death that I abhor ; for the water swells a 
 man ; and what a thing should I have been, when I 
 had been swell'd ! I should have been a mountain of 
 mummy. r^j-j 
 
 Re-enter Bardolph, with the Wine, 
 
 Now, is the sack brewM ? 
 
 G i j Bard,
 
 72 MERRY WIVES OT WINDSOR. Acl IIL 
 
 Bard. Ay, sir: there's a woman below would speak 
 with you. 
 
 Fal Come, let me pour in some sack to the Thames 
 water; for my belly's as cold, as if I had swallow'd 
 snow-balls for pills to cool the reins. Call her in. 
 
 Bard. Come in, woman. ^84 
 
 Enter Mrs. Quickly. 
 
 (luic. By your leave ; — I cry you mercy : — Give 
 your worship good morrow. 
 
 Fal. Take away these chalices : Go brew me a pot- 
 tle of sack finely. 
 
 Bard. With eggs, sir ? 
 
 Fal. Simple of itself; I'll no puUct-sperm In my 
 brewage. — How now ? 591 
 
 Quic. Marry, sir, I come to your worship from 
 mistress Ford. 
 
 FaL Mistress Ford ! I have had ford enough : I 
 was thrown into the ford ; I have my belly full of 
 ford. 
 
 Quic. Alas the day ! good heart, that w'as not her 
 fault : she does so take on with her men ; they mis- 
 took tlieir ereftion. 
 
 FaL So did I mine, to build upon a foolish wo- 
 man's promise. 601 
 
 Quic, Well, she laments, sir, for it, that it would 
 yarn your heart to see it. Her husband goes this morn- 
 ing a birding ; she desires you once more to come to 
 her between eight and nine : I must carry her word 
 quickly: she'll make you amends, I warrant you. 
 
 FaL
 
 AclIII, MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. '73 
 
 Fal. Well, I will visit her : Tell her so ; and bid 
 
 her think, what a man is : let her consider his frailty, 
 
 and then judge of my merit. 
 
 Q^uic. I will tell her. 610 
 
 FaL Do so. Between nine and ten, say'st thou ? 
 
 Quic. Eight and nine, sir. 
 
 FaL Well, be gone : I will not miss her^ 
 
 Quic. Peace be v.ith yon, sir! [Exif» 
 
 FaL I marvel, I hear not of master Brook ; he sent 
 
 me word to stay within r I like his money well. Oh, 
 
 here he comes, 
 
 Enter FoRD. 
 
 Ford. Bless you, sir! 
 
 FaL Now, master Brook? you come to know what 
 hath pass'd between me and Ford's wife ? 620 
 
 Ford. That, indeed, sir John, is my business. 
 
 FaL Master Brook, I will not lie to you ; I was at 
 her house the hour she appointed me. 
 
 Ford. And you sped, sir ? 
 
 FaL Very ill-favour'dly, master Brook. 
 
 Ford, How, sir ? Did she change her determination ? 
 
 FoL No, master Brook : but the peaking cornuto 
 her husband, master Brook, dwelling in a continual 
 Marum of jealousy, comes me in the instant of our 
 encounter, after we had embrac'd, kiss'd, protested, 
 and, as it were, spoke the prologue of our comedy; 
 and at his heels a rabble of his companions, thither 
 prov^ok'd and instigated by his distemper, and for- 
 sooth, to search his house for his wife'^ love. 634 
 G i i j Fvrd^
 
 74 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. AQ HI. 
 
 Ford. What, while you were there ? 
 
 Fal. While I was there. 
 
 Ford. And did he search for you, and could not 
 iind you ? 
 
 Fal. You shall hear. As good luck would have it, 
 comes in or.e mistress Page ; gives intelligence of 
 Ford's approach ; and, by her invention, and Ford's 
 wife's distra6lion, they convey'd me into a buck-basket. 
 
 Ford. A buck-basket ! 613 
 
 Fal. Yea, a buok-basket : ramm'd me in with foul 
 shirts and smocks, socks, foul stockings, and greasy 
 napkins j that, master Brook, there was the rankest 
 compound of villanous smell, that ever otiended 
 nostril. 
 
 Ford. And how long lay you there ? 649 
 
 Fal. Nay, you shall hear, master Brook, wliat I have 
 suffered to bring this woman to evil for your good. 
 Being thus cramm'd in the basket, a couple of Ford's 
 Jcnaves, his hinds, were call'd forth by their mistress, 
 to carry me in the name of foul clothes to Datchet- 
 lane : they took me on their shoulders ; met the jea- 
 lous knave their master in the door ; v/ho ask'd them 
 once or twice, what they had in th.eir basket : I quak'd 
 for fear, lest the lunatic knave would have search'd 
 it ; but fate, ordaining he slioidd be a cuckold, held 
 his hand. Well ; on went he for a search, and away 
 v/ent I for foul clothes. But mark the sequel, master 
 Brook : I suffer'd the pangs of three several deaths; 
 first, an intolerable friglit, to be deteiled with a jea- 
 lous rotten bell-weather: next, to be compass'd, like 
 
 a good
 
 A811I. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 75 
 
 a good bilbo, in the circumference of a peck, hilt 
 to point, heel to liead : and then, to be stopp'd in, 
 like a strong distillation, with stinking clotlies tliat 
 fretted in their own grease : think of that, — a man 
 of my kidney — think of that ; that am as subjedl to 
 heat, as butter} a man of continual dissolution and 
 tliaw ; it was a miracle, to 'scape suffocation. And in 
 the heigiit of this bath, when I was more than half 
 stew'd in grease, like a Dutcli dish, to be thrown into 
 the Thames, and cool'd, glowing hot, in that surge, 
 like a horse-shoe } think of that — hissing hot — think 
 of that, master Brook. 676 
 
 Ford. In good sadness, sir, I am sorry that for my 
 sake you have suffer'd all this. My suit is then des- 
 perate \ you'll undertake lier no more ? 
 
 Fal. Master Brook, I will be thrown into vEtna, as 
 I have been into Thames, ere I will leave her thus. 
 Her husband is this morning gone a birding : I have 
 receiv'd fi om her another embassy of meeting ; 'twixt 
 eiglit and nine is the hour, master Brook. 684 
 
 Ford. 'Tis past eight already, sir. 
 
 Fal. Is it ? I will then address me to my appoint- 
 ment. Come to me at your conver.ient leisure, and 
 you sliall know how I speed ; and the Qonclusion shall 
 he crown'd with your enjoying her : Adieu. You shall 
 have her, master Brook } master Brook, you shall 
 cuckold Ford. [Exit. 691 
 
 Ford, Hum I ha! is this a vision ? is this a dream ? 
 do I sleep? master Ford, awake; awake, master Ford; 
 there's a liole made in ycur best coat, uiacster Ford. 
 
 This
 
 jS MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. AB iV, 
 
 This 'tis to be married ! this 'tis to have linen, and 
 ■buck-baskets! — Well, I will proclaim myself what I 
 am : I will nov/ take the lecher; he is at my house, 
 he cannot 'scape me ; 'tis impossible he should ; he 
 cannot creep into a half-penny purse, nor into a pep- 
 per-box : but, lest the devil that guides Iiim should 
 aid him, I will search impossible places. Though 
 what I am I cannot avoid, yet to be what I would 
 not, shall not make me tame ; if I have horns to 
 make one mad, let the proverb go with me, I'll be 
 hoz"n-mad. [£.\7/.] 705 
 
 ACT IV. SCENE I. 
 
 Page's House. Enter Mrs, Page, Mrs. Quickly, 
 and William, 
 
 Mrs. Page. 
 
 1 s lie at master Ford's already, think'st thou ? 
 
 ihiic. Sure, he is by this ; or will be presently ; 
 but truly, he is very courageous mad, about his throw- 
 ing into the water. Mistress Ford desires you to come 
 suddenly. 
 
 Mrs. Page. II'l be with her by and by ; I'll but 
 bring my young man here to school ; Look, wliere 
 hi? ma-^rer coni^'^ ; 'ris a playing- duy, I see. 
 
 Enter
 
 Acl IV. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. -J^ 
 
 Enter 5zrHuGH Evans. 
 
 How now, sir Hugh ? no scliool to-day ? 9 
 
 Eva. No } master Slender is let the boys leave to 
 play. 
 
 Quic. Blessing of his heart ! 
 
 Mrs. Page. Sir Hugh, my husband says, my son 
 profits nothing in the world at his book; I pray you, 
 ask him some questions in his accidence. 
 
 Eva. Come hither, William; — hold up your 
 head; come. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Come on, sirrah ; hold up your licad j 
 answer your master, be not afraid. 
 
 Eva. William, I'.ow many numbers is in nouns ? 
 
 Will. Two. 21 
 
 Quic. Truly I thought there had been one number 
 more J because they say, od's nouns. 
 
 Eva. Peace your tadings. What is/airy William ? 
 
 Will. Pulcfier. 
 
 Quic. Poulcats ! there are fiilrer things than poul- 
 cats, sure. 
 
 Eva. You are a very simplicity 'om.an ; I pray you, 
 pe.ice. What is Lapis^ William ? 
 
 Will. A stone. 30 
 
 Eva. And what is a stone, William ? 
 
 Will. A pebble, 
 
 Eva. No, it is Lapis \ I pray you, remember in 
 y€ur prain. 
 
 Will. Lapis. 
 
 Eva,
 
 7t5 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. AS IV. 
 
 Eva. That is a good William : Wliat is he, William, 
 that does lend articles ? 
 
 Will, Articles are borrowM of the pronoun ; and 
 be thus declin'd, Singularitery nominativOy hicy ha-Cy 
 hoc. 40 
 
 Eva. Npyninativoy /u'g, /lag, hog ; — pray you, mark : 
 genitivoy hujus : Well, wXvAiis your accusative case ? 
 
 Will. Accusativcy hinc. 
 
 Eva. I pray you, have your remembrance, child ; 
 Accusativoy kungy hangy hog. 
 
 Qiiic. Hang hog is Latin for bacon, I warrant you. 
 
 Eva. Leave your prabbles, 'oman. What is the 
 focative case, William ? 
 
 IVilL O — vocative, O. 
 
 Eva. Remember, William, focative is, caret. 50 
 
 Ouic- And that's a good root. 
 
 Exia. 'Oman, forbear. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Peace. 
 
 Eva. What is your genitive case plural, William ? 
 
 IVilL Genitive case ? 
 
 Eva. Ay. 
 
 Will. Genitive, honim, harum, horum. 
 
 Ouic. 'Vengeance of Gincy's case ! fie on her !— 
 <never name her, child, if she be a whore. 
 
 Eva. For shame, 'oman. 60 
 
 Qiiic. You do ill to teach the child such words : he 
 teaches him to hick and to hack, which they'll do fast 
 enough of themselves } and to call horum : — ne upon 
 you ! 
 
 Eva. 'Oman art thou lunatics ? hast thou no under- 
 standing
 
 Acl IK MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. ^g- 
 
 Standing for thy cases, and the numbers of the gen- 
 ders ? thou art a foolibh Christian creatures, as I, 
 would desires. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Pr'ytliee, Iiold tliy peace. G^ 
 
 Eva. Shew me now, William, some declensions of 
 your pronoims. 
 
 IVill. Forsooth, I have forgot. 
 
 Eva. It is ki, kce, cod j if you forget your kiesy 
 your kces J and \o\\v codsy you must be preeches. Go 
 your ways and play, go. 
 
 Mrs. Page. He is a better scholar, than I tliought 
 he was. 
 
 Eva. Ke is a good sprag memory. Farewel, mis-, 
 tress Page. -9 
 
 Mrs. Page. Adieu, good sir Hugh. Get you home, 
 boy. — Come, we stay too long. {Exi:unt. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Yo?.d\ House. Enter Falstaff, a?id Mrs. Fokd. 
 
 Fal. Mistress Ford, your sorrow hath eaten up my 
 suPierance : I see, you are obsequious in your love, 
 and I profess requital to a hair's breadth j not only, 
 mistress Ford, in tlie simple office of love, but in all 
 the accoutrement, complement, and ceremony of ir. 
 But are you sure of your husband now ? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. He's a birding, sweet sir John. 
 
 Mrs.
 
 8o MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Acl IV. 
 
 Mrs. Page. [IVit/mi.] What lioa, gossip Ford ! 
 what hoa! cjo 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Step into the chamber, sir John. 
 
 lExit Falstaff. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Page. 
 
 Mrs. Page. How now, sweetheart ? who's at home 
 besides yourself? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Why, none but mine own people. 
 
 Mis. Page. Indeed ? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. No, certainly — Speak louder. [Aside. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Truly, 1 am so glad you liave nobody 
 here. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Why? 99 
 
 Mrs. Page. Why, woman, your husband is in liib 
 old lunes again : he so takes on yonder with my 
 husband ; so rails against all married mankind ; so 
 curses all Eve's daughters, of what complexion so- 
 ever ; and so buffets himself on the foreiicad, crying, 
 Peer-out^ peer-out ! that any madness, I ever yet be- 
 held, seem'd but tameness, civilitN', and patience, 
 to this distemper he is in now : 1 am glad the fat 
 knight is not here. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Why, doe? he talk of him ? 109 
 
 Mrs. Page. Of none but liim ; and swears, lie was 
 carried out, the last time he search'd for him, in a 
 basket : protests to uiy husband, he is now here ; and 
 hath drawn him and the rest of their company from 
 tlieir sport, to make another experiment of his sus- 
 picion ;
 
 A&: IV, MERRY Wn'ES OF WINDSOR. 8l 
 
 picion : but I am glad the knight is not here ; now lie 
 shall see his own foolery. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. How near is he, mistress Page ? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Hard by ; at street end ; he will be here 
 anon. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. I am undone ! — the knight is here. 120 
 
 Mrs. Page. Why, then thou art utterly sham'd, 
 and he's but a dead man. What a woman are you ? — 
 Away with him, away w ith him j better sliame than 
 murder. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Which way should he go ? how should 
 I bestow- him ? Shall I put him into the basket again ? 
 
 Filter Falstaef. 
 
 Fat. No, I'll come no more i' the basket : May I 
 )0t go out, ere he come ? 1 i>8 
 
 Mrs. Page. Alas, three of master Ford's brothers 
 ■ atch the door with pistols, that none should issue 
 out ; otherwise you might slip away ere he came.- 
 But wliat make you here ? 
 
 FaL What shall 1 do ? I'll creep up into tlie 
 liumncy. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. There they always use to discharge 
 rlelr l)irding-pieces ; creep into the kiln-liole. 
 
 Fa!. Where is it ? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. He will seek there on my word. Nei- 
 ther press, coffer, chest, trunk, well, va-jlt, but he 
 hath an abstraft for the remembrance of such places, 
 and goes to them by his note : There is no hiding you 
 iiirhe house. 1 +«- 
 
 K lul.
 
 82 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. A6l IV, 
 
 Fal. I'll go out then. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. If you go out in your own semblance, 
 
 you die, sir John ; unless you go out disguis'd 
 
 How might we disguise him ? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Alas the day, I know not. There is . 
 no woman's gown big enough for him ; otherwise, he 
 might put on a hat, a muffler, and a kerchief, and so 
 escape. 1,50 
 
 Fal. Good hearts, devise something : any extremity, 
 ratl\er than a mischief. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. My maid's aunt, tlie fat woman of 
 Brentford, has a gown above. 
 
 Mrs. Page. On my word, it will serve him ; she's 
 as big as he is : and there's her thrum hat, and her 
 muffler too : Run up, sir John. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Go, go, sAveet sir John : mistress Page, 
 and I, will look some linen for your head. 159 
 
 Mrs. Page. Quick, quick ; we'll come dress you- 
 straight : put on the gown the while. 
 
 [Exit Falstaff. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. I would, my husband would meet him 
 in this shape ; he cannot abide the old woman of 
 Brentford; he swears, she's a witch j forbade her my 
 house, and hath threatened to beat her. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Heaven guide him to thy husband's 
 cudgel ; and the devil guide his cudgel afterwards ! 
 
 Mrs. Ford. But is my husband coming ? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Ay, in good sadness, 13 lie ; and 
 talks of the basket too, howsoever he hath had in- 
 ttlh'gence. .... 171- 
 
 Mrs.
 
 Acl.lF. MERllY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 83 
 
 Mrs. Ford. We'll try that ; for V\\ appoint ir.y men 
 to carry the basket again, to meet him at tJie duor 
 \\\i\\ it, as they did last time. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Nay, but he'll be here presently : let's 
 go dress him hke the witch of Brentford. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. I'll first direcT: my men what they si tall 
 do with the basket. Go up, I'll bring linen for him 
 straight. 
 
 Mys. Page. Hang him, dishonest varlet ! we cannot 
 misuse him enough. 181 
 
 We'll leave a proof, by that which we will do, 
 Wives m.ay be merr\', and yet lionest too : 
 We do not aft, that often jest and laugh ; 
 ' j'is old but true, Still swine eat all the draugfi, 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Go, sirs, take the basket again on your 
 shoulders; your master is liard at door j if he bid 
 you set it down, obey him ; quickly, dispatch. 
 
 [£xf2</2/ iUrj. Page, and Mrs. Yok:). 
 
 Enter Servants toitk the Basket. 
 
 1 Serv. Come, come, take up. 
 
 a Scrv. Pray heaven, i-t be not full of the knight 
 again. iqi 
 
 1 Serv. I hope not ; I had as lief bear so much 
 lead. 
 
 .Fnter Ford, Shallow, Page, Caius, a-vc/ Sir 
 Hugh Evans. 
 
 Ford. Ay, but if it prove true, master Page, have 
 
 you any way th«rto unfool me again i— -Set down the 
 
 II ij basket.
 
 84 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. A& IF, 
 
 basket, villain : — Somebody call my wife : — Youth in 
 a basket ! — Oh, you panderly rascals! there's a knot, 
 a gang, a pack, a conspiracy against me : Now shall 
 the devil be sham'd. What ! wife, I say ! come, 
 come forth ; behold what honest clothes you send 
 forth to bleaching. 201 
 
 Page. Why, this passes ! Master Ford, you are 
 not to go loose any longer j you must be pinion'd. 
 
 Eva. Why, this is lunatics ! this is mad as a mad 
 dog! 
 
 S^ai. Indeed, master Ford, this is not well j indeed. 
 
 Enter Mrs. Ford. 
 
 Ford. So say I too, sir. — Come hither, mistress 
 Ford ; — mistress Ford, the honest woman, the modest 
 %vife, the virtuous creature, that hath the jealous fool 
 to her husband! — I suspeft without cause, mistress, 
 do I ? 211 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Heaven be my witness, you do, if you 
 suspeft me in any dishonesty. 
 
 Ford. Well said, brazen-face ; hold it out. — Come 
 forth, sirrah. [Pulls the Clothes out of the Basktt. 
 
 Page. This passes. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Are you not asham'd ? let the clothes 
 alone. 
 
 Ford. I shall find you anon. 
 
 Eva. 'Tis unreasonable! Will you take up your 
 wife's clothes ? come away. 221 
 
 Ford. Empty the basket, I say. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Why, man, why,— — 
 
 Ford.
 
 ABW. WERRY WIVES OF WIN'DSOft. 85 
 
 Ford. Master Page, as I am a man, there was one 
 conveyed out of my house yesterday in this basket j 
 Why may not he be there again ? In myliouse I ain 
 sure he is : my intelligence is true ; my jealousy is 
 i-easonabie : Pluck me out all the linen. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. If you find a man there, he sliail die a 
 flea's deatli. 230 
 
 Page. Here's no man. 
 . SJial. By my fidelity, this is not well, master Ford ; 
 this wrongs you. 
 
 Eva. Master Ford, you must pray, and not follow 
 the imaginations of your own heart : this is jealousies. 
 
 Ford. Well, he's not here I seek for. 
 
 Page. No, nor no where else but in your brain. 
 
 Ford. Help to search my house this one time : if I 
 find not what I seek, she\v no colour for my extre- 
 mity, let me for ever be your table-sport ; let them 
 say of me, As jealous as Ford, thatsearch'd a hollow 
 wall-nut for his wife's leman. Satisfy me once more, 
 once more search with me. 243 
 
 Mrs. Ford. What boa, mistress Page! come you, 
 and the old woman down ; my husband will come in- 
 to the chamber. 
 
 Ford. Old' woman ! what old woman's that ? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Why It is my maid's aunt of Brent- 
 ford. 249 
 
 Ford. A witcii, a quean, an old cozening quexn ! 
 
 Have I not forbid her my house ? She comes of e.''- 
 
 rands, dees she ? We are simple men ; we do not 
 
 know what's brouglit to pass under tlie profession of 
 
 Hiij fortulit-
 
 86 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. ASl IV, 
 
 fortune-telling. She works by charms, by spells, by 
 the figure, and such daubery, as this is : beyond our 
 
 element : we know nothing. Come down, you 
 
 witch } you hag you, come down, I say. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Nay, good, sweet husband; — good gen- 
 tlemen, let him not strike the old woman. 259 
 
 Enter Falstaff in Womeiis Clothes^ led by Mrs. Page, 
 
 Mrs. PagCf Come, mother Prat, come, give me 
 your hand. 
 
 Ford. I'll prat her : — Out of my doors, you witch ! 
 [Beats Am.] you hag, you baggage, you poulcat, 
 youronyon! out! out! I'll conjure you. Til fortune^ 
 tell you. [Exit Fal^ta??. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Are you not asham'd ? 1 think, you 
 have kill'd the poor woman. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Nay, he will do it : — 'Tis a goodly cre- 
 dit for you. 
 
 Ford. -Hang her, witch ! 270 
 
 Eva. By yea and no, I think, the 'oman is a witch 
 indeed : I like not when a 'omans has a great peard ; 
 I spy a great peard under his muffler. 
 
 Ford. Will you follow, gentlemen ? I beseech you, 
 follow ; see but the issue of my jealousy : if I cry 
 out thus upon no trail, never trust me when I open 
 again. 
 
 Page. Let's obey his humour a little further : 
 Come, gentlemen. [^Excunt. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Trust me, he be.it him most pitifiiliv. 
 
 Mrs.
 
 Acl IV, MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 87 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Nay, by the mass, that he did not ; he 
 beat hira most unpiiifully, methought. 
 
 Mrs. Page. I'll have the cudgel hallo^v•'d, and hung 
 oer the altar ; it hath done meritorious service. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. What think you ? may we, with tlie 
 V. arrant of woman- hood, and the witness of a good 
 conscience, pursue him with any further revenge ? 
 
 Mrs. Pa.gQ. The spirit of wantonness is, sure, scar'd 
 out of him ; if the devil have him not in fee-simple, 
 
 ith fine and recovery, he will never, I think, in the 
 v.ay of waste, attempt us again. 201 
 
 Mrs. Ford, Shall we tell our husbands how we have 
 served Iiim > 
 
 Mrs. Page. Yea, by all means ; if it be but to 
 scrape the figures out of your husband's brains. If 
 they can find in their hearts, the poor unvirtuous fit 
 knight shall be any further affliited, we two will be 
 still the ministers. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. I'll warrant, they'll have him publickly 
 sham'd : and, methinks, there would be no period to 
 the jest, should he not be publickly sham'd. 301 
 
 Mrs. Page. Come, to the forge with it then, shape 
 it : I would not have things cool. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE in. 
 
 The Garter Inn . Enter Host and B A r d o l PH . 
 
 Bard. Sir, the Germans desire to have three of 
 your horses : the duke himself u ill be to-morrow at 
 court, and they are going to meet him. 
 
 Ik St.
 
 .88 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. A61 IV. 
 
 Host. What duke should that be, comes so secretly ? 
 I hear not of him in the court : let me speak with the 
 ^•entlemen ; they speak English ? 
 
 Bard. Sir, I'll call them to you. 310 
 
 Host. They shall have my horses ; but I'll make 
 
 them pay, I'll sauce them : they have had my houses 
 
 a week at command ; I have turn'd away my other 
 
 guests : they must come off j I'll sauce them; come, 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 FoRD*s House. Enter Page, Ford, Mrs. Page, 
 Mrs. Ford, and Sir Hxs gh Evans. 
 
 Eva. *Tis one of the best discretions of a 'omans 
 as ever I did look upon. 
 
 Page. And did he send you both these letters at an 
 instant ? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Within a quarter of an hour. 
 
 Ford. Pardon me, wife : Henceforth do what thou 
 wilt; 520 
 
 I rather will suspe^l the sun with cold. 
 Than thee with wantonness : now dqth thy honour 
 
 stand, 
 In him that was of late an heretick, 
 As firm as faith. 
 
 Page. 'Tis well, 'tis well ; no more> 
 Be not as extreme in submission, 
 As in olfence ; 
 
 3 But
 
 Acl IV. MERRY \VIVE3 OF WINDSOR. ^-^ 
 
 But let our plot go forward : let our wives 
 \'et once again, to make us public sport, 
 Appoint a meeting with this old fat fellow, 330 
 
 Where we may take him, and disgrace jiim for it. 
 Ford, There is no better way than that they 
 
 spoke of. 
 Page. How ! to send him word they'll meet him in 
 the park 
 At midnight ! fie, fie ; he will never come. 
 
 Eva. You say, he hath been thrown into the rivers ; 
 and hath been grievously peaten, as an old 'oman : 
 methmks, there should be terroi's in him, that he 
 should not come j methinks, his liesh is punished, he 
 shall have no desires. 
 
 Page. So think I too. 340 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Devise but how you'll use him wlicn he 
 comes. 
 And let us two devise to bring him hither. 
 
 Mrs. Page. There is an old tale goes, that Heme 
 the h\mter. 
 Sometime a keeper here in Windsor forest, 
 Doth all the winter time, at still midnight. 
 Walk round about an oak, with great ragg'd horns ; 
 And there he blasts the tree, and takes the cattle ; 
 And makes milch-kine yield blood, and shakes a 
 
 chain 
 In a most hideous and dreadful manner : 
 You have heard of such a spirit j and well you 
 know, 350 
 
 The superstitious idle-headed eld 
 
 Receir'd,
 
 .go MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Jd IF, 
 
 Received, and did deliver to onr age, 
 This tale of Heme the hunter for a truth. 
 
 Page. Why, yet there want not many, that do 
 fear 
 In deep of night to walk by this Heme's oak : 
 But what of this ? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Marry, this is our device ; 
 
 That Falstaif at tliat oak shall meet with us. 
 We'll send him word to meet us in the field, 
 Pisguis'd like Heme, with huge horns on his 
 head. 360 
 
 Page. Well, let it not be doubted but he'll come, 
 ■And in this shape ; When you have brought him 
 
 thither, 
 What shall be done with him ? what is your plot ? 
 
 Mrs. Page. That likewise we have thought upon, 
 and thus : 
 Nan Page my daughter, and my little son, 
 'And three or four more of their growth, we'll dress 
 Like urchins, ouphes, and fairies, green and white, 
 With rounds of waxen tapers on their heads. 
 And rattles in their hands ; upon a sudden, 
 As Falstaif, she, and I, are newly met, 370 
 
 Let them from forth a saw-pit rush at once 
 -With some diffused song : upon their sight, 
 We two in great amazedness will fly: 
 Then let them all encircle him about. 
 And, fiiiry-like, to-pinch the unclean knight; 
 And ask him, why, that hour of fairy revel, 
 Li their so sacred paths he dares to tread
 
 Ad IV. MERRY WIVES OF \V1N'D30R. pi- 
 
 In shape prophane ? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. And till he tell the truth, 
 Let the supposed fairies pinch liim sound, 380 
 
 And burn him with their tapers. 
 
 Mrs. Page. The truth being known, 
 V.^e'll all present ourselves ; dis-horn the spirit, 
 And mock him home to Windsor. 
 
 Ford. The children must 
 Be praftis'd well to this, or they'll ne'er do't. 
 
 Eva. I will teach the children their behaviours ; 
 and I will be like a jack-an-apes also, to burn the 
 t- night with my taber. 
 
 Ford. This will be excellent. V\\ go buy them 
 '. izards. 391 
 
 Mrs. Page. My Nan shall be the queen of all the 
 fairies, 
 Finely attired in a robe of white. 
 
 Page. That silk will I go buy ; and, in that time 
 lall master Slender steal my Nan away, [Aside. 
 
 .p.d marry her at Eton. Go, send to Falstaif 
 
 straight. 
 Ford. Nay, I'll to him again in the name of 
 Brook : 
 ic'll tell me all his purpose. Sure, he'll come. 
 Mrs. Page, Fear not you that : Go get us pro 
 perties 
 And tricking for our fairies, 400 
 
 Eva, Let us about it : It is admirable pleasures, 
 •«r.d fery honest knaveries. 
 
 \_Ex. PaCEj F-ORD, ^/Z^E-VANSi 
 
 Mrs.
 
 '^2 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.. Aci IV. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Go, mistress Ford, 
 Send Ouickly to sir John, to know his mind. 
 
 {Exit Mrs. Ford. 
 ril to the doctor ^ lie hath my good will, 
 And none but he, to marry with Nan Paee. 
 That Slender, though well landed, isanideot; 
 And he my husband best of all affe<5ls : 
 The doftor is well money'd, and his friends 
 Potent at court : he, none but he shall have 
 her, 410 
 
 Though twenty thousand worthier come to crave her. 
 
 {ExH. 
 
 SCENE V. 
 
 TJic Garter Inn. Enter Host and Sj mp i.e. 
 
 Host. What would'st thou have, boor ? what, 
 thick-skin ? speak, breathe, discuss ; brief, short, 
 quick, snap. 
 
 Simp. Marry, sir, I come to speak with sir John 
 FalstafF from master Slender. 
 
 Host. There's his diamber, his house, his castle, 
 his standing-bed, and truckle-bed ; 'tis painted about 
 with the story of the prodigal, fresh and new : Go, 
 knock and call ; he'll speak like an Anthropophagmian 
 unto thee : Knock, I say. 421 
 
 Simp. There's an old woman, a fat woman gone up 
 into his chamber j I'll be so bold as stay, sir, 'till she 
 come down: I come to speak with lier, indeed. 
 
 HGit.
 
 AH IV. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 93 
 
 Host. Ha ! a fat woman ! tlie knight may be robb'd ; 
 
 I'll call. Bully knight! Bully sir Jolm ! speak 
 
 from thy lungs military ; Art thou there ? it is thine 
 host, thine Ephesian, calls. 
 
 Fal STAFF above 
 
 FaL How now, mine host ? 
 
 Must. Here's a Bohemian-Tartar tarries tl;e com- 
 ing down of thy fat woman : Let her descend, bully, 
 let her descend j my chambers are honourable : Fie ! 
 privacy ? fie ! 433 
 
 Enter Falstaff. 
 
 FaL There was, mine host, an old fat woman even 
 now with me ; but she's gone. 
 
 Simp. Pray you, sir, was't not the wise woman of 
 Brentford: 
 
 FaL Ay, marry was it, mussel-shell ; What would 
 you with her r 
 
 Simp. My master, sir, master Slender sent to her, 
 seeing her go through the street, to know, sir, whe- 
 ther one Nym, sir, that beguil'd him of a chain, had 
 the chain, or no. 443 
 
 FaL I spake with the old woman about it. 
 
 Simp. And what says she, I pray, sir ? 
 
 Fal. Marry, slie says, that the very same man, that 
 bcguird master Slender of his chain, cozen'd him of 
 if- 
 
 Stm.p. I would I could have spoken with the wo- 
 I man
 
 94^ MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR* AB fV, 
 
 man herself ; I had other things to have spoken with 
 her too, from him. 451 
 
 Fal. What are they ? let us know. 
 
 Host. Ay, come ; quick. 
 
 Simp. I may not conceal them, sir. 
 
 Fal. Conceal them, or thou dy'st. 
 
 Shnp. Why, sir, they were nothing but about mis- 
 tress Anne Page j to know, if it were my master's 
 fortune to have her, or no. 
 
 Fal. 'Tis, 'tis his fortune. 
 
 Simp. What, sir ? 460 
 
 Fal. To have her — or no : Go ; say the v\oman 
 told me so. 
 
 Simp. May I be so bold to say so, sir ? 
 
 Fal. Ay, sir Tike 5 like who more bold. 
 
 Simp. I thank your worship : I shall make my 
 master glad with these tidings. [Exit Simp. 
 
 Host. Thou art clerkly, thou art clerkly, sir John :' 
 Was there a wise woman with thee ? 
 
 Fal. Ay, that there was, mine host ; one, that 
 bath taught me more wit than ever I learn'd before in 
 my life ; and I paid nothing for it neither, but was 
 paid for my learning. 472 
 
 Enter Bardolph. 
 
 Bard. Out, alas, sir ! cozenage ! meer cozenage ! 
 
 Host. Where be my horses ? speak well of them, 
 varletto. 
 
 Bard. Run away with the cozeners : for so soon as 
 I came beyond Eton,, they threw me off, from be- 
 
 hird
 
 Acl IV. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 95 
 
 liind one of them, in a slough of mire ; and set spurs, 
 and away, like three German devils, three Doctor 
 Faustus's. 480 
 
 Host. They are gone but to meet the duke, villain : 
 do not say, they are fled ; Germans are honest men. 
 
 Enter Sir Hugh Evans. 
 
 Eva. Where is mine host ? 
 
 Host. What is the matter, sir ? 
 
 Eva. Have a care of your entertainments : there is 
 a friend of mine come to town, tells me, there is 
 three couzin-germans, that hath cozen'd all the hosts 
 of Readings, of Maidenhead, of Colebrooke, of 
 horses and money. I tell you for good will, look 
 you : you are wise, and full of gibes and vlouting- 
 stogs ; and 'tis not convenient you should be cozen'd : 
 P'are you well. [ExU.] 492 
 
 Enter Caius. 
 
 Caius. Vere is mine Host dt Jarterrc? 
 
 Host. Here, master doclor, in perplexity, and 
 doubtful dilemma. 
 
 Cams. I cannot tell vat is dat : But it is tell-a-me, 
 dat you make a grand preparation for a duke de Ja- 
 r.any : by my trot, dere is no duke, dat the court is 
 know, to come : I tell you for good vill : adieu. 
 
 lExit. 
 
 Host. Hue and cry, villain, go ! assist me, knight ; 
 
 I am undone :— fly, run, hue and cry, villain 1 lam 
 
 iJi^done! lExit.'] 502 
 
 I ij Eal.
 
 €)6 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. ASi IF. 
 
 Fal. I would all the world might be cozen'd j for 
 I have been cozen'd, and beaten too. If it should 
 come to the ear of the court, how I have been trans - 
 form'd, and how my transformation hath been wash'd 
 and cudgel'd, they would melt me out of my fat, 
 drop by drop, and liquor fishermen's boots with me ; 
 I warrant they would whip me with their fine wits, 
 till I were as crest -fain as a dry'd pear. I never 
 prospered since I forswore myself at Primero. Well, 
 if my wind were but long enough to say my prayers, 
 I would repent. 5 1 3 
 
 Enter Mistress Quickly. 
 
 Now, whence come you ? 
 
 Qiiic. From the two parties, forsooth. 
 
 Fal. The devil take one party, and his dam the 
 other, and so they shall be bothbestow'd ! I have suf- 
 fered more for their sakes, more, than the villanous 
 inconstancy of man's disposition is able to bear. 
 
 Quic. And have not they suffer' d ? yes, I warrant, 
 speciously one of them 5 mistress Ford, good heart, 
 is beaten black and blue, that you cannot see a white 
 spot about her. 523 
 
 Fal. What tell'st thou me of black and blue ; I was 
 beaten myself into all the colours of the rainbow j and 
 I was like to be apprehended for the witch of Brent- 
 ford ; but that my admirable dexterity of wit, coun- 
 terfeiting the ac:lion of an old woman, deliver'd me, 
 the knave constable had set me i' the stocks, i' the 
 conunon stocks, for a witch. 530
 
 ict 4. ]^Cere.y Wives oe Wwdsor . j>, 
 
 . WHENDEM^ON zn FAL STAFF, 
 
 Printi'rl foL- John Bt-ll firitilh Librarv Sti-an.d \.m\Acn\.S^^\^t3..-vj^\.
 
 Jcl IF. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 97 
 
 Quic. Sir, let me speak with you in your chamber ; 
 you shall hear how things go ; and, I warrant, to your 
 content. Here is a letter will say somewhat. Good 
 hearts, what ado is lierc to bring you together ! sure, 
 one of you does not serve heaven well, that you are 
 so cross'd. 
 
 Fal. Come up into my chamber. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE VI. 
 
 Enter Fen TON and Host, 
 
 Host. Master Fenton, talk not to me j my mind is 
 heavy, I will give over all. 
 
 f'jit. Yet hear me speak : Assist me in my 
 purpose. 
 And, as I am a gentleman, Fll give thee 540 
 
 A hundred pound in gold, more than your loss. 
 
 Host. I will hear you, master Fenton j and I will, 
 at the least keep your counsel. 
 
 Fcnt. From time to time I have acquainted you 
 With the dear love I bear to fair Anne Page; 
 Who, mutually, hath answered my affeClion 
 (So far forth as herself might be her chuser) 
 Even to my wish : 1 have a letter from her 
 Of such contents as you will wonder at ; 
 'JJie mirth wliereof's so larded with my matter, 5.50 
 That neither, singly, can be manifested. 
 Without the siiew of both : Fat sir John FalstafF 
 
 liij Hath
 
 C)8 MERRY ^VIVES OF WINDSOR. A61 IV. 
 
 Hath a great scene ; the image of tlie jest 
 
 [Shewing a Letter, 
 V\\ shew you here at hirge. Hark, good mine host : 
 To-night at Heme's oak, just 'twixt twelve and one, 
 Must my sweet Nan present the fairy queen ; 
 The purpose why, is here ; in which disguise. 
 While other jests are something rank on foot. 
 Her father hath commanded her to slip 
 Away with Slender, and with lum at Eton 560 
 
 Immediately to marry : she hath consented : now, 
 
 sir. 
 Her mother, even strong against that match. 
 And firm for doctor Caius, hath appointed 
 That he shall likewise shuffle her away, 
 While other sports are tasking of their minds. 
 And at the deanery, where a priest attends. 
 Straight marry ]ier : to this her mother's plot 
 She, seemingly obedient, likewise hath 
 Made promise to the doctor : — Now, thus it rests ; 
 Her father means she shall be all in white ; 57D 
 
 And in that habit, when Slender sees his time 
 To take her by the hand, and bid lier go, 
 She shall go with him : — her mother hath intended, 
 The better to devote her to the doftor 
 (P'or they must all be mask'd and vizarded), 
 That, quaint in green, she shall be loose enrob'd, 
 With ribbands pendant, tiaring 'bout her head ; 
 And when the doctor spies his vantage ripe, 
 To pinch her by the hand, and, on tliat token, 
 The maid hath given consent to i;o witli him. a8o 
 
 Host.
 
 A61 v. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 99 
 
 Host. Wliich means she to deceive ? father or mo- 
 ther ? 
 fcnt. Both, my good host, to go along with me : 
 And here it rests, — that you'll procure the vicar 
 To stay for me at church, 'twixt twelve and one, 
 And, in the lawful name of marrying. 
 To give our hearts united ceremony. 
 Host. Well, husband your device j I'll to the 
 vicar : 
 Bring you the maid, you shall not lack a priest. 
 
 ft fit. So shall I evermore be bound to thee ; 
 Besrdes, I'll make a present recompence. 590 
 
 {Exeunt, 
 
 ACT V. SCENE L 
 
 Enter Falstaff and Mrs. Quickly. 
 
 falstqf. 
 
 X r'ythee, no more pratling ; — go. — I'll hold: 
 This is the third time } I hope, good luck lies in odd 
 nunibers. Away, go ; they say, there is divinity in 
 odd numbers, either in nativity, chance, or death.— 
 Away. 
 
 Qui'c. ril provide you a chain ; and I'll do wliat I 
 can to get you a pair of horns. 
 
 [Exit Mrs, Quickly. 
 Ecd,
 
 too MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. A& F, 
 
 FaL Away, I say ; time wears : hold up your 
 head, and mince. 9 
 
 Enter Ford. 
 
 How now, master Brook ? Master Brook, the matter 
 will be known to-night, or never. Be you in the 
 Park about midnight, at Heme's oak, and you shall 
 see wonders. 
 
 Ford. Went you not to her yesterday, sir, as you 
 told me you had appointed ? 1,5 
 
 Fal. I went to her, master Brook, as you see, like 
 a poor old man : but I came froni her, master Brook, 
 like a poor old woman. That same knave, Ford her 
 husband, hath the finest mad devil of jealousy in him., 
 master Brook, that ever govern'd frenzy. I wiltteM 
 you. — He beat me grievously, in the shape of a wo- 
 man 5 for in the shape of man, master Brook, I fear 
 not Goliah with a weaver's beam ; because 1 know 
 also, life is a shuttle. I am in haste j go along with 
 me; Til tell you all, master Brook. Since I pluck'd 
 geese, play'd truant, and whipp'd top, I knew not 
 what 'twas to be beaten, till lately. Follow me: I'll 
 tell you strange things of this knave Ford ; on whom 
 to-night I will be reveng'd, and I will deliver his 
 wife into your iuind. — Follow : Strange things in 
 
 hand, master Brook 1 follow. 31 
 
 {^Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE
 
 Acl F. MERRY WIVES OF WIN^DSOR. 101 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Windsor Park. Enter FAGEf Shallow, ow^Slen DER. 
 
 Page. Come, come; we'll couch i' the castle-ditch, 
 till we see the light of our fairies. — Remember, son 
 Slender, my daughter. 
 
 S/en. Ay, foi sooth ; I have spoke with her, and 
 we have a nay-word how to know one another. I 
 come to lier in white, and cry, mum ; she cries, budget j 
 and by that we know one another. 
 
 S/iaL That's good too ; But v/hat needs either your 
 mum, or her budget ? the white will decipher her well 
 enough. — It hath struck ten o'clock. 41 
 
 Page. The night is dark ; light and spirits v.'ill be- 
 come it well. Heaven prosper our sport ! No man 
 means evil but the devil, and v, e shall know him by 
 his horns. Let's away ; follow me. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 Enter Mistress Face, Mistress Ford, and Dr. Caius. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Master doftor, my daughter is in green: 
 when you see your time, take her by the hand, away 
 with her to the deanery, and dispatch it quickly : Go 
 before into the park ; we two nmst go together. 49 
 
 Cai2es. I know vat I have to do ; Adieu. \_Exit. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Fare you well, sir. My husband will 
 not rejoice so much at tlie abuse of Falstaff", as he 
 
 will
 
 102 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Aci V. 
 
 \vill chafe at the doftor's marrying my daughter : but 
 'tis no matter ; better a little chiding, than a great 
 deal of heart-break. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Where is Nan now, and her troop of 
 fairies ? and the Welch devil Evans ? 
 
 Mrs. Page, They are all couch'd in a pit hard by 
 Heme's oak, with obscured lights ; which, at the very 
 instant of Falstaff's and our meeting, they will at once 
 display to the night. 6 1 
 
 Mrs. Ford. That cannot chuse but amaze liim. 
 
 Mrs- Page. If he be not amaz'd, he will be mock'd; 
 if lie be amaz'd, he will every way be mock'd. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. We'll betray him finely. 
 
 Mrs, Page. Against such lewdsters, and their 
 lechery, 
 Those that betray them do no treachery. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. The hour draws on ; To the oak, to the 
 02k! [Exeunt.] 69 
 
 SCENE IF. 
 
 Enter Sir Hugh Evans, and Fairies. 
 
 Eva. Trlb, trib, fairies ; come ; and remember 
 your parts : be pold, I pray you ; follow me into the 
 pit; and Vvhen I give the watch-'ords, do as I pid 
 you; Come, come; trib, trib. [Excutit. 
 
 SCENE
 
 Ati K MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR^ I33 
 
 SCENE V, 
 
 Enter Falstaff luitk a BuclCs Head 
 
 en. 
 
 Fal. The Windsor bell hath struck twelve; the 
 minute draws on : Now, the hot-blooded gods assist 
 me ! — P>.emember, Jove, thou wast a bull for thvEu- 
 ropa ; love set on thy horns. — Oh powerful love I 
 tliiit, in some respedls, makes a beast a man j in some 
 other, a man a beast. — You were also, Jupiter, a swan, 
 for tlie love of Leda ; — Oh, omnipotent love ! how 
 near the god drew to the complexion of a goose ? — A 
 
 fault done first in the form of a beast ; O Jove, a 
 
 beastly fault ! — and then anothef fault in the sem- 
 blance of a fowl ; — think on't, Jove ; a foul fault. — 
 When gods have hot backs, what shall poor men do ? 
 For me, I am here a Windsor stag j and the fattest, 
 I think, i' the forest : Send me a cool rut-tims, Jove, 
 or who can blame me to piss my tallow ? Who comes 
 here ? my doe ? 83 
 
 Eater Mistress Ford and Mistress Page. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Sir John ? art thou there, my deer ? my 
 male deer ? 
 
 Fai. My doe with the black scut ? — Let the sky rain, 
 potatoes ; let it thunder to the tune of G7-ecn S/ecves ; 
 hail kissing-comfits, and snow eringoes j let there come 
 a tempest of provocation, I will shelter me here. 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Mistress Page is come with me, sweet- 
 heart, gj 
 
 Fal.
 
 104 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. AEl V. 
 
 Fal. Divide me like a bribe-buck, each a haunch : 
 I will keep my sides to myself, my slioulders for the 
 fellow of this walk, and my horns I bequeath your 
 husbands. Am I a woodman ? ha ! Speak I like 
 Heme the hunter ? — Why, ribw is Cupid a child of 
 conscience : he makes restitution. As I am a true 
 spirit, welcome ! [A'me within. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Alas ! what noise ? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Heaven forgive our sins ! 
 
 Fai. What shall this be ? 
 
 Mrs. Ford. 
 
 HA D V Away, away 
 Mrs. Page. ^ 
 
 [T/ie H^^mrn run cfit. 
 
 Fal. I think the devil will not have me damn'd, lest 
 
 the oil that is in me should set hell on fire ; he never 
 
 would else cross me thus. 1 1 1 
 
 Filter Sir Hugh like a Satyr ; Quickly, and ctUrs, 
 dress* d like Fairies^ with Tapers. 
 
 Quic. Fairies, black, grey, green, and white, 
 You moon-shine revellers, and shades of night, 
 You orphan-heirs of fixed destiny, 
 
 Attend your oflice, and your quality. 
 
 Crier Hobgoblin, make the foiry o-yes. 
 
 Eva. Elves, list your names j silence, you airy 
 toys. 
 Cricketf to Windsor chimneys shalt thou leap : 
 Where fires thou find'st unrak'd, and hearths un- 
 swept, 
 
 2 There
 
 Ail V. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. lOj 
 
 There pinch the maids as bhie as bijberry : 120 
 
 Our radiant queen hates sluts, and sjuttery. 
 
 Fal. They are fairies ; he that speaks to tliem, 
 shall die ; 
 I'll wink and couch ; No man their works must eye. 
 
 [Lies down upon his Face. 
 
 Eva. Where's Bcde ? — Go you, and where you 
 hiid a maid, 
 That, ere she sleep, hath thrice her prayers said, 
 Rein up the organs of her fantasy j 
 Sleep she as sound as careless infancy t 
 But those as sleep, and think not on their sins, 
 Pinch them, arms, legs, backs, shoulders, sides, 
 and shins. 
 
 Qidc. About, about ; 130 
 
 Search Windsor castle, elves, within and out : 
 Strew good luck, ouphes, on every sacred room; 
 That it may stand till the perpetual doom. 
 In state as wholsome, as in state 'tis fit ; 
 Worthy the owner, and the owner it. 
 .The several chairs of order look you scour 
 With Hiice of balm, and every precious flower : 
 Each fair instalment coat, and several crest, 
 With Icyal blazon, evermore be blest I 
 And nightly, meadow-f^iiries, look, you sing, 1^0 
 Like to the Garter's compass, in a ring : 
 The expressure that it bears, green let it be, 
 MorQ fertile -fresh than all the lieid to see ; 
 And, Hony Soit Qui Mat y Penscy v>rite. 
 In emerald tufts, flowers purple, blue, and white ^ 
 
 K Like
 
 106 -MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Acl V, 
 
 Like saphire, pearl, and rich embroidery, ) 
 
 Buckled below fair knight- liood's bending knee \ S. 
 Fairies use flowers for their charatSiery. \ 
 
 Away ; disperse : But, till 'tis one o'clock, 
 Our dance of custom, round about the oak 1 50 
 
 Of Heme the hunter^ let us not forget. 
 
 Eva. Pray you^ lock hand in hand j yourselves iri 
 order set : 
 And twenty glow-worms shall our lanterns be, 
 To guide our measure round about the tree. 
 But, stay ; I smell a man of middle earth. 
 
 Fal. Heavens defend me from that Welch fairy ? 
 Lest he transform me to a piece of cheese i 
 
 Eva. Vile worm, thou wast o'er-louk'd even in thy 
 birth. 
 
 Qidc. With trial-fire touch me his finger-end : 
 If he be chaste, the fiame will back descend, 160 
 And turn him to no pain ; but if lie start, 
 It is the flesh of a corrupted heart. 
 
 Eva. A trial, come. 
 
 \_Thcy burn him with their Tapers and pinch him. 
 Come, will this wood take fire ? 
 
 fal. Oh, oh, oh! 
 
 Quic. Corrupt, corrupt, and tainted in desii'e \ — 
 About him, fairies ; sing a scornful rhime : 
 And, as you trip, still pinch him to your time. 
 
 Eva. It is right j indeed, he is full of lecheries 
 and iniquity, ^-iq 
 
 The
 
 Ad F. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. I07 
 
 T/ie SONG. 
 
 fie on sinful phantasy I 
 
 Fie on Lust and luxury I 
 
 Lust is but a bloody Jire, 
 
 Kindled with unchaste desire^ 
 
 Fed in heart ; whose Jlames aspire. 
 
 As thoughts do blow them^ higher and higher. 
 
 Pinch him, fairies, mutually \ 
 
 Pinch hun for his villaiy \ 
 Pinch him, and burn him, and turn him ahouty 
 ''Till candles, and star-light, and moon-shine be out. 180 
 
 During this Song, they pinch him. Dr. Caius comes 
 one way, and sieals away a Fairy in green ; Slender 
 another way, and he takes away a Fairy in white ; and 
 Fen TON comes, and steals away Mrs. Anne Page. 
 A Noise of Hunting is made within. All the Fairies 
 run away, Falstaff pulls off his Buck's Head) and 
 rises. 
 
 Enter VxGE, Ford, &c. They lay hold on him. 
 
 Page. Nay, do not fiy : I think, we have watch'd 
 you now ; 
 Will none but Heme the hunter, serve your turn ? 
 Mrs. Page. I pray you, come ; liold up the jest no 
 higher : — 
 Now, good sir John, liow hke you Windsor wives ? 
 See you these, husband ? do not these fair yokes 
 Become tlie forest better than the town ? 
 
 Ford. Now, sir, who's a cuckold now ? — Master 
 
 Brook, FalstafF's a knave, a cuckoldly knave ; here 
 
 are liis horns, master Brook: And, master Brook, he 
 
 Kij hath
 
 lo8 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. ASl V. 
 
 hath enjoyed nothing of Ford's but his buck-basket, 
 his cudgel, and twenty pounds of money 5 which must 
 be paid to master Brook j his horses are arrested for 
 it, master Brook. 193 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Sir John, we have had ill luck ; we 
 could never meet. 1 will never take you for my love 
 again, but I will always count you ray deer. 
 
 Fal. I do begin to perceive that I am made an 
 ass. 
 
 Ford. Ay, and an ox too ; both the proofs are 
 extant. 200 
 
 Fal. And tb.ese are not fairies ? I was three or four 
 times in the tliought they were not fairies r and yet 
 the guiltiness of my mind, the sudden surprise of my 
 powers, drove the grossness of the foppei-y into a re- 
 ceiv'd belief, in despight of the teeth of all rhinie and 
 reason, that they were fairies. See now, how wit 
 may be made a Jack-a-Ient, when 'tis upon ill eui- 
 ployment ! 
 
 Eva. Sir John FalstalT, serve Got, and leave your 
 desires, and fairies will not pinse you. 210 
 
 Ford. Well said, fairy Hugh. 
 
 Eva. And leave your jealousies also, I pray you. 
 
 Ford. I will never mistrust my wife again, till thou 
 art able to woo her in good English. 
 
 Fal. Have I laid my brain in the sun, and dried it, 
 that it wants matter to prevent so gross o'er-reaching 
 as this ? Am I ridden with a Welch goat too ? shall I 
 have a coxcomb of frize ? 'tis time I were chok'd 
 with a piece of toasted cheese. 219 
 
 Eva. Seese is not good to give putter ; your pelly 
 is all putter. Fal. , 
 
 m
 
 Jcl V. MERRY WIVES OP WINDSOR. I09 
 
 Fal. Seese and putter! have I liv'd to stand in the 
 taunt of one that makes fritters of English ? this is 
 enough to be the decay of lust and late-walking, 
 through the realm. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Why, sir John, do you think, thougli 
 v,e would have thrust virtue out of our hearts by the 
 head and shoulders, and have given ourselves without 
 scruple to hell, that ever the devil could have made 
 you ofir delight ? 230 
 
 Ford. What, a hodge-pudding ? a bag of fiax ? 
 
 Mrs. Page. A puff'd man ? 
 
 Page. Old, cold, witlier'd, and of intolerable en- 
 trails ? 
 
 ford. And one tliat is as slanderous as Satan ? 
 
 Page. And as poor as Job ? 
 
 Furd. And as wicked as his wife ? 
 
 Eva. And given to fornications, and to taverns, and 
 sacks, and wines, and metheghns, and to drinkings, 
 and swearings, and starings, pribbles and prabbles? 
 
 Fal. Well, I am your tlieme ; you l^ave the start 
 of me ; I am dejedted ; I am not able to answer the 
 Welch flannel ; ignorance itself is a plummet o'er 
 me : use me as you will. 244 
 
 Ford. Marry, sir, we'll bring you to Windsor, to 
 one master Brook, that you cozen'd of money, to 
 whom you should iiave been a pandar : over and 
 above that you have suiFer'd, I think, to repay that 
 money will be a biting affliction, 
 
 Mrs. Ford. Nay, husband, let that go to make 
 amends : 
 Forgive that sum, and so we'll all be friends. 251 
 
 Ford.
 
 no MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Ad F. 
 
 Ford. Well, here's my hand ; all's forgiven at last. 
 
 Page. Yet be cheerful, knight : thou shalt eat a 
 posset to-night at my house ; where I will desire thee 
 to laugli at my wife, that now laughs at thee : Tell 
 her, master Slender hath married her daughter. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Doctors doubt that ; if Anne Page be 
 my daughter, she is, by this, doctor Cuius' wife. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Enter Slekder. 
 
 Sieti. Whoo, ho ! ho ! father Page ! 
 
 Page. Son ! how now ? how now, son ? have you 
 dispatcli'd ? 261 
 
 S/en. Dispatch'd ! — I'll make the best in Gloucester- 
 shire know on't ; would I were hang'd, la, else. 
 
 Page. Of what, son ? 
 
 Skn. I came yonder at Eton to marry mistress 
 Anne Page, and she's a great lubberly boy : If it had 
 not been i' the church, I would have swing'd him, or 
 he should have swing'd me. If I did not think it had 
 been Anne Page, would I might never stir, and 'tis 
 a post-master's boy. 270 
 
 Page. Upon my life then you took the wrong. 
 
 S/en. What need you tell me that ? I think so, when 
 1 took a boy for a girl : If I had been married to him, 
 for all he was in woman's apparel, I would not liave 
 had him. 
 
 Page. Why, this is your own folly ; Did not I 
 tell you, how you should know my daughter by her 
 gamients ? 
 
 S/en. I went to her in white, and cry'd, mumj and 
 
 she
 
 ABP. MERRY WIVES OF \VIND-3OR. Ill 
 
 she cry'd budget^ as Anne and I liad appointed ; and 
 yet it was not Anne, but a post-master's boy. 281 
 
 Eva, Jeshu ! Master Slender, cannot you see but 
 marry boys ? 
 
 Page. O, I am vex'd at heart : What shall I do ? 
 
 A/n. Page. Good George, be not angry : I knew 
 of your purpose ; turn'd my daughter into green j 
 and, indeed, she is now with the do6t:or al tlie deanery, 
 and there married. 
 
 Enter Caius. 
 
 Cains. Vere is mistress Page ? By gar, I am cozen'd ; 
 I ha' married un gar^on, a boy ; un paisan, by gar, a 
 boy 5 it is not Anne Page : by gar, I am cozen'd. 291 
 
 Mrs. Page. Why, did you not take her in green ? 
 
 Caius. Ay, be gar, and 'tis a boy : be gar, I'll raise 
 all Windsor. [Exit Caius. 
 
 Ford. Thisis strange: Who hath got the right Anne ? 
 
 Page. My heart misgives m^e : Here comes master 
 Fenton. 
 
 Enter Fenton, and An n e Page, 
 
 How now, master Fenton ? 
 
 A7ine. Pardon, good father I good my mother, par- 
 don ! 300 
 
 Page. Now, mistress ? how cliance you went not 
 with master Slender ? 
 
 Mrs. Page. Why went you not with m^aster do6for, 
 maid ? 
 
 Pent. You do amaze Iier ; Hear the truth of it. 
 You would have married her most shamefuMy, 
 
 Where
 
 112 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. A? T. 
 
 Where there was no proportion held in love. 
 The truth is, She and I, long since contracted, 
 Are now so sure, that nothing can dissolve us. 
 The oiTence is holy, that she hath committed : 310 
 And this deceit loses the name of craft, 
 Of disobedience, or unduteous title ; 
 Since therein she doth evitate and shun 
 A thousand irreligious cursed hours, 
 Which forced marriage would have brought upon 
 her. 
 
 Ford. Stand not amaz'd : here Is no remedy : 
 
 In love, the heavens themselves do guide the state j 
 Money buys lands, and wives are sold by fate, 
 
 Fal. I am glad, though you have ta'en a special 
 stand to strike at me, that your arrow hath glanc'd. 
 
 Page, Well, what remedy ? Fenton, heaven give 
 thee joy! 321 
 
 What cannot be eschew'd, must be embrac'd. 
 
 Eva. I will dance and eat plums at your wedding. 
 
 Fal. When nigiit-dogs run, all sorts of deer are 
 chac'd. 
 
 Mrs. Page. Well, I will muse no further: — M-.ist^r 
 Fenton, 
 
 Heaven give you many, many merry days! 
 
 Good husband, let us every one go home, 
 
 And laugh this sport o'er by a country fire ; 
 
 Sir John and all, 330 
 
 Ford. Let it be so : Sir John j 
 
 Te master Brook you yet shall hold your word ; 
 Fof he, to-night, shall lye with mistress Ford. 
 
 [Exdunt omnrs. 
 THE END,
 
 ANNOTATIONS 
 
 B Y 
 
 ^AM, JOHNSON ^ GEO, STEEFENS, 
 
 AND 
 
 THE Vx'\RIOUS COMMENTATORS, 
 
 UPON 
 
 MERRT WIVES OF WINDSOR, 
 
 WRITTEN BY 
 
 WILL. SHAKSPERE. 
 
 -SIC irUR AD ASTRA. 
 
 VIRG. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 Printed fovy and under the Direction of, 
 
 John Bell, Briti(?)sili?^rarp» Strand, 
 
 Bookseller to His Royal Highness the Prince ot Wales. 
 
 M DCC LXXXVII.
 
 JNNOTjriONS 
 
 UPON 
 
 MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR, 
 
 MERRY WIVES.^ A FEW of the incidents in this co- 
 medy might have been taken from some old translation 
 of // Pecorone by Giovanni Fiorentino. I have lately 
 met with the same story in a very contemptible perfor- 
 mance, intituled, The fortunate, deceived, and the unfortu- 
 nate Lovers. Of this book, as I am told, there are several 
 impressions; but that in which I read it, was published 
 ^n 1632, quarto. A something similar story occurs in 
 Piaccvoli Notti di Straparola^ Nott. 4 Fav. 4 
 
 This comedy was first entered at Stationers' Hall, 
 Jan. 18, 1601, by John Busby. Steevens. 
 
 This play should be read between A'. Henry H\ and 
 K. Henry V. Johnson. 
 
 A passage in the first sketch of the Me) ry Wives of 
 IVindsoT) shews, I think, that it ought to be read be- 
 tween the First and the Second Part of K. Henry U\ in 
 A ij the
 
 4 ANNOTATIONS UPON A8 1. 
 
 the latter of which young Henry becomes king. In the 
 last aft, Falstaff says : 
 
 " Kerne the hunter, quotli you? am I a gliost? 
 *' 'Sblood the fairies hath made a ghost of me. 
 " What hunting at this time of night ! 
 " I'll lay my life the \Vid,di prince of Wales 
 *' Is stealing his father's deare." 
 And in the play, as it now appears, Mr. Page, dis- 
 countenances the addresses of Fenton to his daughter, 
 because he keeps company with tlie wild prince, and 
 with Poins. 
 
 The Fishwife's Tale of Brentford \n Westvv'ard FOR 
 Smelts, a book which Shakspere appears to have 
 read (having borrowed from it part of the fable of 
 Cymbelitie), probably led him to lay the scene of Fal- 
 staff's love-adventures at Windsor. It begins thus: 
 ** In Windsor not long agoe dwelt a sumpter-man, who 
 had to wife a verie faire but wanton creature, over 
 v/hom, not without cause,' he was something jealous ; 
 . t hid he never any proof of her inconstancy." 
 
 Malone. 
 The adventures of Falstaff' in this play seem to have 
 been taken from the story of tlie Lovers of Pisa, in an 
 old piece, called " Tarleton's News out of Pur gat or ie.'''' 
 
 Mr. Warton observes, in a note to the last Oxford 
 edition, that 'the play was probably not written, as we 
 now have it,"^ before 1607, at the earliest. I agree with 
 my very ingenious friend in this supposition; but yet 
 the argument here produced for it may not be conclu- 
 sive. Slefidcr observes to master Page, that his grey hound 
 
 was
 
 A61 1. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 5 
 
 was Old-run on Cotsole [Cotswold-Hills in Gloucestershire] ; 
 and Mr. Warton thinks, that the games^ established 
 there by Capt. Dover in the beginning of K. James's 
 reign, are alUided to. — But perhaps, though the Cap- 
 tain be celebrated in the Annalia Dubrensia as the foun- 
 der of them, he might be the reviver only, or some 
 way contribute to make them more famous; for in the 
 Second Part of Henry IV. 1600, justice Shallow reckons 
 among the Szoingc- bucklers " Will Squecl, a Cotsole man.'''' 
 
 In the first edition of the imperfed: play, sir Hugh 
 Evans is called, on the title page, the Welch Knight ; 
 and yet there are some persons who still afFeft to be- 
 lieve, that all our author's plays were originally pub- 
 lished by himself Farmer. 
 
 Dr. Farmer's opinion is well supported by " An 
 eclogue on the noble assemblies revived on Cotswold 
 Hills, by Mr. Robert Dover." See Randolph's Poems, 
 printed at Oxford, 4to. 1638, p. 114. The hills of 
 Cotszuold, in Gloucestershire^ are mentioned in K. Rich. 
 //. a6t ii. sc. iii. and by Drayton, in liis Polyolbion 
 song 14. Steevens 
 
 WINDSOR.] The Merry Wives of Windsor.] Queen Eli- 
 zabeth was so well pleased with the admirable charac- 
 ter of FalstafF in the The Two Parts of Henry IV. that, 
 as Mr. Rowe informs us, she commanded Shakspere 
 to continue it for one play more, and to shew him in 
 love. To this command we owe The Merry Wives cf 
 Windsor : which Mr. Gildon says, he was very well 
 assured our author finished in a fortnight. But this 
 must be meant only of the first imperfect sketch of 
 A ij this
 
 6 ANNOTATIONS UPON A& I. 
 
 this comedy ; an old quarto edition which I liave seen, 
 
 printed in 1602, says, in the title page As it hath 
 
 been divers times acted both before her majesty and elsewhere. 
 
 Pope. Theobald. 
 Mr. Gildon has likewise told us, that " our author's 
 house at Stratford bordered on the church-yard, and 
 that he wrote the scene of the Ghost in Hamlet there ; 
 but neither for this, nor the assertion that the play 
 before us was written in a fortnight (which was first 
 mentioned by Mr. Dennis in his preface to the Comical 
 Gallant J ijo'i), does he quote any authority. Stories 
 of this kind, not related till a century after an author's 
 death, stand on a very weak foundation. Malone. 
 
 ACTI. 
 
 Line 1 . Sir Hiighyl This is the first, of sundry instan- 
 ces in our poet, where a parson is called sir. Upon 
 which it may be observed, that anciently it was the 
 common designation both of one in holy orders and a 
 knight. Fuller somewhere in his Church History says, 
 that anciently there were more sirs than k?iights ; and 
 so lately as temp. W. and Mar. in a deposition in the 
 Exchequer in a case of tythes, the witness speaking 
 of the curate, whom he remembered, styles him sir 
 Gila. Vide Gibson's View of the State of the Chur- 
 ches of Door, Kome-Lacy, &c. page 36. 
 
 Sir J. Hawkins,
 
 ABL MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 7 
 
 1. a Star-chamber matter of it ;] Ben Jonson, 
 
 intimates, that the Star-chamber had a right to take 
 cognizance of such matters. See The Magnetic Lad)\ 
 aft iii. sc. iv. 
 
 " There is a court above, of the Star-chamber, 
 ' ' To punish routs and riots." ' Steevens. 
 
 7. custalorum.'] This is, I suppose, intended for a 
 corruption oiCustos Rotulorw??. Tlie mistake was hardly 
 designed by the author, who, though lie gives Shallow 
 tolly enough, makes him rather pedantic than illite- 
 rate. If we read : 
 
 Shal. Ay, cousin Slender, and Gustos Rotulorum. 
 It follows naturally : 
 
 Slen. Ay, andV^3.to\or\im. tco. Johnson. 
 
 *' Ay, cousin Slender, and custalorum. 1. 
 I think witli Dr. Johnson, that this blunder could 
 scarcely be intended. Shallcw, we know, had been 
 bred to the lawv at Clement's- Inn — But I would rather 
 read aistos only: then Slender adds naturally, ** Ay, 
 and ratolcrum too." He had heard the words custos 
 rotulorum, .'dnd supposes them to mean different offices. 
 
 Farmer. 
 12. Ay, that I do-,'— — ] We should read : 
 
 Ay, that zee do. 
 This emendation was suggested to me by Dr. Farmer. 
 
 Steevi:ns. 
 22. The luce, &c.] Shakspere, by hinting that the 
 arms of tlie Shallows and the Lucys v/ere the same, 
 shews he could not forget his old friend sir Thomas 
 Lucy, pointing at him under the cJiaracler of justice 
 Shallov/. But to put the matter out of all doubt, Shak- 
 
 spere
 
 8 ANNOTATIONS UPON Acl I. 
 
 spere has here given us a distinguishing mark, whereby 
 it appears that sir Thomas was the veiy person repre- 
 sented by Shallow. To set blundering parson Evans 
 right, Shallow tells him, the luce is not the louse ^ but 
 the Jres/i^s/i) or pike, the salt fish (indeed) is an old coat. 
 The plain English of which is (if I am not greatly mis- 
 taken), the family of the Charlcotts had for their arms 
 a salt fish originally; but when William, son of Walker 
 de Charlcott, assumed the name of Lucy, in the time 
 of Henry III. he took the arms of the Lucys. This 
 is not at all improbable; for we find, when Maud Lucy 
 bequeathed her estates to the Percys, it was upon con- 
 dition they joined her arms with their own. Says Dug- 
 dale, '* it is likely William de Charlcott took the name 
 of Lucy to oblige his mother." And I say further, it 
 is likely he took the arms of the Lucy's at the same 
 time. Smith. 
 
 May it not be asked Mr. Smith, on the supposition 
 that it was usual to salt the luce or pike (which however, 
 I believe, was never heard of before) in what manner 
 it could be inferred from ihe painted fish in the embla- 
 zoned arms, that it was not fireshy but salted^ Henley. 
 The luce is the firesh fish, the salt fish is an old coat,'] 
 
 I am not satisfied with any thing that has been of- 
 fered on this difficult passage. All that Mr. Smith 
 tells is a mere gratis diElum. I cannot find that salt fish 
 were ever really borne in heraldry. I fancy the latter 
 part of the speecli should be given to sir Hughy who 
 is at cross purposes with the Justice, Shallow had said 
 just before, the coat is an old one; and now, that it is 
 the luce, the fresh fish.— No, replies the parson, it can- 
 not
 
 Ac! I. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 9 
 
 not be old a.nd Jresh too — " the sa/tjis/i is an old coat.'' I 
 give tliis with rather the more confidence, as a similar 
 mistake has happened a little lower in the scene. — 
 <' Slice, I say!" cries out Corporal Nym, " Paiica, pau- 
 ca: Slice, that's my humour." There can be no doubt, 
 but pauca, pauca should be spoken by Evans. 
 
 Again, a little before this, the copies give us : 
 
 Slender. You'll not confess, vou'll not confess. 
 
 Shallow. That he will not — 'tis your fault, 'tis fault 
 — 'tis a good' dog. 
 Surely it should be thus : 
 
 Shalloxv. You'll not confess, you'll not confess. 
 
 Slender. That he will not. 
 
 Shallow. 'Tis your fault, 'tis your fault, &c. 
 
 This fugitive scrap of Latin, pauca, &c. is used in 
 several old pieces, by chara6ters, who have no more 
 of literature about them, than Ajm. So Skinkc, in 
 Lock about vov, 1600 : 
 
 *' Bwt pauca Verba, Skinke.'" 
 Again, in Every Man in his Humour, where it is called 
 benchers phrase. Steevexs. 
 
 Shakspere seems to frolick here in his heraldry, witli 
 a design not to be easily understood. In Leland's 
 Colleftanea, vol. I. p. ii. p. 615. the arms of Geffrey 
 de Lucy are " de goules pcudre a croisil dor a treis luz 
 dor." Can the poet mean to quibble upon the word 
 poudri, thzit'is, powdered, which signifies salted; or strewed 
 and sprinkled with any thing ? In Measure for Measure, 
 
 Lucio says 
 
 *' Ever your fresh whore and your/?(?Wer'</bawd . " 
 
 TOLLET. 
 
 The
 
 lO ANNOTATIONS UPON AH I. 
 
 The /uce is a pike or jak : 
 
 " Fill many a fair partrich hadde he in mewe, 
 ** And many a breme, and many a luce in stewe." 
 In Feme's Blazon of Gentry y 1386, quarto, the arms 
 of the Lucy family are represented as an instance, that 
 ** signs of the coat should something agree with the 
 name. It is the coat of Geffrey Lord Lucy. He did 
 bear Gules, three lucia hariant, Argent." 
 
 Mr. WilHam Oldys, (Norroy King at Arms, and 
 well known from the share he had in compiling the 
 Biographica Britannica) among the coUeftions which 
 
 he left for a Life ofShakspercy observes, that ** there 
 
 was a V ry aged gentleman living in the neighbour- 
 hood of Stratford, (where he died fifty years since) 
 who had not only heard, from several old peo- 
 ple in that town, of Shakspere's transgression, but 
 could remember the first stanza of that bitter ballad, 
 which, repeating to one of his acquaintance, he pre- 
 served it in writing; and here it is, neither better nor 
 worse, but faithfully transcribed from the copy which 
 his relation very courteously communicated to me." 
 " A parliament member, a justice of peace, 
 " At home a poor scare-crow, at London an asse, 
 ** If lowsie is Lucy, as some volke miscalle it, 
 " Then Lucy is lowsie whatever befall it : 
 *' He thinks himself greate, 
 " Yet an asse in his state, 
 " We allowe by his ears but with asses to mate, 
 
 " If Lucy is lowsie, as some volke miscalle it, 
 " Sing lowsie Lucy, whatever befall it." 
 Contemptible as this performance must now appear, 
 
 iit
 
 I, 
 
 Ad L MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR.. 11 
 
 at the time when it was written it might have had 
 'flifticient power to irritate a vain, weak, and vindic- 
 tive migistrate; especially as it was affixed to several 
 of his park-gates, and consequently published among 
 his neighbours." — It may be remarked likewise, that 
 the jingle on which it turns, occurs in the first scene 
 oi the Merry Wiies of Windsor. 
 
 I may add, that the veracity of the late Mr. Oldys 
 has never yet been impeached ; and it is not very pro- 
 bable tliat a ballad should be forged, from which an 
 undiscovered wag could derive no triumph over anti- 
 quarian credulity. Steevens. 
 
 35. Tke council shall hear it \ it is a rict.'\ He alludes 
 to a statute made in the reign of K. Henry IV. (13, 
 chap. 7.) by which it is enacted, ** That the justices, 
 ** three, or two of them, and the sheriff, shall certify 
 " before the king, and his counselle, all the deeds 
 " and circumstances thereof (namely the riot) ; which 
 '* certification should be of the like force as the pre- 
 '< sentment of twelve : upon which certificate the tres 
 " passers and offenders shall be put to answer, and 
 *' they which be found guilty shall be punished, ac- 
 *' cording to the discretion of thekingeand counselle." 
 
 Grey. 
 
 By the council is only meant the court of star-cham- 
 ber, composed chiefly of the king's council sitting in 
 Camera stellata, which took cognizance of atrocious 
 riots. In the old 4t(), " the council shall know it," 
 ioUows immediately after " I'll make a star-chamber 
 matter of it." Blackstone. 
 
 So,
 
 12 ANNOTATIONS UPON Acll. 
 
 So, in sir John Harrington's Epigrams^ 1618 : 
 *' No marvel men of such a sumptuous dyet 
 " Were brought into the Star-chamber for a riot ." 
 
 Malone. 
 
 39. -your vizaments in that.'] Advisement is now 
 
 an obselete word. I meet with it in the ancient mo- 
 rahty of Every Man : 
 
 " That I may amend me with good aduysement,^'' 
 Again : 
 
 " I shall smite without any advysement.'''' 
 Again : 
 
 *' To go witli good adzysements^ndi delyberacyon." 
 It is often used by Spenser in Iiis Faery Oueene. So, 
 b. ii. c. 9 : 
 
 *' Perhaps my succour and advizcment meete." 
 
 Ste.evens. 
 
 45. • which is daughter to Master Thomas Page^ 
 
 The whole set of editions have negligently blundered 
 one after another in Page's Christian name in this 
 place; though Mrs. Page calls him George afterwards 
 in at least six several passages. Theobald. 
 
 48. speaks SMALL like a woman. ] This is from 
 
 the edition of 1623, and is the true reading.' Thus 
 Lear speaking of Cordelia^ 
 
 *' Her voice was ever soft, 
 
 " Gentle and low: — ^an excellent thing in woman." 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 In The Midsummer Night's dream. Quince tells Flute, 
 
 who objects to playing a woman's part, " You shall 
 
 play
 
 Acll. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. I3 
 
 play it in a mask, and you may speak as small as you 
 will." Malone. 
 
 57. Slend. Did her grandsire^ &c. 
 
 And afterwards, 
 
 *^ I know the young gentlewoman^ &c.'\ These two 
 speeches are in the old copy given by mistake to 
 Slender. From the foregoing words it appears that 
 Shallow is the person here addressed by sn- Hugh, 
 and that they both belong to him. On a marriage 
 being proposed for his kinsman, he very natu- 
 rally inquires concerning the lady's fortune. Slender 
 should seem not to knou' what they are talking about; 
 (except that he just hears the name of Anne Page, 
 and breaks out into a foolish elogium on her :) for in a. 
 subsequent part of the scene, Shallow sa}s to him : — 
 *' Coz, there is, as it were, a tender, a kind of tender 
 made afar oif by Sir Hugh here, do you understand 
 me." The tender, therefore, v.-e see had been made 
 to Shallow and not to Slender, the former of which 
 names should, on that account, be prefixed to the two 
 speeches before us. 
 
 In this play, as exhibited in the first folio, m.any of 
 the speeches are given to charafters to whom they do 
 not belong. Printers, to save themselves trouble, 
 keep the names of the speakers in each scene ready 
 composed, and are, in consequence, very liable to mis- 
 takes when two names begin (as in the present in- 
 stance) with the same letter. 
 
 This change was suggested by one" of the modern 
 editors. 
 
 B 82.
 
 14 ANNOTATIONS UPON Acl I. 
 
 83. — — I thank you always ] Here and in the 
 
 next speech of Shallow, the 4to, 1619, reads love^ 
 which perhaps, as Dr» Farmer observes, is right. 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 88. How does your fallow grey hounds sir ? I heard say^ 
 he was out-run on Cotssle.] He means Cotswold in Glou- 
 cc^stershire. In the beginning of the reign of James the 
 First, by permission of the king, one Dover, a publick- 
 spirited attorney cf Barton on the Heath, in Warwick- 
 shire, instituted on the hills of Cotswold an annual 
 celebration of games, consisting of rural sports and 
 exercises. These he constantly conducted in person, 
 well mounted, and accoutred in a suit of his majesty's 
 old clothes ; and they were frequented above forty 
 years by the nobility and gentry for sixty miles round, 
 till the grand rebellion abolished every liberal esta- 
 blishment. I have seen a very scarce book, entitled, 
 " Annalia Dubrensia. Upon the yearly celebration of Mr. 
 Robert Dover's Olympick games upon Cotswold hills j''' &c. 
 London^ 1636, 4to. There are recommendatory verses 
 prefixed, written by Drayton, Jonson, Randolph, and 
 many others, the m.ost eminent wits of the times. The 
 gameS) as appears by a curious frontispiece, were' 
 chiefly, wrestling, leaping, pitching the bar, handling 
 the pike, dancing of women, various kinds of hunt- 
 ing, and particularly coursing the hare with grey- 
 hounds. Hence also VvC see the meaning of another 
 passage, where FalsraiF, or Shallow, calls a stout fel- 
 low a Cotswold-man. But from what is here said, an 
 inference of another kind may be drawn, respecting 
 
 the
 
 A^L MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. l^ 
 
 the age of the play. A meager and imperfect sketch 
 of this comedy was printed in 1602. Afterwards Shak- 
 spere new-wrote it entirely. This allusion tlierefore 
 to Cotstucld games, not founded till the reign of James 
 the First, ascertains a period of time beyond which 
 our author must have made the additions to this ori- 
 ginal rough draught, or, in other words, composed the 
 present comedy. James the First came to the crown 
 in tlie year 1603. And we will suppose that two or 
 three more years at least must have passed before these 
 games could have been effeclually established. I wciild 
 therefore, at the earliest, date this play about the 
 year 1607. It is not generally known, at least it has 
 not been observed by the modern editors, that the first 
 edition of the Merry Wives in its present state, is in 
 the valuable folio, printed 1623. From whence the 
 quarto of the same play, dated 1630, was evidently 
 copied. The two earlier quartos, 1602 and 1619, only 
 exhibit this comedy as it was originally wrilten, and 
 are so far curious, as they contain Shakspere's first 
 conceptions in forming a drama, whicii is the most 
 complete specimen of his comick powers. Warton. 
 
 The Cotswold- hills in Glciicesters/iire are a large tract 
 of downs, famous for tlieir fine turf, and therefore 
 excellent for coursing. I believe there is no village 
 of that name. Blackstone. 
 
 111. and broke open my lodge r\ This probably 
 
 alludes to some real incident, at that time well known. 
 
 Johnson. 
 
 So probably FalstafF's answer. Farmer, 
 
 Bij 117.
 
 l6 ANNOTATIONS UPON A£l I. 
 
 117. ""Twerc better for you ^ if'tzvere known in council', 
 you'll be laughed at.'] This is quite in FalstafF's insolent 
 sneering manner. " It would be much better, indeed, 
 to have it known in the council, where you would 
 only be laughed at. Remarks. 
 
 120. Good worts! good cabbage: ] Worts was 
 
 the ancient name of all the cabbage kind. So in Beau- 
 mont and Fletcher's Valcntinian: 
 
 " Planting of worts and onions, any thing." 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 124. coney -catching rascals, ] A coney- catcher 
 
 was, in the time of Elizabeth, a common name for a 
 cheat or sharper. Green, one of the first among us 
 who made a trade of writing pamphlets, published A 
 Detection of the Frauds arid Tricks of Coney-catchers and 
 Couzeners. Johnson. 
 
 So in Decker's Satiroinastix : 
 
 " Thou shalt not coney-catch me for five pounds." 
 
 Steevens. 
 Yoiu- coney -catching rascals, Bardolpli, Nym, and 
 Pistol.] In the early quarto, Slender, speaking of the 
 same transaftion, adds, 
 
 *' They carried me to the tavern, and made me 
 drunk, and afterwards pick'd my pocket." 
 These words surely deserve a place in the text, being 
 necessary to introduce what Falstafli' says afterwards : 
 
 *' Pistol, did you pick Master Slender's purse r" 
 a circumstance, of which, as the play is exhibited in 
 the folio, he could have no knowledge. Ma lone. 
 126. Tcu Banbury cheese!'] This is said in allusion 
 
 to
 
 A611. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. I7 
 
 to the thin carcase of Slender. The same thought oc- 
 curs in Jack Drum's Entertainment ^ 1601 : 
 
 " Put off your clothes, and you are like a Banbury- 
 
 cheese nothing but paring." 
 
 $0 Heywood, in his collection of epigrams : 
 " I never saw Banbury -cheese thick enough,'''' 
 
 Steevens. 
 128. How nowy MephostophilusP] This is the name 
 of a spirit or familiar, in the old story book of Sir 
 John Faustus, or Jchn Faust: to whom cur author after- 
 wards' alludes. That it was a cant phrase of abuse, 
 appears from the old comedy cited above, called A 
 pleasant Comedy of the Gentle Crafty Signat. H. 3. 
 
 ** Awayyou/i/z'?/,^/(7;2 whitepot, henceyou hopper-arse, 
 you barley-pudding full of maggots, you broiled carbo- 
 nado, avaunt, avaunt hUphostophilus.'" 
 In the same vein, Bardolph here also calls Slender^ 
 " You Banbury cheese." Warton, 
 
 130. that^s my humour,'] So in tlie ancient MS. 
 
 play, entitled, The Secojid Maiden'' s Tragedy : 
 
 " 1 love not to disquiet ghosts, sir, 
 
 *' Of any people living j thaCs my humour^ sir." 
 
 Stetvens. 
 
 146. what phrase is thisy'] Sir Hugh is jiistihed 
 
 in his censure of this passage by Pecham, who in hi:i 
 Garden of Elcquence^ ^577i places this very mode of 
 expression under tlie article Pleonasmus. Hlnderson. 
 
 151. — — milVd- sixpences^ ] It appears from h 
 
 passage in sir W. Davenant's News from Plimouth, that 
 - B iij theis
 
 l8 ANNOTATIONS UPON A61 !, 
 
 these milt' d- sixpences were used by way of counters to 
 cast up money : 
 
 " A few miir d sixpencies with which 
 
 ** My purser casts accompts." Steevens. 
 
 152. Edward Shovel- boards ^ ] One of tliese 
 
 pieces of metal is mentioned in Middleton's comedy of 
 The Roaring Girlj 1611 : 
 
 "Away slid I my man, like a shovel-board shillingy''Scc. 
 
 Ste£vens. 
 " Edward Shovel- boar dsy"" were the broad shillings 
 of Edw. V[. 
 
 Taylor the water-poet, in his Travel of Twelve-pence^ 
 makes him complain : 
 
 " tlie unthrift every day 
 
 ** With my face downwards do at skoave-board 
 
 play; 
 " That had I had a beard, you may suppose, 
 '* They had worne it off, as they have done my 
 nose." 
 And in a note he tells us : 
 
 " Edw. shillings for the most part are used at shoave- 
 board:" Farmer. 
 
 Tlie follov/ing extraft, for the notice of which I am 
 indebted to Dr. Farmer, will shew further the species 
 of coin mentioned in the text : "I must here take 
 notice before I entirely quit the subjeft of these last- 
 mentioned shillings, that I have also seen some other 
 pieces of good silver, greatly resembling the same, 
 and of the same date 1547, that have been so much 
 thicker as to weigh about half an ounce^ together with 
 
 some
 
 Acll. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. ig 
 
 some others that have weighed an ounce." Folke's 
 Table cf English silver coins, P- 32. The former of these 
 were probably what cost Master Slender two shillings 
 and two-pence a piece. Reed. 
 
 158. latten bilboe :] Pistol, seeing Slender such 
 
 a slim, puny wight, would intimate, that he is as thin 
 as a plate of that compound metal, which is called 
 latten: and which was, as we are told, the old orichale. 
 Monsieur Dacier, upon tliis verse in Horace's epistle 
 de Arte Poeticay 
 
 *' Tibia non lit nunc orichalcoy &c. 
 says, Cest une espece de cuivre de montagne, comme somme 
 son mesme le temoigne ; c\st ce que nous appellons aujourd* 
 buy du leton. "It is a sort of mountain-copper, as 
 its very name imports, and which we at this time of 
 day call /<2«e??." Theobald. 
 
 After all this display of learning in Mr. Theobald's 
 note, I believe our poet had a much more obvious 
 meaning. Latten may signify no more than as thin as 
 a lath. The words in som.e counties is still pronounced 
 ,5 if there was h in it : and Ray in his Diftionary of 
 North Country Words, affirms it to be spelt lat in the 
 north of England. 
 
 Falstaff threatens, in another play, to drive prince 
 Henry out of his kingdom with a daggar of lath. A 
 ■atten bilboe means therefore, I believe, no more than 
 c blade as thin as a lath — a vice^s dagger. 
 
 Theobald, however, is right in his assertion that 
 latten was a metal. So Turbervile, in his Book of 
 Falconry, 1575 : "—you must set her latten bason, or 
 
 a vessel
 
 go ANNOTATIONS UPON A8l^ I. 
 
 a vessel of stone or earth." Again, in Old Fortunatusj 
 1600: " Whether it were lead or iattin that hasp'd 
 down those winking casements, I know not." Again, 
 in the old metrical Romance of Syr Bevis of Hampton, 
 b. I. no date : 
 
 *' Windowes of latin were set with glasse." 
 Latten is still a common word for tin in the North. 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 I believe Tlieobald has given the true sense of latten^ 
 though he is wrong in supposing, that the allusion is 
 to Slender's thinness. It is rather to his softness or 
 weakness, Tyrwhitt. 
 
 Lattin properly so called, is tinned irony which not 
 only serves for the ordinary utensils of a kitcheri; but 
 is also used for play-house daggers, &c. Henley. 
 
 159. Word of denial in thy labra's here ;] I suppose 
 it should rather be read : 
 
 Word of denial in my labra's hear ; 
 that is, hear the word of denial in my lips. Thou Ifst. 
 
 Johnson. 
 
 We often talk of giving tlie lie in a man's tecthy or 
 in his throat. Pistol chooses to throw the world of 
 denial in the lips of his adversary, and is supposed to 
 point to them as he speaks. Steevens. 
 
 I incline strongly to Dr. Johnson's emendation. 
 There are few v.'ords in the old copies more frequently 
 misrepresented than the word hear. M-alone* 
 
 Labra's ought to be printed labras. * * * 
 
 163. marry trap ^- ] W^hen a man was 
 
 caught
 
 A61L MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 91 
 
 caught in liis own stratagem, I suppose the exclama- 
 tion of insult was marry, trap! Johnson. 
 
 164. nuthook's humour ] Read, pass the 
 
 niithook's huviour. Nut hook was a term of reproach in 
 the vulgar way, and in cant strain. In The Second Part 
 of Henry IV. Dol Tearsheet says to the beadle, Kuthook, 
 Nutkook, you lie. Probably it was a name given to a 
 baliff or catchpole, very odious to the common people. 
 
 Hanmer. 
 
 Nuthock is the reading of the folio, and the third 
 quarto. The second quarto reads, base humour. 
 
 If you run the Nuthook's humour on me, is in plain 
 English, if you say I am a Thief Enough is said on the 
 subje<5t of hooking moveables cut at windows, in a note oh 
 K. Henry IV. Steevens. 
 
 168. Scarlet and John ?'] The names of two of 
 
 Robin Hood's companions; but the humour consists 
 in the allusion to Bardolph's red face; concerning 
 which, see The Second Part of Henry IV, 
 
 Warburton. 
 
 173. And being fap, ] I know not the exaft 
 
 meaning of this cant word, neither have I met v\ ith it 
 in any of our old dramatick pieces, which have often 
 proved the best comments on Shakspere's vulgarisms. 
 
 Dr. Farmer, indeed observes that to fb \s, to beat; 
 so th?i\. fap may mean being beaten, and cashired, turned 
 out of company. Steevens. 
 
 The word fap, is probably made from vappa, a drun- 
 ken fellow, or a good for nothing fellow, whose 
 virtues all are exhaled. Slender in his answer seems to 
 
 under-
 
 22 ANNOTATIONS UPON A61 L 
 
 understand that Bardolph had made use of a Latin 
 word. 
 
 Slen. Ay, you spake in Latin then too ;" 
 as Pistol had just before. S. W. 
 
 194. my hook oi so7igs2^\\diSomiets\\tYQ.\'] Slen- 
 der very probably means the poems of Lord Surrey 
 and others, which were extremely popular in the age 
 of Queen Elizabeth. They were printed in 1567, with 
 this title : So7igs and Sonnets^ written by the right ho- 
 nourable Lord Henry Howard, late Earl of Surrey, and 
 others. 
 
 Slender laments that he has not this fashionable 
 book about him, supposing that it would have assisted 
 him in his address to Anne Page. Ma lone. 
 
 196. the book of riddles !'] This appears to have 
 
 been a popular book, and is enumerated with others 
 in The English Courtier ^ and Country Gentleman, bl. let 
 4to. 1586, Sign. H 4. See quotation in note to Much 
 ado about Nothing. Reed. 
 
 224. the lips is a parcel of the mouth ; ] Thus 
 
 the old copies. The modern editors read : 
 " parcel of the mind.''' 
 
 To be a parcel of any thing is an expresson that 
 often occurs in the old plays. So in Decker's SatirO' 
 mastix : 
 
 *' And make damnation parcel of your oath." 
 Again, in Tamburlaine, ^59^' 
 
 *' To make it parcel of my empery." 
 This passage, however, might have been designed as 
 a ridicule on another, in John Lylly's Midas, 1592 : 
 
 '* Pef.
 
 Ac}. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR, S3 
 
 " Pet. What lips hath she ? 
 
 *' Li. Tush ! Lips are no part of the heady only made 
 for a double leaf door for the mouth. Stee vens. 
 
 277. a master of fence y ] Master of defence j 
 
 on this occasion, does not simply mean a professor of 
 the art of fencing, but a person who had taken his 
 master's degree in it, 1 learn from one of the Sloanian 
 MSS (now in the British Museum, No. 2530, xxvi. d.) 
 which seems to be the fragment of a rigister formerly 
 belonging to some of our schools where the '* No- 
 ble Science of Defence" was taught, from the year 
 1568 to 1583, that in this art there are three degrees, 
 viz. a ifiaster'Sf a provest's, and a scholar's. For each 
 of these a prize is played, as exercises are kept in 
 universities for similar purposes. The weapons they 
 used were the axe, the pike, rapier, and target, rapier 
 and cloke, two swords, the two-hand sword, the bas- 
 tard sword, the dagger and staff, the sword and 
 buckler, the rapier and dagger, &c. The places where 
 they exercised were commonly theatres, halls, or 
 other enclosures sufficient to contain a number of spec- 
 tators, as Ealy-Place, in Holborn ; the Bell Savage, 
 Ludgate-Hill J the Curtain in Hollywell; the Gray 
 Friars, within Newgate ; Hampton Court ; the Bull in 
 Bishopsgate-Street ; the Clink, Duke's-Place, Salis- 
 bury-Court; Bridewell; the Artillery-Garden, &c. 
 &c. &c. Among those who distinguished themselves 
 in this science, I find Tarlton the Comedian, who 
 " was allowed a master," the 23d of October, 1587 [I 
 suppose, either as grand compounder, or mandamus], 
 
 ke
 
 24 ANNOTATIONS UPON ABL 
 
 he being " ordinary grome of her majesties chamber," 
 and Robert Greene, who *' plaide his master's prize 
 at Leadenhall with three weapons," &c. The book 
 from which these extra6ts are made is a singular cu- 
 riosity, as it contains the oaths, customs, regulations, 
 prizes, summonses, &c. of this once fashionable so- 
 ciety. K. Henry VIII. K. Edward VI. Philip aud Mary^ 
 Q. Elizabeth^ were frequently speftators of their skill 
 and activity. Steevens. 
 
 277. three veneysjor a dishy &c.] i. e. three 
 
 venues, French. Three different set-to's, bouts, a tech- 
 nical term. So in Beaumont and Fletcher's Philaster : 
 — " thou wouldst be loth to play half dozen venies at 
 Wasters with a good fellow for a broken head." 
 Again, in The Two Maids o/More-dacke, 1609: " This 
 was a pass, 'twas fencer's play, and for after vejiy, 
 let me use my skill." So in The famous Hist. &c. 
 
 ofCapt. The. Stukely, 1605: " for forfeits and ven- 
 
 neys, given upon a wager at the ninth button of your 
 doublet." 
 
 Again, in the MSS mentioned in the preceding 
 note, " and at any prize whether it be maister's prize, 
 &c. whosoever doth strike his blowe and close with 
 all, the prizer cannot strike his blowe after agaync 
 shall Wynne no game for any veneye so given although 
 it should break the prizer's head." Steevens. 
 
 287. Thafs vieat and drink to me now: ] Deckar 
 
 has tJiis proverbal phrase in Satirornastix : " Yes faith, 
 ' ti$ meat and drink to me.'' Wh alley. 
 
 288.
 
 Acll. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. S5 
 
 288, Sackerson ] Sackerson is likewise tlie 
 
 name of a bear in the old comedy of Sir Giles Gcosecap. 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 Sacarson was t'ne nam.e of a bear that was exhibited 
 
 in our author's time at Paris Garden. See an old 
 
 colleftion of Epigrams [by Sir John Davis] printed at 
 
 Middlebourgh (without date, but in or before 1598): 
 
 *' Publius, a student of the common law, 
 
 *' To Paris gai'de^i doth himself withdraw ; — 
 
 " Leaving old Ployden, Dyer, and Broke 
 
 alone, 
 " To see old Harry Hunkes and Sacarson.'" 
 
 Ma LONE. 
 
 290. t/iat it pass'd: ] It passed, or this passes, 
 
 was a way of speaking customar}' heretofore, to sig- 
 nify the excess, or extraordinary degree of any thing. 
 The sentence completed would be. This passes all ex- 
 pressicn, or perhaps, This passes all things. We stfll 
 use passing well, passing strange. W a R b u R t O N 
 
 296. By cock and pye, ] See a note on aft v. §c. 
 
 1. He-nry IF. Steevens. 
 
 321. ■ Bully-rook.'] This seems to have been 
 
 the reading of somxC editions: in others it is a bully- 
 rock. Mr. Steevens's explanation of it as alluding to 
 chess-men is right. But Shakspere might possibly have 
 given it huWy-rcck, as rock is ilie true name of these 
 men, which is softened pr corrupted into rook. There 
 is seemingly miore humour in buWy-rock. 
 
 V\'h alley. 
 
 C 2£8.
 
 26 ANNOTATIONS UPON Acl I. 
 
 328. Keisar, ] The preface to Stowe's 
 
 Chronicle observes, that the Germans use the K for 
 C, pronouncing Keysar for CcesaVj their general word 
 for an emperor. Tollet. 
 
 335. a zoither'd servingman, a fresh tapster:'] 
 
 This not improbably a parody on the old proverb — 
 " A broken apothecary, a new do6^or." See Ray's 
 Proverbs, 3d edit. p. 2. Steevens. 
 
 338. base Gongarian ZL'ight! &c.] This is a pa- 
 rody on a line taken from on of the old bombast plays^ 
 beginning, 
 
 *' O base Gongarian^ wilt thou the distaff wield ?" 
 I had marked the passage down, but forgot to note the 
 play. 
 
 The folio reads Hungarian. 
 
 Hungarian is likewise a cant term. So in the Merry 
 Devil of Edmonton, 1626, the merry Host says, 
 
 " I have knights and colonels in my house, and 
 must tend the Hungarians.''' Again '. 
 " Come ye Hungarian pilchers." 
 Again, m Westward Hoe, 1607: 
 
 " Play you louzy Hungarians.'''' 
 
 Again, in News from Hell, wrought by the Devil's Cat- 
 
 rier, by Thomas Decker, 1606: ** the leane- 
 
 jaw'd Hungarian would not lay out a penny^pot of sack 
 for himself." Steevens. 
 
 The Hungarians, wlien infidels, over-ran Germany 
 and France, and would have invaded England, if they 
 could have come to it. See Stowe, in the year 930, 
 
 and
 
 Acl I. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 27 
 
 and Holinshed's invasion of Ireland, p. 56. Hence 
 their name might become a proverb of baseness, 
 Stowe's Chronicle," in the year 1492, and Leland's 
 Colle6tanea, vol. i. p. 610, spell it Haigarian (which 
 might be misprinted Gongarian) ; and this is right ac- 
 cording to their own etymology. Hongyars i. c. domus 
 suae strenui defensores . T o l l e t . 
 
 The word is Gongarian in the first edition, and 
 should be continued, the better to fix the allusion. 
 
 Farmer. 
 
 342. Inmour of it.'] This speech is partly ta- 
 ken from the corrected copy, and partly from the 
 flight sketch in 1602. I mention it, that those who 
 do not rind it in either of the common old editions, 
 may not suspeft it to be spurious. Ste evens. 
 
 346. at a minute'5 rest.] Our author probably 
 
 wrote : 
 
 atammxxWsrcst. Langton. 
 
 This conje(5lure seems confirmed by a passage in 
 B-omeo and Juliet : 
 
 *' rests his minim," &c. 
 
 It may however mean, that, like a skilful harquebu- 
 zier, he takes a good aim, though he lias rested his 
 piece for a minute only. So in Daniel's Civil WarSy 
 /&c. b. vi. 
 
 " To set up^s rest to venture now for all." 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 At a minute'5 rest.] A viivivi was anciently, as 
 
 the term imports, the shortest note in musick. Its 
 
 C ij measure
 
 g8 annotations upon ABl. 
 
 iTieasurc was afterv»ards, as it is now, as long as 
 V liile two may be moderately counted. In Romeo and 
 jfulietj a61: ii. Mercutio says of Tibalt, that in fight- 
 in"g he rests his minim, one, two, and the tliird in 
 your bosom. A minute contains sixty seconds, and 
 is a long time for an aflion supposed to be instanta- 
 neous. Nym means to say, that the perfe6tion of steal- 
 ing is to do it in the shortest time possible. 
 
 Sir J. Haavkins. 
 
 Nym, I think, means to say, "Tis true; Bardolph did 
 not keep time, did not steal at the critical and exaB season 
 TV hen he wcnld probably be least observed. The true method 
 isy to steal just at the instant when watchfulness is rjf its 
 guard., and reposes but for a moment. 
 
 The reading proposed by Mr. Langton certainly 
 corresponds more exaclly with the preceding speech ; 
 but Shakspere scarcely ever pursues his metaphors far. 
 
 Ma LONE. 
 
 348. Convey, the wise it call: ] 
 
 So in the old morality of Hycke Scorner, bl. 1. no 
 date: 
 
 ** Syr, the lioresones could not ccnvaye clene ; 
 
 *' For an they could have carried by craft as I 
 
 can," &c. Steevens. 
 
 354. Young ravens must havefocd.'] An adage. See 
 
 Ray's Proverbs. Steevens. 
 
 361. about no waste;' ] 
 
 I find the same play on words in Heywood's Epigrams, 
 1^62: 
 
 *' Where
 
 AB I. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 29 
 
 « Where am I least, husband ? quoth he, in the 
 
 waist ; 
 " Which Cometh of this, thou art vengeance strait 
 
 lac'd. 
 '< Where am I biggest, wife ? in the waste, quoth 
 
 she, 
 *' For all is waste in you, as far as I see." 
 And again, in The IVedding, a comedy by Shirley, 1G29 : 
 " He's a great man indeed; 
 
 <* Something given to the wast, for he lives within 
 reasonaA/e compass.'* Steevens. 
 
 364. i//^ carves ] It should be remembered, 
 
 tliat anciently the young of both sexes were instrii6led 
 in carving J as a necessary accomplishment. In 1508, 
 Wynkyn de Worde published *' A Boke of Kcrvimr.'" 
 So in Lovers Labour Lost, Biron says of Boyet, the 
 
 French courtier : " He c?.n carzx too, and lisp." 
 
 Steevens. 
 370. The anchor is deep ; Will that humour pass .?] I 
 see not what relation the anchor has to translation. Per- 
 haps we may read, the author is deep ; or perhaps the 
 line is out of its place, and should be inserted lower 
 ^fter Falstaff' has said, 
 
 *' Sail like my pinnace to these golden shores." 
 It may be observed, that in the tracts of that thii.e 
 anchor and author could hardly be distinguished. 
 
 Johnson. 
 The anchor is deep :] Dr. Johnson very acutely pro- 
 poses *' the author is deep." He reads with the rirst 
 copy, ^< he hath study'd her zd't-//,"— And from this 
 C iij ecjuivo=
 
 30 ANNOTATIONS UPON JclI. 
 
 equivocal word, Nym catches the idea of (deepness. But 
 it is almost impossible to ascertain the didtion of this 
 whimsical character : and I meet with a phrase in Fen- 
 ner's Comptor''s Commonwealth., 1617, which perhaps may 
 support the old reading, *' Master Decker's Bellman of 
 London^ hath set forth the vices of the time so lively, 
 thatitisimpossiblethe<2;ic/z(?A-of any other man's braine 
 can sound the sea of a more deepe and dreadful mis- 
 cheefe." Farmer. 
 
 studied her wiUj and translated her will is 
 
 the reading of the first folio, 1623. The contested 
 part of the passage may mean. His hopes are well founded. 
 So in the Knight of the Burning Pestle, by Beaumont and 
 Fletcher : 
 
 " Now my latest hope 
 *' Forsake me not, but fling tliy anchor out, 
 " And let it hold." 
 In the year 1558 a ballad, intitutled *' Hold the 
 ancer fast." is entered on the books of the Stationers 
 Company. 
 
 Translation is not used in its common acceptation, 
 but means to explain, as one language is explained by 
 another, ^o'm Hamlet : 
 
 *' these profound heaves 
 
 *' You must translate, 'tis fit we understand them." 
 Again, in Troibis and Cressida : 
 
 " Did in great llion thus translate him to me." 
 
 Steevens. 
 374. As many devils entertain, <Src.] The old quarto 
 reads ; 
 
 «< As
 
 Acil. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. I3 
 
 ** As many devils attend herT' Sec. Steevens. 
 
 I would read with the quarto — As many devils attend 
 
 her! i. e. let as many devils attend her. Musgrave. 
 
 378. and here another to Pagers wife; who evefi 
 
 now gave me good eyes too, examined my, parts with the most 
 judicious eyelids : sometimes the beam of her view gilded 
 my foot, sometimes my portly belly .'l So, in our author's 
 20th sonnet : 
 
 " An eye more bright than theirs, less false in 
 
 rolling, 
 " Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth." 
 
 Malone. 
 
 381. • eyelids: ] This word is differently 
 
 spelt in all the copies. I suppose we should write 
 oeillades, French. Steevens. 
 
 383. Then did the sun on dunghill shine."] So in Lilly's 
 Euphues, 1581 : 
 
 " The sun shineth upon a dimghill.' T. H. W. 
 
 384. that humour. "\ What distinguishes the 
 
 language of Xym from that of the other attendants on 
 Falstaff, is the constant repetition of this phrase. In the 
 time of Shakspere such an affetlation seems to have 
 been sufficient to mark a character. In Sir Giles Gccse^ 
 cap, a play of which I have no earlier edition than that 
 of 1606, the same peculiarity is mentioned in the hero 
 of the piece : 
 
 " his only reason for every thing is, that zee are 
 
 all mortal; then hath he another pretty phrase too, 
 and that is, he will tickle the vanity of every thing." 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 5 385.
 
 52 ANNOTATIONS UPON Acl I. 
 
 385. Of she did so coursc-d'er my exteriors — —^ So 
 u\ Cupid's Whirligig J 1607 : 
 
 <* with a gredie eye feedes on my extcryors." 
 
 Henderson. 
 
 386. intention^ " —- ] i. e. eagerness of desire. 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 389. she is a region in Guiana, all gold and 
 
 bounty,'] If the tradition be true (as I doubt not but it 
 is) of this play being wrote at queen Elizabeth's com- 
 mand, this passage, perhaps, may furnish a probable 
 conje6lure that it could not appear till after the year 
 1598. The mention of Guiana, then so lately disco- 
 vered to the English, was a very handsome compliment 
 to sir Walter Raleigh, who did not begin his expedi, 
 tion to South America till 1535, and returned from it 
 in 1596, v.ith an advantageous account of the great 
 wealth of Guiana. Such an address of the poet was 
 likely, I imagine, to have a proper impression on tlie 
 people, when the intelligence of such a golden country 
 v,'as fresh in their minds, and gave them expeftatations 
 of immense gain. Theobald. 
 
 390. / zvill be cheater to them bcthy and they shall be 
 
 exchequers to 7ne; ] The same joke is intended 
 
 here, as in the The Second Part of Henry the Fourth , 
 uct ii. 
 
 *< — — I will bar no honest man my house, nor no 
 
 cheater.'''' 
 
 By which is meant EscheatouTy an officer in tiie Exche^ 
 quer, in no good repute with the common people. 
 
 WaR5URT0N%
 
 A61I. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 33 
 
 400. tear you* these letters tightly;] i. e. cleverly, 
 
 alertly. So in Antony and C/eopatra. Antony, putting 
 on his armour, says, 
 
 *' My queen's a squire 
 " More tight at this than thou." 
 Tightly is the reading of the early quarto, and of the 
 first folio, the only authentick ancient copy of this 
 play as enlarged by the author. Rightly is the arbi- 
 trary reading of the quarto 1630, and of the folio 1632 : 
 
 Malone. 
 No phrase is so common in the eastern counties of 
 this kingdom, and particularly in Suffolk, 'ds good tightly, 
 for briskly and effeBually. Henley. 
 
 401. r//;' pinnace ] A pinnace seems an- 
 ciently to have signified a small vessel, or sloop, at- 
 tending on a larger. 
 So in Rowley's When you see me you know me, 1613 : 
 
 *' was lately sent 
 
 *' With threescore sail of ships 2iX\^ pinnaces.'''' 
 Again, in Muleasses the Turk, 1610: 
 
 *' Our life is but a sailing to our death 
 
 " Thro' the world's ocean : it makes no matter 
 
 then, 
 " Whether we put into the world's vast sea 
 *' Shipp'd in z. pinnace or an argosy." 
 At present it signifies only a man of war's boat, 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 404. the humour of this age,'] Thus the 4to, 
 
 i6ig : The folio reads — the honor of the age. 
 
 Steevens, 
 406.
 
 54 ANNOTATIONS UPON AH L 
 
 406. Let vultures gripe thy giits ! ] This hemis- 
 
 tlcli is a burlesque on a passage in Tamburlaine, or The 
 Scythian Shepherd, of which play a more particular ac- 
 count is given in one of the notes to Henry the IV. p. ii. 
 a6t ii. sc. iv. Steevens. 
 
 406. -fur gourd, and fullam holds-, 
 
 And high and low beguiles the rich and poor f\ 
 Fullam is a cant term for false dice, high and low. 
 Torriano, in his Italian di6lionary, interprets Pise by 
 false dice, high and lozo men, highfullams and loiofullams. 
 Jon son, in his Every Man out of his Humour, quibbles 
 upon this cant term: *' Who, he serve? He keeps high 
 men and low men, he has a fair living at fullam." — As 
 for gourd, or rather gord, it was another instrument 
 of gaming, as appears from Beaumont and Fletcher's 
 
 Scornful Lady :■'''■ and thy dry bones can reach at 
 
 nothing now, but gords or inne-pins." Warburton. 
 
 In the London Prodigal I find the following enume- 
 ration of false dice. *' I bequeath two bale of false 
 
 dice, videlicet, high men and low vim, fulloms, stop ca- 
 ter-traies, and other bones of funftion." Steevens, 
 
 410. / have operations in my head, ] The words 
 
 in Roman, which are omitted in the folio, were re.^ 
 covered from the early quarto. Ma lone. 
 
 416. / will discuss the humour of this love to Ford.'] 
 The very reverse of this happens. See aft ii. where 
 Ny7n makes the discovery to Page, and not to Ford, as 
 here promised; and Pistol, on the other hand, to Ford, 
 and not to Page. Shakspere is frequently guilty of 
 these little forgetfulnesses. Steevens. 
 
 Though
 
 ASl I. MERPvY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 35 
 
 Though Shakspere is sometimes forgetful, it appears 
 from the first copy of this play that the editors of the 
 folio alone are answerable for the present inaccuracy. 
 In the early quarto Nym declares, he will m.ake the 
 discovery to Page; and Pistol says, " And I to Ford 
 will likewise tell," &:c. And so without doubt these 
 speeches ought to be printed. Ma lone. 
 
 423. ycUowiKSSj ] Yellowness is jealousy. 
 
 Johnson. 
 So, in Law Tricks, Sec. 1608: 
 
 *' If you have me you must not put Gnyel/ow.'''' 
 Again, m TAe Arraignment of Paris, 1584: 
 
 " Flora well, perdie, 
 
 " Did paint her yellow for her jealousy.'" 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 423. t/ie revolt of mien ] The revolt of mine 
 
 is the old reading. Revolt of mien, is change of coun- 
 tenance., one of the effects he has just been ascribing to 
 jealousy. Steevens. 
 
 This, Mr. Steevens truly observes to be the old 
 reading, and it is authority enough for the revolt of mien 
 in modern orthography. " Know you that fellow that 
 walketh there r" says Eliot, 1593 — *' he is alchymist 
 by his mien, and hath multiplied all to moonshine." 
 
 Farmer. 
 434. at the latter end, &-C.] i. e. when my mas- 
 ter is in bed. ^ Johnson. 
 
 437. no breed bate: ] Bate is an obsolete 
 
 word signifying strife, contention. So, in the Coun- 
 tess
 
 36 ANNOTATIONS UPON Acl L 
 
 tess of Pembroke's Antom'usy 1530 : 
 *' Shall ever civil date 
 " Gnaw and devour our state !" 
 Again, in Aco/astus, a comedy, 1540: 
 
 " We shall not fall at /?ate, or stryve for this 
 matter.'" 
 Statfyhirstj in his translation of Virgil, 1,582, calls 
 Erinnys a vmke bate. Ste evens. 
 
 438. He's soviewhat peevisli that way ;] I believe this 
 is one of Dame Quickly's blunders, and she means 
 precise. Ma lone. 
 
 peevish'] Peevish is foolish. So in Cymbelinet 
 
 act ii. 
 
 <* he's strange and/;<ra'/i-,^." Steevens. 
 
 446. a little ViQQface^ ] Wee, in the nor- 
 
 ihern dialect, signifies very little. Thus in the Scottish 
 proverb, that apoligizes for a little woman's marriage 
 with a big man : " — A wee mouse will creep under a 
 mickle cornstack . C o l Li n s . 
 
 So in Hey wood's Fair Maid of the JVest, com. 1631 : 
 *>' "He was nothing so tall as I, but a little wee man, and 
 somewhat hutch-back." Again, in The JVisdom of Doc- 
 tor Dodypoll^ 1600: 
 
 " Some two miles, and a zvee bit, Sir." 
 Wee is derived from wenig. Dutch. On the authority 
 of the 4to, 1619, we might be led to read Tjohey-i-esit : 
 *' — Somewhat of a weakly man, and has as it were a 
 7x)hay -zoXoxw'itA beard." Macbeth calls one of the mes- 
 sengers H'hfy-face. Steevens. 
 Littk wee is certainly the right reading; it implies 
 
 some-
 
 A61 I. MERK.Y WIVES OF WINDSOR. 37 
 
 something extremely diminutive, and is a very com- 
 mon vulgar idiom in the North. Wee alone has only 
 the signification of little. Thus Cleiveland : 
 
 " A Yorkshire wee bitt, longer than a mile." 
 The proverb is a mile and a wee bit; i. e. about a league 
 and a half. Remarks. 
 
 447. a C-3\n- colour'' d beard. ]^ Cain and Judas, 
 
 in the tapestries and piiitures of old, ivere represented 
 withj)T//ory beards. Theobald. 
 
 Theobald's conjeclure may be countenanced bv a 
 parrallel expression in an old play called Blurt Master 
 Constable^ ox^ The Spaniard's Night-Walk^ 1602: 
 
 " over all, 
 
 " A goodly, long, thick, Abrahain-coloured ht^.xd.'''' 
 Again, \n Solvnan and Pcrseda, i599) Basilisco says : 
 
 " where is the eldest son of Priam, 
 
 " That Abraham-colour'' d Trojan ?" . 
 
 I am not however certain, but that Abraham may be a 
 corruption oi Auburn. Again, in The Spanish Tragedy, 
 1605: 
 
 " And let their beards be of Judas his own colour.'''' 
 Again, in A Christian turn'' d Turk, 1612: 
 
 " That's he in the Judas beard." 
 
 Again, in the Insatiate Countess y 1613: 
 
 " I ever thought by his red beard he would prove 
 a Judas. ''^ 
 In an age, when but a small part of the nation could 
 read, ideas were frequently borrowed from presenta- 
 tions in painting or tapestry. A cane-colouTGd beard, 
 however, might signify a beard of the colour of cane, 
 D i. e.
 
 gS ANNOTATIONS UPON A& I. 
 
 i. c. a sickly yellow; ior straw -coXowredi beards are men- 
 tioned in the Midsuvimcr Night's Dream. Steevens. 
 The new edition of Leland's Colle&anea^ vol. v. p. 
 295, asserts, that painters constantly represented Judas 
 the traytor with a r^d head. Dr. Plot's Oxfordshire^ p. 
 153, says the same. This conceit is thought to have 
 arrisen' in England, from our ancient grudge to the 
 red-haired Da.nes^ ToLLET. 
 
 See my quotation in A'. HcJiry VIII. aft. v. 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 450. as tall a man of his hands^ ] Perhaps 
 
 this is an allusion to the jockey measure, so many hands 
 high^ used by grooms wlien speaking of horses. Tall, 
 in our author's time, signified not only height of sta- 
 ture, but stoutness of body. The ambiguity of the 
 phrase seems intended. Percy. 
 
 Wha.tever be the origin of this phrase, is very an- 
 cient, being used by Gower ; 
 
 " A worthie knight was of his hcnde, 
 
 ** There was none suche in all the londe." 
 
 De Confessione Amantis, lib. v. fol. 118. b. 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 461. ^we shall be skent ] i. e. Scolded, 
 
 roughly treated. So in the old Interlude of Nature^ 
 bl, h no date : 
 
 '* 1 can tell thee one thyng, 
 
 <« In fayth you wyll be shent.'" Steevens. 
 
 465 and down ^ dczun^ a-down-a^ &c.] To de- 
 ceive her master, she sings as if at her work. 
 
 Sir J Hawkins. 
 This
 
 ABI. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 39 
 
 This appears to have been tlie burden of some song 
 tlien well known. In Every Woman in her Hiimcurj 
 1609, sign. E. 1. one of the characters says, " Hey 
 good boies i'faith now a three man's song, or the old 
 dozune a. detune.''^ Reed. 
 
 467. Enter Doctor Cains.'] It has been thought 
 strange, tliat our autlior should take the name of Cains 
 for his Frenchman in this comedy; but Shakspere was 
 little acquainted with literary history; and witiiout 
 doubt, from this unusual name, supposed him to have 
 been a foreign quack. Add to this, that the doctor 
 was handed down as a kind of Rosicrucian : Mr. 
 Ames had in MS. one of the '* Secrd Writings cf Dr. 
 Caius.'" Farmer. 
 
 This chara6ler of Dr. Cains might have been drawn 
 from the life ; as in JacAe of Dover's Ouest of Enquirie, 
 1604 (perhaps a republication), a story called The 
 Focle of Winsor begins thus " Upon a time there was 
 in Winsor a certain simple ontlandish dotior cf pliisicke 
 belonging to the deane," &cc. Steeyens. 
 
 468. un boitier verd; ] Boitier in French 
 
 signifies a case of surgeon's instruments. Grey. 
 
 I believe it rather means a box of salve, or case to 
 hold simples, for which Caius professes to seek. The 
 same word, somewhat curtailed, is used by Chaucer, 
 in the Pardoneres Prologue, v. 12241 : 
 
 ** And every boist full of thy letuarie." 
 Again, in the Skynner's Play, in the Chester Collec- 
 tion of Mysteries. MS. Harl. p. 149, Mary Magdalen 
 says: 
 
 D ^ "To
 
 ^O ANNOTATIONS UPON Acl II. 
 
 *' To balme his bodye that is so brighte, 
 
 ** Boist here have I brought." Steevens. 
 
 43- What, the gcujere!] So in A'. Lear : 
 
 *' The gcujecrs shall devour them." 
 The gcvjcre; i. e. morbus Gallkus. See Hanmer's note, 
 K. Lear, -^av. Steevens. 
 
 457. You shall hcvcdinfoor s-head ] Mrs. Qu^ickly, 
 
 I believe, intends a quibble between am, sounded 
 broad, and one, which was formerly sometimes pro- 
 nounced en. In. the Scottish dialect one is written, and 
 1 suppose pronounced, ane. 
 
 In 1603, was published Ane verie excellent and de- 
 legable treatise intitulit PhiJotus, &c. 
 
 In aft ii. sc. i. of this play, an seems to have been 
 misprinted for one : 
 
 ** What an unweigh'd behaviour," &c. 
 The mistake tliere probably arose from the similarity 
 of the sounds. Malone. 
 
 570. d/(t I detest, an honest maid as ever broke 
 
 bread.'] Dame Quickly means to say /protest. 
 
 Malone. 
 
 4Cr II. 
 
 Line 4. '1 HOUGH love use reason fm his precisian, 
 
 he admits him not for his counsellor :—^ — ] This 
 ^>curc: but the iiieaning is, ihovgh love permit reason to 
 
 ell 
 
 :isian, '\ 
 is ob- f 
 
 :i
 
 ASIII. MERRY WIVE3 OF V/INDSOR. 4I 
 
 tell what is Jit to be done, he seldom follows its advice. — By 
 precisian^ is meant one who pretends to a more than 
 ordinary degree of virtue and sanclity. On which ac- 
 count they gave this name to the Puritans of that 
 time. So Osborne — " Conform their rnode, words^ and 
 looks to these precisians." And Maine, in his City 
 Match : 
 
 " 1 did commend 
 
 " A great precisian to her for her woman." 
 
 Warburton. 
 
 -precisian, ] Of this word I do not see 
 
 any meaiiing chat is very apposite to the present 
 intention. Perhaps Falstaff said^ Though love use reason 
 as his physician, he admits him not for his counsellor. 
 This will be plain sense. Ask. not the reason of my 
 love ; the business of reason is not to assist love, but 
 to cure it. There m.ay however be this meaning in the 
 present reading, Though love, when he would submit 
 to regulation, may use reason as his precisian, or direc- 
 tor in nice cases, yet when he is only eager to attain 
 his end, he takes not reason for his counsdlor. 
 
 Johnson. 
 Dr. Johnson wishes to read physician ; and this con 
 jefture becomes almost a certainty from a line in uur 
 author's 147th sonnet, 
 
 *' My reason \S\q. physician to my love," &-c. 
 
 Farmer. 
 
 The character oi 2. precisian seems to have been very 
 
 generally ridiculed in the time of Shaksp;rz. So in 
 
 [604: '* You must take her in the right 
 
 D iij 4 Vci
 
 42 ANNOTATIONS UPON Aci IL 
 
 vein then: as, when the sign is in Pisces, a fishmon- 
 ger's wife is very sociable : in Cancer, a prccisiaTis 
 wife is very flexible." Agai'i, Dr. Faifsti/s, 1604 : 
 
 " I will set my countenance like 3. prccismv.'* 
 Again, in Ben Jonson's Case is altered, 1609 ; 
 ** It ]S predsianis7n to alter tliat, 
 •* With austere judgment, which is given by na- 
 ture." Steevens. 
 If physician be the right reading, tlie meamng may 
 be this : A lover, uncertain as yet of success, never 
 takes reason for liis counsellor, but, when desperate, 
 applies to him as his physician. Musg rave. 
 13. Thine own true knight y 
 
 By day or night.] This expression, which is 
 ludicrously employed by Falstaif, anciently meant, at 
 all times. So, in the tliird book of Gower, De Confis- 
 sione Amantis : 
 
 " The Sonne cleped was Machayre, 
 " The daughter eke Canace hight, 
 ** By date botke and eke by night. ^^ 
 Loud and still, was another phrase of the same meaning. 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 20. What 3in unioeigh'd behaviour y ^'C.J Thus the 
 folio and 4to. 1630. It has been suggested to me, that 
 we should read, one. Steevens. 
 
 21. Flemish drunkard- ] It is not without 
 
 reason that this term of reproach is here used. Sir 
 John Smythe in Certain Discourses^ Sec. 4to. 1590, says, 
 that the habit of drinking to excess was introduced 
 into England from the Low Countries, "by some of 
 
 *' our
 
 Acl U. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 43 
 
 ** our such men of warre within these very few years, 
 " whereof it is come to passe that now-a-days there 
 ♦' are very fewe feastes where our said men of warre 
 *' are present, but that they do invite and procure all 
 •' the companie, of what calling soever they be, to 
 *' carowsing and quaffing; and, because they will not 
 ** be denied their challenges, they, with many new 
 " conges, ceremonies, and reverences, drinke to the 
 *' health and prosperitie of princes; to the health of 
 *' counsellors, and unto the health of their greatest 
 *' friends both at home and abroad; in which exercise 
 " they never cease till they be dead drunke, or, as the 
 " Flemings say, Tioot dronken. He adds, " And this 
 ** aforesaid detestable vice hath within these sixe or 
 '* seven yeares taken wonderful roote amongest our 
 '' English Nation, that in times past was wont to be of 
 '* all other nations of Christendome one of the so- 
 »'berest." Reed. 
 
 2,3. / was then frugal of my mirth ;] By break- 
 ing rJiis speech into exclamations, the text may stand; 
 but I once thought it must be read. If / was not then 
 frugal of my mirth . Johnson. 
 
 48. IVhatF—thou liestl—Sir Alice Fordl—Thest 
 knights will HACK ; and so thou shouldst not alter the ar- 
 ticle of thy gentry. '\ Hanmer says, to hack, means to 
 hackney, or prostitute. I suppose he means — Thcsf 
 knights will degrade themselves, so that she will acquire no 
 honour by being connected with them. Perhaps the 
 passage has been hitherto entirely misunderstood. To 
 hack. Is an expression used in the ridiculous scene be- 
 tween
 
 44 ANNOTATIONS UPON A61 !L 
 
 tween Quickly, Evans, and the boy; and signifies, to do 
 ■mischief. The sense of this passage may therefore be, 
 these knights are a riotous, dissolute sort of people, 
 and on that account thou should'st not wish to be of 
 the number. 
 
 It is not, however, impossible that Shakspere meant 
 by — these knights will hack — these knights will soon be- 
 come hackneyed charafters. — So many knights were 
 made about the time this play was amplified (for the 
 passage is neither in the copy 1602, nor 1619) that 
 such a stroke of satire might not have been unjustly 
 thrown in. In Hans Beer Pot's Invisible Comedy^ 1618, 
 is a long piece of ridicule on the same occurrence : 
 ** 'Twas strange to see v^\\2X knighthood owct would 
 do: 
 
 ** Stir great men up to lead a martial life 
 
 *' To gain this lionour and this dignity. 
 
 ** But now, alas ! 'tis grown ridiculous; 
 
 ** Since bought with money, sold for basest prize, 
 
 ** That some refuse it who are counted wise." 
 
 Steevens. 
 These knights will hack (that is, become cheap and 
 vulgar), and therefore she advises her friend not to sully 
 her gentry by becoming one. The whole of this dis- 
 course about knighthood is added since the first edi- 
 tion of this play ; and therefore I suspeft this is an 
 oblique reflection on the prodigality of James I. in 
 bestowing tliese honours, and in erecting in 1'. 11 a 
 new order of knighthood, called Baronets ; which few 
 of the ancient gentry would condescend to accept. See 
 
 sir
 
 Adll. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR 4,) 
 
 sir Hugh Spelman's epigram on them, Gloss, p. 76, 
 which ends thus : 
 
 " dum cauponare recusant 
 
 " Ex vera geniti nobihtate viri ; 
 " Interea e cauhs hie prorepit, ille tabernis, 
 *' Et mode fit dominus,qui modo servus erat." 
 See another stroke at them in Othello, aft iii. 
 
 To kick and to hack^ in Mrs. Quickley's language, 
 signifies to stammer or hesitatCy as boys do in saying 
 tlier lessons. Blackstone. 
 
 Between the time of King James's arrival at Berwick 
 in April 1603, and the 20th of May, he made two hun- 
 dred and thirty-seven knights ; and, in the July follow- 
 ing, between three and four hundred. It is highly pro- 
 bable that tjie play before us was enlarged in that or the 
 subsequent year, when this stroke of satire must have 
 been highly relished by the audience. That the order 
 of Baronets was pointed at liere, is, I think, highly 
 improbable. Ma lone. 
 
 51. We burn day -light U ] i. e. we have more 
 
 proof than we Vvant. The same proverbial phrase 
 occurs in the Spanish Tragedy : 
 
 Hier. ** Light me your torclies." 
 Pedro. '* Then zoe burn day -light.'''' 
 So in Romeo and Juliet^ Mercutio uses tlie same ex- 
 pression, and then explains it : 
 
 " IVe waste our lights in vain like lamps by day.'''' 
 
 SrrEVENS 
 I tliink, the meaning rather is, we are wasting tiiue 
 in idle talk, when we ought to read tlie letter: re- 
 
 scmblina
 
 46 ANNOTATIONS UPON Acl IL 
 
 sembling those who waste candles by burning them in I 
 the day-time. Malone. 
 
 60. Green Sleeves.'] This song was entered on 
 
 the books of the Stationer's Company in September 
 1580: *' Licensed unto Richard Jones, a newe nor- 
 thern dittye of the lady Green Sleeves." Again, " Li- 
 censed unto Edward White, a ballad, beinge the lady 
 Greene Sleeves f answered to Jenkyn hir friend." Again, 
 in the same month and year : " Gree?? Sleeves moralized 
 to the Scripture," &c. Again to Edward White : 
 
 " Green Sleeves and countenaunce. 
 
 *' In countenaunce is Green Sleeves.'''' Steevens* 
 
 y^. press ] Press is used ambiguously, for 
 
 z press to print, and a. press to squeeze. Johnson.. 
 
 84. some strain in ?»€,] Thus the old copies.. 
 
 The modern editors read, 
 
 " some stain in me," 
 but, I think, unnecessarily. A similar expression oc- 
 curs in T/ie Winter'' s Tale: 
 
 *' With what encounter so uncurrent, have I 
 
 " Strain' d to appear thus ?" 
 And again in Tijnon : 
 
 " a noble nature 
 
 " May catch a wrenc/i/* Steevens. 
 
 96. the chariness of our honesty.] i. e. the 
 
 caution which ought to attend on it. Steevens, 
 
 97. Ohy that my husband saw this letter!] Surely 
 Mrs. Ford does not wish to excite the jealousy, of 
 which she complains. I think we should read — Oh, 
 if my husband, &c. and thus the copy, 1619 : " Oh 
 
 lord>
 
 ABII, MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR, 47 
 
 lord, {/my husband should see the letter ! i' faith, this 
 would even give edge to his jealousie." Steevens. 
 
 107. curtail-dog J i. e. a dog that misses 
 
 his game. The tail is counted necessary to the agility 
 of a greyhound. Johnsox. 
 
 112. golly -mawfry; ']i. €. A medley. So in 
 
 the Winter's Tale: *' They have a dance, which the 
 wenches say is a gallimaufry of gambols." Pistol lu- 
 dicrously uses it for a woman. Thus, in A l/oman 
 never ve.x'dy 1632 : 
 
 *' Let us show curselvesgallantsor^^//z-7;?az{/r/e5.'* 
 
 Steevens. 
 The folio reads : 
 
 " He loves the gallymanfry " 
 
 which may be right. — He loves a medley ; all sorts of 
 women, high and low, &c. 
 
 Ford's reply love my wife may refer to v.liat 
 
 Pistol had said before : 
 
 '< 5/r John affeEis thy wife.'' Ma LONE. 
 
 I am not induced by this reasoning to follow the 
 
 folio. Steevens. 
 
 112. Ford, /'fr/-^,'7fl'.] This is perhaps a ridicule 
 
 on a passage in the old comedy of Cambyses: 
 
 *' My sapient words I %7i\ perpend.''' 
 Again : 
 
 " My queen perpend what T pronounce." 
 Shakspere has put the same v.ord into the mouth of 
 Polonius. Steevens. 
 
 120. ■ cuckoo birds do sin g.'\ Such is the reading 
 
 of the folio, and the quarto 1630. The quartos 16c 2, 
 and 1619, read : 
 
 «« -^whcn
 
 ANNOTATIONS UPON AH 11. 
 
 -when cuc/wo-lfirdi appcdv.'" Steevens. 
 
 121. Away, sir corporal Nym. 
 
 Believe if y Page; he speaks sense. '\ Nym, I be- 
 lieve, is out of place, and we should read thus : 
 Awaj'y sir corporal. 
 
 Nym. Believe it y Page ; /le speaks sense. Johns ox. 
 
 Perhaps Dr. Johnson is mistaken in his conjefture. 
 He seems not ro have been aware of the manner in 
 \vhic]i the author meant this scene should be repre- 
 sented. Ford and Pistol, Page and Nym, enter in 
 pairs, each pair in separate conversarion : and while 
 Pistol is informing- Ford of Falstaff's design upon his 
 wife, Nym is, during that time, talking aside to Page, 
 and giving information of the like plot against /lim. — 
 When Pistol has finished, he calls out to Nym to come 
 away; but seeing that he and Page are still in close 
 debate, he goes off alone, first assuring Page, he may 
 depend on the truth of Nym's story. Believe it. Page. 
 Nym then proceeds to tell the remainder of his tale out 
 aloud. And this is true, 8cc. A little further on in this 
 scene. Ford says to Page, Ton heard what this knave 
 (i e. Pistol) told me. Page replies, Tes, and you heard 
 what the other (i. e. Nym) told me. Steevens. 
 
 122. Believe it. Page; he speaks sense.] Thus has 
 the passage been hitherto printed, says Dr. Farmer ; 
 but surely we should read, as it now stands in the 
 text. Believe it Page, he speaks, means no more than 
 
 P^,^e, believe what he says. This sense is expressed 
 
 not only in the manner peculiar to Pistol, but to the 
 granmiar of tlie times. Steevens. 
 
 127.
 
 AdII. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 45 
 
 127. ■ 1 have a sword y and it shall bite upon viy 
 
 necessity. — He loves your wife^ &c.] Nym, to gain credit, 
 says, that he is above tlie mean office of carrying love • 
 letters ; lie has nobler means of living; he has a swordy 
 and upon his necessity, i. e. when his need drives him to un- 
 lazoful expedients y his sv.ord shall lite. JoHNSOX. 
 
 134. The humour of it, ] The following epi- 
 gram taken from an old collection without date, but 
 apparently printed before the year 1600, will best ac- 
 count for Nym's frequent repetition of the word hu- 
 mour Epig. 27. 
 
 Aske HuMOUii what a feather he doth weare, 
 
 It is his humour (by the Lord) he'll sweare. 
 
 Or what he doth with such a horse-taile locke ; 
 
 Or why upon a whore he spends his stocke ? 
 
 He hath a humour doth determine so. 
 
 Why in the stop-throte fashion he doth goe, 
 
 With scarfe about his necke, hat w ithout band ? 
 
 It is his humour. Sweet sir, understand 
 
 What cause his purse is so extreame distrest 
 
 That ofrentimes is scarcely penny-blest ? 
 
 Only a humour. If you question why 
 
 His tongue is ne'er unfurnish'd with a lye ? 
 
 It is his humour too he doth protest. 
 
 Or why with Serjeants he is so opprest, 
 
 That like to ghosts they haunt him ev'rie day ? 
 
 A rascal humour dotli not love to pay. 
 
 Objeft w hy bootes and spurres are still in season ? 
 
 His humour answers : humour is liis reason. 
 
 If you perceive his wits in wetting shrunke, 
 
 It Cometh of a humour to be drunke. 
 
 E Whea
 
 5© ANNOTATIONS UPON Acl II. 
 
 When yoi! behold his lookes pale, thin, and poore, 
 Th' occasion is, his humour and a whoore. 
 And every thing that he doth undertake, 
 It is a veine, for senceless humour's sake. 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 140. / will not believe such a Catalan y ] That by 
 
 a Catalan some kind of sharper was meant, I infer from 
 the following passage in Love and Honour, a play by 
 sir W. Davenant, 1649: 
 
 ** Hang him, bold Catalan, he indites finely, 
 " And will live as well by sending short epistles, 
 ** Or by the sad whisper at your gamester's ear, 
 *' When the great By is drawn, 
 " As any dlstrcst gallant of them all." 
 Cathala is mentioned in the Tamer Tamed, of Beaumont 
 and Fletcher: 
 
 ** I'll wish you in the Indies, or Cathala.'" 
 The tricks of the Catalans are hinted at in one of the 
 old black letter histories of that country ; and again 
 in a dramatic performance, called the Pedlcr's PrO' 
 
 P^^9'y 159.5 •• 
 
 " ■ in the east part of Inde, 
 
 '• Through seas and floods, they work all thievish.'" 
 Mr.Maloneobserves,thatin abookof Shakspere'sage, 
 entitled, A brief Description of the whole World, *' — the 
 people of China are (said to be) very politick and crafty, 
 and in respect thereof contemning the wits of others ; 
 using a proverb, That all other nations do see but 
 with one eye, but they with two." Steevens. 
 
 143. ' Twas a good sensible fellow : ] This, and the 
 
 two
 
 AclII. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 5I 
 
 two preceding speeches of Ford, are spoken lo him- 
 self, and have no connection witli tlie sentiments of 
 Page, who is Hkewise making his comment on what 
 had passed, without attention to Ford. Steevens. 
 
 187. rctvz/trc justice,] So \\\ The Stately Moral 
 
 of three Ladies cf London y 1590 : 
 
 ** Then know, Castihan cavalier osy this." 
 There is a book printed in 1599, called, A countcrcvjfe 
 given to Martin Jioiicr ; by the venturous^ hardicj and re- 
 nowned Pasquil of Englande^ Cava L LIE KG. Steevens. 
 
 209, and tell him^ my name is B rooky ] Thus 
 
 both tlie old quartos ; and thus most certainly the 
 poet v.rote. We need no better evidence than the pun 
 that Falstaff anon makes on the name, when Brook 
 ^ends him some burnt sack. 
 
 *< Such Brooks are welccme to viey that ovcrfow zvith 
 such liquor.^'' 
 The players, in their editions, altered the name to 
 Brccm. Theobald. 
 
 211. said I well?'] The learned editor of tlw 
 
 Canterbury Talcs of Chaucer, in 4 vols. 8vo. 177,3, ob- 
 serves, tliat this phrase is given to the host in the Par- 
 dcnert' s Prologue : 
 
 *' Said 1 not well ? I cannot speke in terme :" 
 v. 12246. and adds, *' it may be sufficient with the 
 other circumstances of general resemblance, to make 
 us believe that Shakspere, \\\\q\\ lie drew tlie cha- 
 ra6ier, had not forgotten his Chaucer." The same 
 gentleman lias since informed me, that the passage is 
 E ij not
 
 52 ANNOTATIONS UPON A61 II. 
 
 not found in any of the ancient printed editions, but 
 only in the MSS. Steevens* 
 
 212. — — Willyou go A.'i>i-n'E\KS\'] This nonsense 
 is spoken to Shallow. We should read, Willyou go 
 ON HERis ? i. e. Will you go on, master? Herisj an 
 old Scotch word for master. Warburton. 
 
 The merry Host has already saluted them separately 
 by titles of distinction; he therefore probably now ad- 
 dresses them collectively by a general one, 
 
 " Willyou go on, heroes ?'* 
 
 or, as probably, 
 
 *' Willyou go on., hearts?" 
 
 He calls Dr. Cains Heart of Elder ; and adds, in a 
 subsequent scene of this play. Farewell my hearts. 
 Again, in the Midsummer Night" s Dream, Bottom says, 
 
 " Where are these hearts?'' 
 My brave hearts, or my bold hearts, is a common word 
 of encouragement. A heart of gold expresses the more 
 soft and amiable qualities, the Mores aurei of Horace ; 
 and a heart of oak is a frequent encomium of rugged 
 honesty. Steevens. 
 
 Will you go an-heirs?'] Perhaps we should read, 
 ** Will you go and hear usf So in the next page, 
 
 *' I had rather hear them scold than light." 
 
 Ma LONE. 
 
 2 1 3. Have with you, mine host. ] This speech is given 
 in all the editions to Shallow) but it belongs, I think, 
 to Ford, to whom the host addresses himself when he 
 s.tys: 
 
 '' Will you go and hear us?"* 
 
 It
 
 Aclll. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. ^3 
 
 It is not likely he should address himself to Shallow, 
 because Shallow and he h.ad already concerted the 
 scheme, and agreed to go together ; and accordingly, 
 Shallow says, a little before to Page^ 
 
 *' Will you go with us to behold it ? 
 The former speech of Ford — None I protest^ &c. is 
 given in like manner, in the first folio, to Shallow, in- 
 stead of Ford: The editors corrected the one, but 
 over-looked the other. Malone. 
 
 214. / have h'^ard, the Frenchman hath good skillin his 
 rtpier.'] In the old quarto, here follows these words : 
 ** Shal. I tell you what, master Page; I believe the 
 docl:or is no jester, he'll lay it on ; for though we be 
 justices, and doctors, and churchmen, yet we are the 
 sons of women, master Page. 
 ** Page. True, master Shallow. 
 " Shal. It will be found so, mas-ter Page. 
 *' Page. Master Shallov/, you yourself, have been 
 a great fighter, now a man of peace." 
 
 Part of this dialogue is found afterwards in the third 
 scene of the present act ; but it seem.s more proper 
 here, to introduce what Shallow says of the prowess cf 
 his youth. Malone. 
 
 220. my long iwcrd, ] Before the introduction 
 
 of rapiers, the swords in use were of an enormous 
 length, and sometimes raised with both hands. 5//^/- 
 lowy with an old man's vanity, censures the innovation 
 by which lighter weapons were introduced, tells what 
 he could once have done with his long-sword, and ridi- 
 cules the terms and rules of the rapier. Johnson. 
 E iij The
 
 54 ANNOTATIONS UPON Acl IL 
 
 The two-handed sword is mentioned in the ancient 
 Interlude of Nature, bl. 1. no date : 
 
 *' Somtyme he serveth me at horde, 
 " Somtyme lie bereth my two-hand sword." 
 See a note to the First Part of K. Henry IV. a6l ii. 
 
 Steevens. 
 Dr. Johnson's explanation of the long-sicord is cer- 
 tainly right ; for the early quarto reads my two-hand 
 sword ; so that they appear to have been synonymous. 
 Carleton, in his Thankful Rembrance of God's Mercy, 
 1625, speaking of the treachery of one Rowland York, 
 in betraying the town of Dev^enter to the Spaniards in 
 1587, says ; " he was a Londoner, famous among the 
 cutters in his time, for bringing a new kind of fight — 
 to run the point of a rapier into a man's body. This 
 manner of fight he hrowghtfi'st into England^ with great 
 admiration of his audaciousnes: when in England be- 
 fore that time, the use was, with little bucklers, and 
 with broad swords, to strike and not to thrust; and it 
 was accounted unmanly to strike under the girdle." 
 
 Mal.one. 
 
 221. X^[\ fellows ] The old quartos read — 
 
 l^Wfencers. Steevens. 
 
 226. stand so frnily on his wife^s frailty, ] 
 
 To stand on any thing, does -signify to insist on it. So in 
 Key wood's Rape of Lucrecc, 1630 : " All captains, and 
 stand upon the honesty of your wives." Again in 
 Warner's Albion's England, 1602, book 6. chap. 30. 
 *' For stoutly on their honesties do wylie harlets 
 stand.'* 
 
 The
 
 AclII. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 55 
 
 The jealous Ford is the speaker, and all chastity in wo- 
 men appears to him as ^. frailty. He supposes Page 
 therefore to insist on that virtue as steady, which lie 
 himself suspecls to be without foundation. Steevens. 
 
 234. the world's mine oyster, &c.] Dr. Grey 
 
 supposes Shakspere to allude to an old proverb, 
 
 " The mayor of Northampton opens oysters with 
 
 with his dagger." i. e. to keep them at a sufficient 
 
 distance from his nose, that town being fourscore 
 miles from the sea. Steevens. 
 
 235. / will retort the sum in eqmpag€.'\ This is 
 
 added from the old quarto of 1619, and means, I wil 
 pay you again in stolen goods. Warburton. 
 
 I rather believe he means, that he will pay him by 
 waiting on him for nothing. So in Love's Pilgrimage^ 
 by Beaumont and Fletcher: 
 
 *< And boy, be you my guide, 
 ** For I will make a full descent in equipage.'''' 
 That equipage ever meant stolen goodsy I am yet to learn. 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 Dr. Warburton may be right ; for I find equipage 
 
 was one of the cant words of the time. In Davies* 
 
 Papers Complaint, (a poem which has erroneously been 
 
 ascribed to Donne) v>e have several of them : 
 
 " Embellish, blandishment, and equipage^ 
 Which words, he tells us in the margin, overmuch sa- 
 vour of wit [esse affe6la ticn. Farmer. 
 
 240. your coach-fellow, Xym; ] Thus the old 
 
 copies. Coach fellow has an obvious meaning, but th.e 
 modern editors read, ccuch fellow. The following pas- 
 sage
 
 ^6 ANNOTATIONS UPON A61II. 
 
 sage from B. Jonson'*s Cynthia's Revels may justify the 
 reading I have chosen: ♦* — 'Tis the swaggering co/jc/^- 
 horse Anaides, that draws with him there." Again, in 
 Monsieur D" Olive, 1606: " Are you he, my Page here 
 makes choice of, to be liis fellow coach-horse!'" Again, 
 in a True Narrative of the entertainment of his Royal Ma- 
 jestic, from the time of his departure from Edinburgh, till 
 
 his receiving in London, &c. 1603: " Base pilfering 
 
 theefe was taken who plaid the cutpurse in the court : 
 his fellow was ill mist, for no doubt he had a walking 
 mate: they drew together like coach-horses, and it is 
 a pitie they did not hang together." Again, in Every 
 Woman in her Hu?nour, 1 609 : 
 
 " For wit, ye may be coach" d together." 
 Again, in 10th B. oi Chapman's Translation of Homer; 
 
 ** their chariot horse, as they coach -fcllcxoi 
 
 were." Steevens. 
 
 243. and X.A\ fellows : ] A tall fellow, m 
 
 the time of our author, meant, a stout, bold, or coura- 
 geous person. In A Discourse on Usury, by Dr. Wilson, 
 
 1584, he says, •• Here in England, he that can rob a 
 man by the high way, is called a tall fellow."" Lord 
 Bacon says, •< that bishop Fox caused his castle of 
 Norham to be fortified, and manned it Hkewise with a 
 very great number of tall soldiers."" Steevens. 
 
 244. lost the handle of her fan, ] It should 
 
 be remembered thditfans, in our author's time, were 
 more costly than they are at present, as well as of a 
 different constru(5lion. They consisted of ostrich fea- 
 thers for others of equal length and fiexibility), which 
 
 were
 
 frar/p ■//vt'^-/^ i(m't'}i<i4^ of^[0'^mn d<,C%uir<: ifcel/^ ' 
 
 Z Condon Prmteit /rrr Jo/uv Bfil lin/ish Ijhr,uy Str.mdUfc': 33 'fjy96 .
 

 
 ABIL MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 57 
 
 were stuck into handles. Tlie riclier sort of these 
 were composed of gold, silver, or ivory of curious 
 workmanship. One of them is mentioned in The Fldre^ 
 Com. 1610: " — she hath a fan with a short silver handle, 
 about the length of a barber's syringe." Again, in Love 
 and Hcnour, by sir W. Davenant, 1 649 : '* All your plate, 
 Vaso, is the silver handle of your old prisoner'sya?;." 
 
 In the frontispiece to a play, called Englishmen for 
 my Money ^ or A pleasant Comedy of a Woman will have her 
 IVill^ 1616, is a portrait of a lady with one of these 
 fans, which, after all, may prove the best commen- 
 tary on the passage. Three other specimens are ta- 
 ken from the Habiti Antichi et Moderni di tutto il Mon- 
 dOf published at Venice, 1598, from the drawings of 
 Titian, and Cesare Vecelli, his brother. This fashion 
 was perhaps imported from Italy, together with many 
 others in the reign of King Henry VIII. if not in that 
 of King Richard II. Steevens. 
 
 Thus also Marston, in the Scourge of Villainie, lib. 
 iii. sat. 8. 
 
 " Another he 
 
 " Her silver- handled fan would gladly be.'* 
 And in other places. And bisiiop Hall, in his Satires, 
 pubhshed 1597, lib. v. sat. 4, 
 
 " Whiles one piece pays her idle waiting manne, 
 
 *' Or buys a hoode, or silver-handled id.nne.'" 
 
 Warton. 
 
 It appears from Marstov's Satires, that the sum of 
 
 40I. was sometimes given for a fan in the time of queen 
 
 Elizabeth. Malone. 
 
 <' While
 
 ^8 ANNOTATIONS UPON AiUI. 
 
 In the Sidney papers, published by Collins^ a fan is 
 presented to queen EHzabeth for a new year's gift, 
 the handle of v.hich was studded with diamonds. 
 
 Warton. 
 A repesentation of ihefan here mentioned by Mr. 
 Warton, together with the otliers by Titimi and his 
 brother^ to which Mr. Steeven's refers are here given 
 from a print of them in the notes subjoiyicd to the 
 History <t/Vathok. J. B. 
 
 251. A short kvife and a Xhoug'. ] So Lear: 
 
 " When cutpurses come not to thongs.'' 
 
 Warburton. 
 Part of the employment given by Drayton, in The 
 Mooncalfy to the Baboon^ seems the same with tliis re- 
 commended by Falstaff: 
 
 *' He like a gypsy oftentimes would go y 
 " All kinds of gibberish he hath learn'' d to know: 
 ** And with a sticky a short strings and a noose ^ 
 <* Would show the people tricks at fast and loose. '^ 
 Theobald has throng instead of thong. The latter seems 
 right. Lang TON. 
 
 Both the folio and quarto read throng. Ma lone. 
 Greene, in his L7fe of Ned Browne y 1592, says: " I 
 had no other fence but my short knifcy and a paire of 
 purse-strings ." StEEVENS. 
 
 See a note on Antony and Cleopatra, that explains 
 the trick o^ fast and loose. Sir J. Hawkins. 
 
 251. Pickt-hatchy ] A noted place for 
 
 thieves and pick- pockets. Theobald. 
 
 Pia-
 
 AclU. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. q(j 
 
 PiEl-hatck is frequently mentioned by contemporary 
 writers. So, in Ben Jonson's Every Man in his Humour: 
 
 " From the Bordello it might come as well, 
 
 '' The Spiral, or Picl-hatchr 
 Again, in Randolph's A/i/ifi Z^JC/^z^g-.^/fli^, 1638: 
 
 ** the lordship of Turnbidl so 
 
 ** Which with my Pict-hatch^ Grange, and Shore- 
 ditch farm," &c. 
 PiB- hatch was in TurnbuU-strett : 
 
 *• your whore doth live 
 
 '* In Pift-hatch, Turnbidl-streetr 
 
 Amendsfcr Ladies^ a Comedy by N. Field, 1639. 
 The derivation of the word PiB-hatch may perhaps be 
 discovered from the following passage in Cupid's Whir- 
 
 ligigy 1607: '* Set some picks upon your hatch, 
 
 and I pray, profess to keep a bawdy-house." Per- 
 haps the unseasonable and obstreperous irruptions of 
 the gallants of that age might render such a precau- 
 tion necessary. So, in Pericles P. of Tj'/v, 1609: 
 
 *' If in our youths we could pick up some pretty 
 
 estate, 'twere not amiss to keep our door hatched,'"'' a.c. 
 
 Steevens. 
 This was a cant name of some part of the town 
 noted for bawdy-houses ; as appears from the follow- 
 ing passage in Marston's Scourge Jcr Villafiie, lib. iii. 
 sat. 1 1 : 
 
 " Looke, who yon do'th go? 
 
 " The meager ietcher lewd Luxurio. 
 
 " No newe edition of drabbes come out, 
 
 *' But seenc and allow'dby Luxurio's snout. 
 
 *' Did
 
 do ANNOTATIONS UPON Ad J I' 
 
 *' Did ever any man ere hear him talke 
 
 <* But oi Pick hatch J or of some Shoreditch balke, 
 
 " Aretine's filth," &c. 
 Sir Thomas Hanmer says, that this was " a noted 
 harbour for thieves and pickpockets," who certainly 
 W'ere proper companions for a man of Pistol's profes- 
 sion. But FalstafF here more immediately means to 
 ridicule another of his friend's vices; and there is 
 some humour in calling Pistol's favourite brothel, his 
 manor of Pickt-hatch. Marston has another allusion 
 to J^ickt-hatch or Pick-hatch, which confirms tliis illus- 
 tration : 
 
 " His old cynicke dad 
 
 ** Hath forc't "'icm cleane forsake his Pick-hatch 
 drab." Lib, i. sat. 3. Warton. 
 
 259. ensconce your rags, &-c.] A sconce is a 
 
 petty fortification. To ensconce, therefore, is to pro- 
 tect as with a fort. The v/ord occurs again in K. 
 Henry IV. Part I. Steevens. 
 
 260. red lattice phrases, ] Your ale-house 
 
 conversation. Johnson. 
 
 Red lattice at the doors and v.indows, \vcre formerly 
 the external denotem.ents of an ale-house So, in A 
 Fine Coynp anion, one of Shackerley Marmion's plays: 
 
 " A waterman's widow at the sign of the red 
 
 /(firi^zVi? in Southwark." Again, m Arden of Feversham, 
 1592 : 
 
 " his sign pulled down, and his lattice born 
 
 away." 
 Again, m the Miseries of enforced Marriage, 1607 : 
 
 «t 'tift
 
 Aa II. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Si 
 
 " 'tis treason to the red lattice^ enemy to 
 
 the sign-post." 
 Hence the present chequers. Perhaps the reader will 
 express some surprize, when he is told that shops, 
 with the sign of the chequers j were common among 
 the Romans. See a view of the left hand street of 
 Pompeii, (No. 9.) presented by Sir William Hamilton 
 (together with several others, equally curious), to 
 the Antiquary Society . S t e E v e N s . 
 your red l^iiUce phrasr:s.'\ Again, m.ore appo- 
 sitely, in A Strapadofor the Divell., by R. Braithwaite, 
 1615 : " To the true discoverer of secrets, Monsieur 
 Bacchus^ — Master gimner of the pottle-pot ordnance, 
 ^rimo. founder o^ red lattices. Sec. Ma Lome. 
 
 293. canaries.'] This is the name of a 
 
 brisk light dance, and is therefore properly enough 
 used in low language for any hurry or perturbation. 
 
 Johnson. 
 So Nash, in Pierce Penny less his Supplication^ ^oS5-> 
 says : "A merchant's wife jets it as gingerly, as if 
 she were dancing the canaries.'" It is highly probable, 
 however, that canaries is only a n.istake of Mrs. 
 Qiiickly's for quandaries ; and yet the Clown, in As 
 Tou Like it^ says, " we that are true lovers run into 
 strange capers." Steevexs. 
 
 309. earls, nay, which is more, pensioners ; 1 
 
 This may be illustrated by a passage in Gervase Hol- 
 les's Life of the First Earl of Clare. Biog. Brit. Art. 
 HoLLES. *' I have heard the carl of Clare sav, 
 that when he y^-^s pensioner to the queen, he did not 
 F kno;r
 
 62 ANNOTATIONS UPON Acl IL 
 
 know a worse man of the wliole band than himself; 
 and that all the world knew he had then an inherit- 
 ance of 4000I. a year." Tyrwhitt. 
 
 Barrett, in his Alvearie^ or Quadruple Didiionary, 
 1580, says, that a pensioner was " a gentleman about 
 his prince alvvaieredie, with his speare." Steevens. 
 
 '' In the month of December, 1539," says Stowe. 
 [Annals, p. 973. edit. 1605], "were appointed to wait 
 on the king's person fifty gentlemen, Cd\\t6. pensioners, 
 or spears, like as they were in the first yeare of the 
 king ; unto whom was assigned the summe of fiftie 
 pounds yearly for the mayntcnance of themselves, and 
 every man two horses, or one horse and a gelding of 
 Service." 
 
 Their dress was remarkably splendid, and there- 
 fore likely to strike Mrs. Quickly — Hence, in A Mid" 
 summer Night's Dream , our author selected from all 
 the tribes of flowers, the goldcn-coatcd cowslips for 
 pensioners to the Fairy Queen. 
 
 " The cowslips tall, her pensioners be ; 
 
 *' \\\X\\t\x gold coats spots you may see," &c. 
 
 Ma LONE. 
 
 319. — you wot of; ] To xeot is to know. 
 
 Obsolete. So in K. Henry Fill. 
 
 *' IVot you what I found ?" Steevens. 
 
 322. -frampold ] This word I have never 
 
 seen elsewhere, except in Dr. Hacket's Life of Arch- 
 bishop Williams, where ^frampul man signifies a pee- 
 vish troublesome fellow. Johnson. 
 In The Roaring Girl, a comedy, 1611, I meet with 
 
 a word, 
 5
 
 Afl. II. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 63 
 
 a word, which, though differently spelt, appears to be 
 the same. 
 
 Lax. " Coachman. 
 Coach. *' Anon, sir! 
 
 Lax. •* Are we fitted with good phrampdl jades ?" 
 Ray, among his South and Eait country words, says 
 X\\di\.frampatd^ or frampardy signifies fretful^ peevish^ 
 cross y frozvard. Ps.% frozoard (he adds) comes from 
 fromy so radcy frampard. 
 
 Nash, in his Praise of the Red Herringy 1399, speak- 
 ing of Leander, says; " the churlish/z-a^w/Jo/t/ waves 
 gave him his belly full offish-broth." 
 
 So, in The Inner Temple Masqucy by Middlcton 1619 : 
 
 '■*■ 'tis so frampoley the puritans will never yield 
 
 to it." So, in. The Blind Beggar of Bethnal GreeUy by 
 John Day : 
 
 <' I think the fellow'syraw/?/f," &:c. 
 So, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Wit at several Wea- 
 pons : 
 
 ** Is Pompey groun so malapert, sofraviple?'''' 
 
 Steevexs. 
 
 Thus, in the Isle of Gulls — " What a goodyer aile 
 
 your mother, are you frampxdly know you not your 
 
 own daughter ? " Henley. 
 
 345- ^° ^^^^ her your little page, of all loves : — ] 
 
 Of all lovesy is an adjuration only, and signifies no 
 more, than if she had said, desires you to send him by 
 all means. 
 
 It is used in Decker's Honest Whorcy Part I. 1635 : 
 
 — "conjuring his wife, of all loz'es^ to prepare cheer 
 
 Fij fitting,"
 
 ^4 ANNOTATIONS UPON A61 II. 
 
 fitting," Sec. Again, in Holinshed's Chronicle^ 
 p. 1064 : *' Mrs. Arden desired him, of all lovesj to 
 eome backagaine." Steevens. 
 
 358. a nay word, ] i. c. a umtxh word. So in a 
 
 subsequent scene : *' — We have a nay-word to know- 
 one another," &c. Steevens. 
 
 369. This PINK M one of Cupid'' s carriers : 
 
 Clap on more sails ; pursue j up with your fghts ; 
 
 Give fire, she is my prize ;] A pink is a vessel of the 
 small crafts employed as a carrier (and so culled) for 
 mercliants. Fletcher uses the word in liis Tamer 
 Turned ; 
 
 *' Tnis FINK, this painted foist, this cockle-boat, 
 
 " To hang her fights out, and defy me, friends ! 
 
 " A well known man of war." 
 
 As to the word fights, both in the the text and in the 
 quotation, it was then, and, for aught I know, may 
 be now, a common sea-term. Sir Richard Hawkins, 
 in his Voyages, p. 66, says : '* For once we cleared 
 her deck, and had we been able to have spared but a 
 dozen men, dor.btless we had done with lier what we 
 would; for she had no close fights," i. e. if I 
 understand it right, no small arms. So that by 
 fights is meant any manner of defence, either small 
 arms or cannon. So, Dryden, in his tragedy of Am- 
 boyna : 
 
 *' Up v/ith your fights, 
 " And your nettings prepare," &c. 
 But, not considering this, I led the Oxford editor into 
 
 a silly
 
 yid. II. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 65 
 
 a silly conjeaure, which he has done me the honour 
 of putting into hs text, which is indeed a proper place 
 for it. 
 
 " Up with YOND FRIGAT.'" WaRBURTON. 
 
 So, in The Ladies Privilege^ 1640 : "These gentle- 
 men know better to cut a caper than a cable, or board 
 a. pink in the Bordells, than a pinnace at sea." A 
 small salmon is called a salmon-pink. 
 
 Dr. Farmer, however, observes, that the word 
 punk has been unnecessarily altered to pink. In Ben 
 Johnson's Bartholometo Fair, justice Overdo says of the 
 pig-woman ; " She hath been before me, pimky pin- 
 nace, and bawd, any time these two and twenty years." 
 
 Steeyens. 
 The quotation from Dryden might at least have 
 raised a suspicion, xhAtfgktswtrt neither small arms nor 
 cannon. Fig/its and nettings are properly joined. Figkts, 
 I find, are cloaths hung round the sliip to conceal the 
 men from the enemy, and close-fights are bulk-heads^ 
 or any other shelter that the fabrick of a ship aifords. 
 
 Johnson. 
 So, in Keywood and Rowley's comedy, called For- 
 tune by Land and Sea : " display'd their ensigns, vp 
 
 with all their /eights, their matches in their cocks," &c. 
 So, in the Christian turned Turk, 1612: "Lace the 
 netting, and let down the Jights, make ready the shot," 
 ^c. Again, in the Fair Maid of the West, 1615 : 
 
 *' Then now up with your fights, and let your 
 
 ensigns, 
 '' Blest with St. George's cro^s, play with the 
 winds." 
 
 F iij Again
 
 ANNOTATIONS UPON Act IL 
 
 Again, in Beaumont and Fletcher's Valcnlinian: 
 
 " while I were able to endure a tempest, 
 
 " And bear my Jig hts out bravely, till my tackle 
 
 " Whistled i' th' wind."- • 
 
 384. goto: via:] This cant phrase of exult* 
 
 ation is common in the old plays. So, in Blurt 
 Master Constable .* 
 
 " K/<z for fate! Fortune, lo ! this is all." 
 
 Steevens. 
 Markham uses this word as one of the vocal helps 
 necessary for reviving a horse's spirits in galloping 
 large rings when he grows slothful. Hence this cant 
 phrase (perhaps from the Italian, via) may be used 
 on otlier occasions to quicken or pluck up courage^ 
 
 TOLLET. 
 
 395- ^oi fo charge you ; — ] Tliat is, not with 
 
 a purpose of putting you to expence, or being burthen- 
 sorri'!. Johnson. 
 
 434. meed^ — '■ — ] i. e. rewards, Steevens. 
 
 457. o^ great admittancey — ] i. e. admitted into all, 
 or the greatest companies. Steevens. 
 
 4,58. generally allowed ] Allowed is ap~ 
 
 ■proved. So in K. Lear. 
 
 ** — if your sweet sway 
 
 *< ^//^ci.' obedience," &c. Steevens. 
 
 464. to lay an amiable siege — ] i. e. a siege of 
 
 love. Ma lone. 
 
 473. She is too bright to be looked against.'] 
 
 " Niniium hibricLis aspici." Hor. Ma lone. 
 
 475
 
 A^ II. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 6/ 
 
 ^T^^. instance and argument — ] Instance \s ex- 
 ample. Johnson. 
 
 477. the ward of her purity, ] i.e. The 
 
 defence oi \\, Steevens. 
 
 512. and I tuill aggravate his stile ; — ] Stile is 
 
 a phrase from the Herald's office. Falstaff means, 
 that he will add more titles to those he already enjoys. So, 
 in Heywood's Golden Age, 1611 : 
 
 *' I will create lord of a greater style. ^^ 
 Again, in Spenser's Faery Queen, b. v. c. 2. 
 " As to abandon that which doth contain 
 *' Your honour's stile^ that is, your warlike 
 shield." Steevens. 
 
 524. Amaimon — Barbason^ ] The read- 
 er who is curious to know any particulars concerning 
 these daemons, may find them in Reginald Scott's In- 
 ventorie of the Names j Shapes^ Powers, Governmenty and 
 Effects of Devils and Spirits, of their several Seignories 
 and Degrees, a strange Disccurse worth the reading, 
 p. 377, &c. From hence it appears that Amaimon was 
 king of the East, and Barbatos a great countie or earl. 
 
 Steevens,. 
 
 531. -^ an Irishman with my aqua vitcz bottle, — ] 
 
 Heyv/ood, in his Challenge for Beauty, 1636, men- 
 tions the love of aqua vita:, as chara6teristick of the 
 Irish: 
 
 " The Briton he metheglin quaffs, 
 " The Irish, aqua vita:.''' 
 By aqua vitce, was, I believe, understood, not 
 
 brandy
 
 68 ANNOTATIONS UPON AB II. 
 
 brandy but Ksqud-aughy for wliich tlie Irisli have been 
 long celebrated. So, in Marston's Malccontcnt, 1604: 
 *' The Dutchman for a Drunkard, 
 
 ** The Dane for golden locks, 
 *' The Irishman for usquebaugh^ 
 
 *' The Frenchman for the ." Ma lone. 
 
 Dericke in The Image of Irelandcy 1581, Sign. F 2. 
 mentions Uskebcaghcy and in a note explains it to mean 
 aqua vitx. Reed. 
 
 537. Eleven o'CLch — ] Ford should cather 
 
 have said ten o'clock : the time was between ten 
 and eleven ; and his impatient suspicion was not 
 likely to stay beyond the time. Johnson. 
 
 565. to see thee foiuy ] To foinj I be- 
 lieve, was the ancient term for making ^ thrust in 
 fencing, or tilting. So, in The wise Woman of Hcgs- 
 douy 1638 : 
 
 ** I had my wards, 2i\\d fains and quarter blows." 
 Again, in the Devils Charter y 1607: 
 
 ** suppose my duellist 
 
 ** Should falsify the foine upon me thus, 
 " Here will I take him." 
 Spenser, in his Faery Queen, often uses the word 
 foin. So in b. ii. c. 8. 
 
 " And strook and foyn'd, and lash'd outra- 
 geously." 
 Again, in Holinshed, p. 833. " First six foifies with 
 hand-speares," &c. Steevens, 
 
 5^7' ■ ihy stocky — ] Stock is a corruption of 
 
 stocatOy
 
 Acl II. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 69 
 
 stccatay Italian, from which language the technical 
 term that follow are likewise adopted. Steevens. 
 
 570. — my heart of elder ? — ] It should be remem- 
 ber'd, to make this joke relish, that the elder tree has 
 no heart. I suppose this expression was made use of 
 in opposition to the common one, heart of oak. 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 571. bully Stale? ] The reason why 
 
 Caius is called bully Stale^ and afterwards Urinal, 
 must be sufficiently obvious to every reader, and es- 
 pecially to those whose credulity and weakness have 
 enrolled tliem among the patients of the present Ger- 
 man empiric, who calls himself DoBor Alexander 
 Mayersbach. Steevens. 
 
 574. Castilian ] Castilian and Ethiopian, 
 
 like Catalan^ appear in our author's time to have 
 been cant terms. I have met with them in more than 
 one of the old comedies. So, in a description of 
 the Armada introduced in the Stately Moral of the 
 Three Lords of London, 1 590 : 
 
 " To carry as it were a careless regard 
 '* Of these CastilianSy and their accustomed bra- 
 vado." 
 Again : — ** To parly with the proud Castilians.'" 
 I suppose Castilian was the cant term for Spaniard ia 
 general. Steevens. 
 
 " Thou art 3. Castilian kingyVnmW' quoth mine 
 liost to Dr. Caius. I believe this was a popular slur 
 upon the Spaniards, who were held in great con- 
 tempt after the business of the Armada. Thus we 
 
 have
 
 70 ANNOTATIONS UPON Acl II. 
 
 liave a Treatise Parctneticaly wherein is skewed ike right 
 xvay to resist the Castilian king : and a sonnet, prefixed 
 to Lea's Answer to the Untruths published i?i Spain^ in 
 gbric of their supposed ViBory atchieved against our 
 English Naviey begins, 
 
 *' Thou fond Castilian king /" and so in other 
 places. Farmer. 
 
 Dr. Farmer's observation is just. Don Philip the 
 Second afle6ted the title of King of Spain ; but tlie 
 realms of Spain would not agree to it, and only styled 
 him king o^ Castile said Leon, and so he wrote himself. 
 His cruelty and ambitious views upon otlier states 
 rendered him universally detested. The Castilians 
 being descended chiefly from Jews and Moors, were 
 deemed to be of a malign and perverse disposition ; 
 and hence, perhaps, the term Castilian became oppro- 
 brious. I have extra(^led this note from an old pam- 
 phlet, called The Spanish Pilgrimcy which I have 
 reason to suppose is the same discourse v/ith the 
 Treatise Paranttical, mentioned by Dr. Farmer. 
 
 To L LET. 
 
 581. against the hairy S^.c.'] This phrase is 
 
 proverbial, and taken from stroking the hair of ani- 
 mals a contrary way to that in which it grows — We 
 now say, against \.hc grain. Steevens. 
 
 599' mock-water.'] The host means, I be- 
 lieve, to reflect on the inspection of urine, which 
 made a considerable part of pra6tical physick in that 
 time ; yet I do not well see the meaning of mock-wa- 
 ter. Johnson. 
 
 Perhaps
 
 ABU, MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 71 
 
 Perhaps by mock-water is meant — counterfeit. The 
 water of a gem is a technical term. So in Timon^ a61: i, 
 sc. i. 
 
 << here is a water, look you." 
 
 Mock-water may therefore signify a Mzw^ of a counterfeit 
 lustre. To 7k<?C)4, however, in Antony and Cleopatra, un- 
 doubtedly signifies to play with. Shakspere may there- 
 fore chuse to represent Caius as one to whom a urinal 
 was a play-thing. 
 
 Dr. Farmer proposes to read muck-water, i. e. the 
 drain of a dunghill. Steevens. 
 
 626. In old editions, 
 ' / will bring thee where Anne Page is, at a farm- 
 house a feasting ; and thou shalt woo her : cry'd game, 
 said I well?] We yet say, in colloquial language, that 
 
 such a one is game or game to the hack. Cry''d 
 
 game might mean — a profess'' d buck, one who as was well 
 known by the report of his gallantry, as he could 
 
 have been by proclamation. Thus, in Troilus and 
 Cressida : 
 
 " On whose bright crest, fame, with her loud'&t 
 «♦ O yes, 
 
 " Cries, this is he." 
 Again, in All's well that ends well, a(rt ii. 
 
 " find what you seek, 
 
 *' That fame may cry you loud.'''' 
 Again, in Ford's Lovefs Melancholy, 1629: 
 
 " A gull, an arrant gull by proclamation.'''' 
 Again, in King Lear : 
 
 " »^ -^A proclaimed prize." 
 
 Acain,
 
 78 ANNOTATIONS UPOIf AclIlL 
 
 Again, in Troilus and Crcssida : 
 
 " Thou Rvt proclaim' d a. fool, I think." 
 Cock of the game is found in Warner's Albion'' s England, 
 1602, b. xii. c. 74. "This cocke of game ^ and (as 
 might seem) this hen of the same f ether.''' Again, in 
 the Martial Maid^ by Beaumont and Fletcher : 
 
 ** On craven chicken of a cock 0' tli' game.'"' 
 And in many otiier places. Steevens. 
 
 ACT III, 
 
 Line ^. xHE Pitty-zoaryj ] The old editions 
 
 read, the Pittie-ward, the modern editors the Pitty- 
 wary. There is now no place that ansv/crs to either 
 name at Windsor. The author might possibly have 
 written the City-wardy i. e. towards London. Petty- 
 ward might, however, signify some small district in 
 the town which is now forgotten. Steevens. 
 
 16. By shallow rivers, &c.] Tliis is part of a 
 beautiful little poem of the author's ; which poem, 
 and the answer to it, the reader will not be displeased 
 to find here. 
 
 The Passionate Shepherd to his Love. 
 COME live with me, and be my love, 
 And we will all the pleasures prove 
 That hills and vallies, dale and field, 
 And all tlie craggy mountains yield. 
 
 There
 
 A6ini. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR* "^o 
 
 There will we sit upon the rocks, 
 And see the Shepherds feed their flocks. 
 By shallow rivers, by whose fails 
 Melodious birds sins2r madrigals : 
 There wiH I make thee beds of roses, 
 With a thousand fragrant posies, 
 A cap of flowers, and a kirtle 
 Embroider'd all v.ith leaves of inyrtle; 
 A gown made of the finest wool. 
 Which from our pretty lambs we pull ; 
 Fair lined slippers for the cold, 
 With buckles of the purest gold : 
 A belt of straw, and ivy buds. 
 With coral clasps, and amber studs-: 
 And if these pleasures may thee move, 
 Come live with me, and be my love.. 
 Thy silver dishes for thy meat, 
 As precious as the gods do eat^ 
 Shall on an ivory table be 
 Prepar'd each day for thee and me. 
 The shepherd swains shall dance and sing, 
 For thy delight each May mornin.g : 
 If these delights thy mind may move*, 
 Then hve with me, and be my love. 
 
 * The conclusion of this and the fr-lLowin t poem, seems to havs 
 furnished Milton with the hint for the las: Lnes both of hij 
 Allegn and Fen serosa, S T E E v E N s» 
 
 Tk
 
 ANNOTATIONS UPON Ad IlL 
 
 The Nymph" s Reply to the Shepherd. ' 
 I F that the world and love were young, 
 
 And truth in every shepherd's tongue, 
 
 These pretty pleasures might me move 
 
 To live with thee and be thy love. 
 
 But time drives flocks from field to fold. 
 
 When rivers rage, and rocks grow cold, 
 
 And Philomel becometh dumb, 
 
 And all complain of cares to come : 
 The flowers do fade, and wanton fields 
 To wayward winter reckoning yields : 
 A honey tongue, a heart of gall. 
 Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall. 
 Tliy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses, 
 Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies, 
 Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten. 
 In folly ripe, in reason rotten. 
 Thy belt of straw, and ivy buds, 
 Thy coral clasps, and amber studs ; 
 All these in me no means can move 
 To come to thee, and be thy love-. 
 What should v/e talk of dainties then, 
 Of better meat than's fit for men ? 
 These are but vain : tluit's only good 
 Which God hath bless'd, and sent for food. 
 But could youth last, and love still breed. 
 Had joys no date, and age no need ; 
 Then these delights my mind might move 
 To live with thee, and be thy love. 
 
 The^c
 
 JlI ill. M E R R Y V\- 1 \' E S O P W I N D S O R . 7 •) 
 
 These two poems, which Dr. Warburton gives to 
 Shakspere, are, by writers nearer that time, disposed 
 -!)t", one to Marlow, the other to Raleigh. They are 
 read in ditTerent copies with great variations. 
 
 Johnson. 
 
 In England^s Helicon^ a colleClion of love-versei 
 printed in Shakspere's lite-time, viz. in 1600, the first 
 of them is ^iven to Marlow, the second to a person 
 unknown : and Dr. Piercy, in the first volume of his 
 RcUques of Ancient English Pcctry, observes, that there 
 is good reason to believe that (not Shakspere, but) 
 Christopher Mariow wrote the song, and sir Walter 
 Raleigh the Nymp^i's Reply, for so we are positively as- 
 •sured by Isaac Walton, a writer of some credit, wh.o 
 has inserted them both in his Complcat Angler^ imder 
 the characler of " That sniooth song which was m.ads 
 bv Kit Marlow^ nov/ at least fifrv vears airo : and an 
 Answer to it, which was made bv sir Walter Raleijrh 
 
 in his younger days Old fashioned poetry^ but 
 
 choicely good." See the Riiiques^ &c. vol. I. p. <ii!^. 
 '22 1, third edit. 
 
 in Shakspere's sonnets, printed by Jaggard, 1.399, 
 
 this poem is attributed to Shakspere. Mr. Malone, 
 
 however, observes, that, " Wliat seems to ascertain 
 
 it to be Marlowe's, is, that one of the lines is found 
 
 (and not as a quotation) in a play of his — T/ie Jew cf 
 
 Malta; which, though, not printed till 1633, must 
 
 have been written before 1593, as he died in that year. ' 
 
 " Thou in those groves, by Dis above, 
 
 ** ^halt live with tnc, and hewy Icve.''^ Stee vens. 
 
 G ij ' The
 
 76 ANNOTATIONS UPON A& III. 
 
 The tune to which the former was sung, I have 
 lately discovered in a MS. as old as Shakspere's time, 
 aud it is as follows : 
 
 -O. 
 
 :^=#r?=:^t^^ 
 
 3±E 
 
 Come live wiih me, and be my 
 
 
 love, and we \\\\\ all the plca-sures prove 
 
 pg^^g 
 
 that hills and val - lies, dale and iield, and 
 
 i^^^ 
 
 '&~Cs-- 
 
 "^ all the crag-gy moun-tains yield. 
 
 Sir J. Hawkins. 
 
 23. When as I satin Babylon ] This line is from 
 
 the old version of the 137th psalm: 
 " JVhen we did sit in Babylon, 
 *' The rivers round about, 
 <' Then in remembrance for Sion, 
 " The tears for grief burst out." 
 The word rivers, in the second line, may be sup- 
 posed to Iiave been bro.ight to sir Hugh's thoughts by 
 
 the
 
 Acl III. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. . JJ 
 
 the line of Marlowe's Madrigal, that he lias just re- 
 peated ; and in his fright he blends the sacred and 
 
 prophane song togetlier. The old quarto has 
 
 *•* There liv'd a man in Babylon,''' which was the 
 
 tirst line of an old song, mentioned in Twelfth Night : 
 but the other line is more in character. Ma lone. 
 
 84. -for missing your jtieetings and appointments.'] 
 
 These words, which are not in the folio, were re- 
 covered from the early quarto, by Mr. Pope. 
 
 Malone. 
 
 T}i. Ptaccj I savy Gallia and Gaul, French and 
 't'c/'c/,, ] Possibly Gallia and Guallia. FARMER. 
 
 Thus, in A'. Henry IV. Gualtier for Walter. 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 The quarto, 1602, confirms Dr. Farmer's conjec- 
 ture. It reads Peace I say, Gawle and Gawlia^ 
 
 French and Welch, &c. Malone. 
 
 110. make-a de sot of us r] i^ot in French, 
 
 signifies flyoo/. Malone. 
 
 114, scald, scnrvy,'] Scall was an old word 
 
 of reproach, as scab was afterwards. Chaucer impre- 
 cates on his scrivener : 
 
 " Under thy longe lockes mayest thou have the 
 scalkr Johnson. 
 
 S>call, as Dr. Johnson interprets it, is a scab break- 
 ing out in the hair, and approaching nearly to the le- 
 prosy. It is used by other writers .of Shakspere's 
 time. You will find what was to be done by persons 
 afflicted with it by looking into Leviticus, ch. xiii. 
 30, 31, cl'c. Whalley. 
 
 Giij ib':^'
 
 7^ ANNOTATIONS UPON A81 HI. 
 
 159. SO seeming mistress Page, ] seeming is 
 
 specious. So, in K. Lear^ 
 
 ** If aught within that little sfevmig substance." 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 162. sYirW ay aim.'] i. e. shall encourage. The 
 
 phrase is taken from archery. See a note in A'. Jo///>^ 
 a(5t ii. Steevens. 
 
 174. JVe have linger' d ] They have not linger'd 
 
 very long. The match was proposed by sir Hugh but 
 the day before. Johnson. 
 
 Shalloio represents tlic affair as having been long in 
 handf that he may better excuse himself and Slender 
 from accepting Ford's invitation on the day when it 
 was to be conchided. Steevens. 
 
 18.1. he writes verses^ he speaks holy-day, ] 
 
 i. e. in an h^gh-fiown, fustian style. It was called a 
 holy-day sfyle, from the old custom of acting their 
 farces of the mysteries and moralities^ which \\ere tur- 
 gid and bombast, on holy-days. So, in Mui/: ado about 
 Nothingy 
 
 *' 1 cannot woo in festival terms.'''' 
 And again, in The Merchant of Vetnccy 
 
 *' Thou spend'st sucJi high-day zvit in praising 
 liim." Warburion. 
 
 lie speaks holy-dax, ] So, in A'. Henry IF. 
 
 Part I. 
 
 *' With many holiday and lady terms." 
 
 Steevens. 
 186. ' 'tis in his buttons ;] Alluding to an an- 
 cient custom anion;; the countiy fellows, of trying 
 
 whvLh«f
 
 AclIIf. MC?.P-r WIVES OF WINDSOR. 79 
 
 wliether they should succeed with their mistresses, bv 
 carrying the batr/>elor''s buttons (a plant of the Lychnis 
 kind, whose flowers resemble a coat button in forrri) 
 in their pockets. And they judged of their good or 
 bad success by their growing, or their not growing 
 tlicre. Smith. 
 
 Green mentions these haichdor's buttons in Iiis Quip 
 
 for an upsiart Courtier:- " I saw the batc/iilor's- 
 
 buttons^ whose virtue is to make wanton maidens weep, 
 wlien they have worne thera forty weeks under tlieir 
 aprons," &^c. 
 
 The same expression occurs in Heywood's Fair Maid 
 of the West, 160,1 : 
 
 "He wears batchdor'' s bidtor.s, does lie not :" 
 Again, ia The Contant Maidy by Shirley, 1640; 
 
 ■■' I am a batchdor. 
 
 •* I pray, let me be one of your buttons still tiicn.'" 
 Again, in A Fair Ouarrd, by Middleton and Rowlev, 
 1617: 
 
 ''- ril wear my batchelcf s butiovs still." 
 Again, in A Woman Jiever /'V.vV, comedy by Rowiry, 
 J C02 : 
 
 *' Go, go and rest on ^'enus' violets; shew h( r 
 
 *' A dozen of batcbdor^s buttons , boy." 
 Again, in W.istntird H-je^ i6o6 : *' Heie's my husband-, 
 *ind no batchdor^ s buitca:^ are at ills doublet." 
 
 Steevf.vs. 
 
 Vv hat can Mr. SmitJi mean by tiic ^.ovc^xij gro-^iKg 
 
 \i\ tiie poci<Cic^ of tho^e who carry th.em ? *• * *
 
 '^0 ANIx'OTATIONS UPON Acllll. 
 
 189. (if vo having : ] Having Is the same 
 
 .15 estate ox: fciTtuiic. Johnson. 
 
 So, in Macbeth^ 
 
 " OF noble havings and of royal hope." 
 Again, Twclft Night, 
 
 <' My having is not much, 
 
 " I'll make division of my present store, 
 " Hold, there is half my coffer.'" Steevens. 
 204. Host. Farewel, my hearts: I will, to my honest 
 blight Faistafj and drink axvay canary with him. 
 
 Ford. [Aside.] I thinky I shall drink in PiPE-rW//<? 
 
 jlrst with him : Vll make him dance. ] To drink in 
 
 pipe-wine is a phrase wliich I cannot imderstand. May 
 we not suppose that Shakspere rather wj-ote, I think I 
 shall drink horn -pipe xvine first with him : Vll make him 
 dance > 
 
 Canary is the name of a dance, as well as of a zuinc. 
 Ford lays hold of both senses; but, for an obvious 
 reason, makes the dance a horn-pipe. It has been al- 
 ready remarked, that Shakspere has frequent allusions 
 to a cuckold's horns. Tyrvvhitt. 
 
 Pipe is known to be a vessel of wine, now contain- 
 ing two hogsheads. Pipe-wmc is therefore wine, not 
 from the bottky but the pipe ; and the jest consists in 
 the ambiguity of the word, which signifies both a cask 
 'vtf wine, and a musical instrument. Johnson. 
 
 The phrase, — " to drink in pipe- wine" — always ap- 
 peared to me a very strange one, till I met with the 
 following passage in King James's first speech to his 
 p:>rliament, in 1604; by wliich it appears that "to 
 
 drink
 
 Aci HI. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 8l 
 
 drink iii" was the phraseology of the time : '' — who 
 either being old have retained their first drunken-z« 
 liqvior upon a certain shame-facedness," &-c. 
 
 Malone. 
 
 Z\\d. Hozv nozi', 77;^' eyas-musket ? ] Eyas is a 
 
 young unHedgM hawk; I suppose from the Itahan 
 XiasOy which originally signified any young bird taken 
 from the nestunfiedg'd, afterv/ards a young hawk. The 
 French, from hence, took their niais, and used it in botli 
 tiiose S'gnificatians ; to which they added a third, me- 
 taphorically a silly fdloxju\ un gar gov fort viais^ vn niais. 
 Musket signifies a sparrow hawky or the smallest species 
 cf hawks. This too is from the Italian Musc/ictto^ a small 
 hawk, as appears from the original signification of the 
 word, namely, a troiiblescme stinging Jly. So that the 
 hun^.our of calling the little page an eyas-vmskct\^\tYy 
 intelligible. Wak. burton. 
 
 So, in Greene's C<2r(:/(//'tf;?n', 1608: " — no hawk 
 so iiaggard but will stoop to the lure : no niesse so ra- 
 mage but will be reclaimed to the lunes." Eyas-vivsket 
 is the saHie as ivfavt Lilliputian. Again, in Spenser's 
 
 Facr~y Oliren, b. i. C. 
 
 " youthful gay 
 
 " Like eyas-kauke, up m.ounts into the skies, 
 "His newly budded pinions to essay." 
 In the Booke cf Haukyrig^ Sec. commonly called th.e 
 Bojh of St. Albansy bl. I. no date, is the following de- 
 rivation of the word ; but whetlicr true or erroneous, 
 is not for mc to determine : " An hauk is called an 
 (\cs!>e from l:cr c)r,e. For an hauke that is brought up 
 
 under
 
 ^'-2 ANNOTATIONS UPON At l III. 
 
 under a bussarde or piittock, as many ben, have watry 
 nr?z/' &c. Stkeveng. 
 
 234. Jack-a-laity ] A Jack 0" lent was a 
 
 puppet thrown at in Lent, like shrove-cocks. So, in 
 The IVeakcst goes to the Wall, 1618: 
 
 *' A mere anatomy, a Jack of Lent."'' 
 Again, in the Four Prentices of London y 1632 : 
 
 " Now you old Jack of L.cnt, six weeks and up- 
 wards." 
 
 Again, in Greene's Tu Ouoque, 1599 : << for if a 
 
 boy, tiiat is throwing at his Jack 0" Lent, chance to liit 
 iiie on the shins, (Src." See a note on the last scene 
 o f t'n i s corned y . S t i: e v e k s . 
 
 249- fiom /^)'.v.] So, in Cymbcliyie, 
 
 " somej<7)' of Italy, 
 
 ** Wliose motlier was her painting," &c. 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 S50. Have I caught thcc, my heavenly jewel?'] Tliis is 
 
 the -first line of the second song in Sidney's Astrophel 
 
 and Stella . T o l i, e t . 
 
 251. Why, new let me die ; for I have lived long 
 
 enough ; ] This sentiment, which is of sacred 
 
 origin, is here indecently introduced. It appears again, 
 with somewhat less of profaneness, in tlie Winter's 
 Tale, act iv. and in Othello, a6t ii. Steevens. 
 
 262. arched bent ] Thus the quartos 1602, 
 
 and 1619. The folio reads arched beauty. 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 263. that hecovits the ship-tire, the tire-vw.i- 
 
 akt, or any Venetian attire.] Tlie old quarto reads, 
 
 tire-
 
 Aci in. MERRY VVJLVES OF WINDSOR. '6^ 
 
 tu-e-vdlct, and the old folio reads, or any tire of Venetian, 
 admittance. So that the true reading of the whole is 
 this, that becomes the ship-tire^ the ^/V^-valiant, or any 
 lire of Venetian admittance. The speaker tells his mis- 
 tress, slie had a face that would become all the head- 
 dresses in fashion. The ship -tire was an open head- 
 dress, with a kind of scarf depending from behind, 
 its name of ship-tire was, I presume, from its giving 
 the wearer some resemblance of a ship (as Shakspere 
 says; in all her trim: with all her pennants out, and 
 tlags and streamers flying. Thus Milton, in Satfisou 
 AgonisteSy paints Dalila : 
 
 " But who is this, that thing of sea or land ? 
 
 " Female of sex it seems, 
 
 ** That so bedeck'd, ornate and gay, 
 
 " Comes this way sailing 
 
 *' Like a stately ship 
 
 " Of Tarsus, bound for the isles 
 
 *' Of Javan or Gadier, 
 
 *' With all her bravery on, and tackle trim, 
 
 *' Sails fiU'd, and streamers waving, 
 
 ** Courted by all the winds that hold them play.'" 
 This was an image familiar with the poets of that time. 
 Thus Beaumont and Fletcher, in their play of Wit 
 
 ZL'ithmd Money : *' She spreads sattens as the king's 
 
 ships do canvas every where, slie may space Jier 
 misen," &c. This will direct us to reform the follow- 
 ing word of tire-valianty which I suspect to be cor- 
 rupt, valiant being a very incongruous epithet for a 
 wnman's head-dress: 1 suppose Shakspere wrote tiye- 
 
 zailant.
 
 ^4 ANNOTATIONS UPON ASi IIL 
 
 vailant. As the ship-tire was an open hcatl-dress, i»(> 
 the /;/rf vailant was a c/cif one ; in whicli the head 
 and breast were covered as with a vdL And these 
 were, in fa6t, the two diiferent liead-drcsses then 
 in fashion, as we may see by the pictures of tliat time : 
 One of which was so open, that the whole neck, 
 breasts, and shoulders, were opened to view ; the 
 otiier, so securely inclosed in kerchiefs, &c. that no- 
 thing could be seen above the eyes, or below the cliln. 
 
 Warrurton. 
 or any Venetian attire.] Tliis is a wrong read- 
 ing, as appears from the impropriety of the word at- 
 //re here used for a woman's head-dress : wherea.s it 
 signifies the dress of any part. We should read, 
 therefore, or any tire of J'enetian admittance. T'or the 
 word attire, reduced by the aphxresis, to 'tire, takes 
 a new signification, and means only the head-dress. 
 Hence tire-woman, for a dresser of tlie head.' As to 
 the meaning of the latter part of the sentence this 
 may be seen by a paraplirase of the whole s-peech. — 
 Your face is so good, says the speaker, that it would 
 become any head-dress worn at court, either the open 
 or the close, or indeed any rich and fashionable one 
 worth adorning v/ith Venetian point, or zvhich zvill ad- 
 viit to be adorned. [Of )''enetian admittance.] The 
 fashionable lace^ at that time was Venetian point. 
 
 Vv^ARBURTOX. 
 
 Tliis note is plausible, except in the explanation 
 
 o^ Venetian admittance : but 1 am afraid this whole sys- 
 
 tcmof dress is unsupported by evidence. Johnson. 
 
 4 '/
 
 Aci III. MERRY WIVES OF V/INDSOR. 8.5 
 
 of Vtnttian admit tance. ~\ i. e. of a fashion re- 
 ceived from Venice. So, in IVestzoard Hocj 1606, 
 by Decker and Webster : *' — noAv she's in that Ita- 
 lian head-tire you sent her." Dr. Fanner proposes 
 to read — •** of Venetian remittance." Dr. Warbur- 
 ton might have found the same reading in the quarto, 
 )63o. Instead oi tire-valiant, I would read tire^ 
 volant. Stubbs, whio describes most minutely every 
 article of female-dress, has mentioned none of these 
 terms, but speaks of vails depending from the top of 
 the head, and flying behind in loose folds. The 
 word volant v;-dL% in use.before the age of Shakspere. 
 I find i^in Wilfride Holmes s Fall and evil Successe of 
 Rebellion, 1537 • 
 
 '< high volant in any thing divine." 
 
 Tire vellet, in the old 4to, may be printed, as Mr. 
 Toilet observes, by mistake, for tire-velvet. We 
 know that velvet. hoods were worn in the age of Shak- 
 spere. Steevens. 
 
 Among the presents sentr by the Queen of Spain to 
 the Queen of England, in April 1606, was a velvet 
 cap with gold buttons. Ma lone. 
 
 267. a traitor ] i. e. to tliy own merit. 
 
 Steevens, 
 
 The folio reads : thcu art a tyrant to say so. 
 
 Malone. 
 271. fortune thyfoc.'\ " Was the beginning of an 
 old ballad, in which were enumerated all the 
 misfortunes that fall upon mankind, through the ca- 
 price of fortune." See note on The Custcm cf th: 
 H Ccu,try,
 
 ?6 ANNOTA TI():-:'5 l-FON Ad HI. 
 
 Country^ A 1. S 1. by Mr. 1 Jicobald, who observes, 
 tiiat this ballad is mentioned again in a cuniedy by 
 Jolin Tatham, printed i66o, called The Ruvipy or 
 Mirror of the Timcs^ wherein a j'rcnchman is intro- 
 duced at the bonfire niade for the bnrninc: of the 
 rumps, and catching hold of Priscilla, wili oblige her 
 to dance, and orders the music to ]^lay Fcrtunc v^y 
 Foe. See also Lwp/a, Vol. V. Dodsley's colle^^lion 
 of Old Plays, p. i88; and Tom Essence, 1667, p. 37. 
 
 Ru.D. 
 
 This tune is the identical air now kr^own by the 
 song of Death and the Lady^ to ■\vliich the nietrical 
 lamentations of extraordinary criminals have been 
 usually clianted for upwards of these two hundred 
 years. Remarks. 
 
 The first and second folio read : — / set zrhat thou 
 xj'.ert if Fortune thy fee were not Nature thy friend. 
 The passage is not in the early quarto. 
 
 like Bvchlers-bury^ Szc."] Bucklers -bury ^ in the 
 
 time of Shakspere, was chiefly inhabited by druggists, 
 who sold all kind of herbs, green as well as dry. 
 
 Steevems. 
 
 So, in Decker's Wcstzvard Hce, a comedy, 1607 : 
 *' Go into Bvckkrs-bury^ and fetch me two ounces of 
 preserved melounes, look there be no tobacco taken in 
 the shop when he weighs it." Again, in the same 
 play : *' Run into Bucklers-bury ^ and fetch me two 
 oi.nces oi dragon-water, some spermaceti, and treacle."^ 
 
 Malone. 
 
 317. sp€2k louder ] i. e. tliat Falstaff who 
 
 is
 
 ASi III. MERRY V.IVES OF WINDSOR. 87 
 
 is retired may hear. Tliis passage is only found in 
 the two elder quartos. Ste events. 
 
 346. I love thee — and no7ie but thee;'] The words 
 printed in italicks, v.'hich are charasfterisrick, and 
 spoken asile, deserve to be resvored from the old quar- 
 to. Ke had used the same words before to Mrs. Ford. 
 
 Ma I. ONE. 
 
 352. how you druvufic : ] The reverend 
 
 Mr. Lamb, the editor of the antient metrical history 
 oi i\\Q Battle of Floddciij observes that — lock hero xcii 
 drumble, means — how confused ycv. are ; and that in tlie 
 North, driimhled a'e is muddy-, disturbed ak. Thus, a 
 Scottish proverb in Ray's collection : 
 
 *' It is good tisiung in drumblin^ v.a'ers." 
 Again, \n Hate zcith you to Sajfron JValdcn, or Gabriel 
 Harvey's hunt is vp, this word occurs : " — gray-beard 
 drumbiing over a discourse." Again : " — your rly 
 in a box is but a drmiiblc-hcQ in comparison of it." 
 Again : ' ' — this drumbiing course. " S t e e v e n ? . 
 
 To drunwle, in Devonsh.ire, signifies to mutter in a 
 sullen and inarticulate voice. No other sense of the 
 word will either explain tliis interrogation, or the 
 passages adduced in Mr. Srcivens's note. 7T' drwuhle 
 and dr^nc arc often used in connexion. HtN i.sy. 
 
 A druvahie dionf, signifies a drone or hum.ble-bee. 
 
 Maloxe. 
 
 563. and cf the season too it i/.i// appear.] \ 
 
 WQuld p»>ij5t diiierentlv. 
 
 And of the season too; -it shall appear. 
 
 Ferd sr-ejl)S to allude to the cuckold's horns. So 
 ii ij aftfe-rv. ardi :
 
 ^ B A N N O T A T I O N S V P O N" ykl lit. 
 
 tiftcnvards : " And so biificts himself on the fore- 
 head, cryint;, j&£(?r ont, ptrr out." Malone. 
 
 I am satisfied with the old pim6luation. In' the 
 Rape cf Lua-cce, our poet makes his heroine compare 
 herself to an " unseasonable doe;'''' and, in Blunt's 
 C?isto?}is cf Manors, p. 168, is the same phrase em- 
 ployed by Ford : — '* A bukke delivered him of 
 seyssone, by tiie woodmaster and keepers of Need- 
 woode." Steevens. 
 
 368. So ?iow unc(!pc.'\ So tlie folio of 1623 
 
 reads, and ri<;litly. It is a tenn in fox-hunting, 
 which signifies to dig out the 'iox when earthed. 
 
 Warbuhton. 
 
 The allusio!! in the foregoing sentence is to the 
 stopping every hole at which a fox could enter, be- 
 fore they uncape or turn him our of the bag in which 
 he was brought. I suppose every one has heard of a 
 ba;r.fQx. Steevens. 
 
 440. ■ .In your teeth : ] This dirty restora- 
 tion was made by Mr. Theobald. Evans's applica* 
 tion of the dodior's words is not in the folio. 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 460. -fathers wealth'] Some light may be given 
 
 to those who shall endeavour to calculate the increase 
 of Enghsh wealth, by observing, that Latymer, in 
 the time of Edward VI. mentions it as a proof ot 
 his father's prosperity. That though but a yeoman^ he 
 ftave his daughters fve pounds each for her portion. At 
 the latter end of Elizabeth, seven hundred pounds 
 were such a temptation to courtship, as made all 
 
 other
 
 Act HI. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. So 
 
 Other motives suspected. Congreve makes twelve 
 thousand pounds more than a counterbalance to the 
 afte6lation of Belinda. No poet would now fly his 
 favourite chara6ler at less than fifty thousand. 
 
 Johnson. 
 
 468. If opportunity and humblest suit\ Dr. Thirlbv 
 imagines, that our author with more propriety wrote. 
 
 If importunity and humblest svit. 
 I have not ventur'd to disturb tlie text, because it 
 may mean, " If the frequent opportunities you find of 
 soUiciting my father, and your obsequiousness to him, 
 cannot get him over to your party," &zc, Theobald. 
 
 472. r II make a shaft or boh on'' t .'"^ To make a holt 
 cr a shaft of a thing is enumerated by Ray^ in his col- 
 lection of proverbial phrases. Reed. 
 
 494. come cut and long tail, .] i. e. come 
 
 poory or richj to offer himself as my rival. The fol- 
 lowing is the origin of the phrase. According to the 
 forest laws, the dog of a man, who had no ri^ht to 
 the privilege of chace, was obliged to cut, or lazv his 
 dog, among other modes of disabling him, by de- 
 priving him of his tail. A dog so cut was called a cuty 
 or curt-taily and by contra61:ion cur. Cut and long tail 
 therefore signified the dog of a clown, and the dog of 
 a gentleman. 
 
 Again, in The first Part of the Eighth libtral Science^ 
 entitulcd Ars Adulandi, &c. devised and cojfipiled by 
 Ulpian Fulwell, 1576: — "yea, even their very dogs. 
 Rug, Rig, and Risbie, yea, cut ojid long taile, they 
 shall be welcome." Steevf.ns. 
 11 iij come
 
 50 - ANNOTATIONS UPO-K. Acllll. 
 
 ' come cnt and long tail,' — .] I can see no meaning 
 
 in this phrase. Slender promises to make his mistress 
 n gentlewoman, and probably means to say, he will 
 deck her in a gown of tlie court-cut, and with a loyig 
 train or tail. In the comedy of Eastward Hoe, is 
 this passage : " The one must be ladyfied forsootli, 
 and be attired just to the court cut endlong tayle\" 
 which seems to justify our reading — Court cwt. and long 
 tail. Sir J. Hawkins. 
 
 Cojue cut and long-tail, — ] This phrase is often 
 
 found in old plays, and seldom, if ever, with any 
 variation. The change therefore proposed by Sir 
 John Hawkins cannot be received without great vio- 
 lence to the text. Whenever the words occur, they 
 always bear the same meaning, and that meaning is 
 obvious enougli without any explanation. The origin 
 CI the phrase may however admit of some dispute, 
 and it is by no means certain that the account of it, . 
 here adopted by iMr. Steevens from Doftor Johnson, 
 is well found^ed. That there ever existed such a mode 
 ot disqualifying dogs by the laws of the forest as is 
 here asserted, cannot be acknowledged without evi- 
 dence, and no authority is quoted to prove that such 
 a custom at any time prevailed. The writers on this 
 subject are totally silent as far as they have come to 
 my knowledge. Manhood who wrote on the Forest 
 Laws before they were entirely disused, mentions 
 expeditation or cutting off three claws of the fore-foot, 
 as the only manner of lawing dogs ; and with his ac- 
 count the Charter of the Forest seems to agree. Were 
 
 I to
 
 Acl III. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. ^f 
 
 I to offer n conjecture, I should suppose that the 
 phrase originally referred to horses, which might be 
 denominated a/t and lon/r-taily as they were curtailed 
 of this part of their body, or allowed to enjoy its full 
 growth ; and this might be practised according to the 
 difference of their value, or the uses to vvhich they 
 were put. In this view, cut and long -tail would include 
 the whole species of horses good and bad. In sup- 
 port of this opinion it may be added, that formerly 
 a cut was a word of reproach in vulgar colloquial 
 abuse, and I believe is never to be found applied to 
 horses but to those of the worst kind. After all, i 
 any authority can be produced to countenance Dr 
 Johnson's explanation, I shall be very ready to re- 
 tract every thing that is here said. See also note on . 
 ' the Match at Midnight. Dodsley's Colleftion of Old 
 Plays, Vol. VII. p. 424. Edit. 1780. Reed. 
 
 The last conversation I had the honour to enjoy with 
 Sir William Elackstone was on this subject } and by a 
 series of accurate references to the whole collection of 
 ancient Forest LawSj lie convinced me of our repeated 
 error, expeditation and geiiuscissioji^ being the only 
 established and technical modes ever used for dis- 
 abling the canine species. Part of the tails of spaniels 
 indeed are generally cut off ( ornavienti gratia) v, hils 
 they are puppies, so that (admitting a loose descrip- 
 tion) every kind of dog is comprehended in the 
 phrase of cut and long-tailj and every rank of people 
 in the same expression, if metaphorically used. 
 
 Steevens.
 
 9-S AN'XOTATIONS UPO^J A^ III. 
 
 513- happy man be his dole! ] a prover- 
 bial expression. See Ray's colleclion, p. 116. edit. 
 1737. Stefvens. 
 
 536. Anne. Alas, I had rather be srt quick i' the 
 earthy 
 And bezel'' d to death rcith turnips. '\ Can 
 ne think tlic speaker would thus ridicule her own ini- 
 precaiion ? Vve may be sure the last line should be 
 given to tlie prociiress, C^nickly, ^^ho would mock the 
 young woman's aversion for her master the do6lor. 
 
 Warbuiiton. 
 
 ■ he set quick P the earth, 
 
 And bonded to death with turnips.'] This is a 
 common proverb in the southern counties. I find al- 
 most the same expression in Ben Johnson's Bartholo- 
 mczu Fair : ** Would I had been set in the ground, ?X\ 
 but the head of me, and had my brains bowVd at.'^ 
 
 Collins. 
 
 .547- -fool and a physician?] I should readyto/ 
 
 or a physician, meaning Slender and Cains. 
 
 JOflNSON. 
 
 Sir Tho. Hannicr reads according to Dr. Johnson's 
 conjecture. This may be right. — Or my Dan:e 
 Quickly may allude to tlie proverb, a man o^ forty is 
 either hl/coI or a physician ; but slie a- serts her master 
 to be both. Farmer. 
 
 Mr. Dennis, of irascible memory, who altered this 
 play, and brought it on the stage, in tlie year 3 7c:>, 
 under the title of The Comical Gallant, (when, tlianks 
 to the ulrert r, it was fairly damn'd) luis iutroduced 
 
 the
 
 AH in. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 9,3 
 
 the proverb at which Mrs. Qu^ickly's allusion appears 
 to be pointed. Steeveks. 
 
 once to-night ] i. e. somdime to-night. So 
 
 in a letter from the sixth earl of Northumberland 
 fquoted in the notes on the household book of the 
 
 fifth earl of that name) ; '' nx)twithstanding I trust. 
 
 to be able ons to set up a chapell off mine ovvne." 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 557. speciously ] She means to say speci- 
 ally. Steevens. 
 
 569. In former copies : — as they would Imve dr 0x011" d 
 a blind hxtcWi puppies, ]I have ventured to trans- 
 pose the adjeClive here, against the authority of the 
 printed copies. I know, in horses, a colt from a blind 
 stallion loses much of the value it might otherwise 
 have ; but are puppies ever drown'd the sooner, for 
 coming from a blind bitch .^The author certainly wrote, 
 as they would have drown'd a blinds, bitclCs puppies. 
 
 Theobald. 
 
 The transposition may be justified from the follow- 
 ing passage in the Tzuo Gentlemen of Verona: " one 
 
 that I saved from drowning, when three or four of 
 his blindhxQXk\tx'=> and sisters went to it." Steevens. 
 
 644. Yea, a buck basket ] The old quarto 
 
 has, By the lord, a buck-basket, which surely 
 
 ought to be restored. The editor of the first folio, 
 to avoid the penalty of the statute of King James I. 
 
 reads Yea Sec. and the editor of the second, 
 
 v/hich has been followed by the moderns, has made 
 Falstaff desert his own character, and assume the 
 language of a Puritan Ma lone. 
 
 662.
 
 P4 ANNOTATIONS UPON. AB III. 
 
 662. several deaths :'] Thus the folio and the 
 
 most corredt of the quartos. The first quarto reads 
 
 egregious deaths . S T E F. v E N s . 
 
 663. detected with ] Thus the old copies. 
 
 With was sometimes used for of. So, a little after, 
 
 " I sooner will suspect the sun unih cold." 
 Detected (T/'a jealous, &:c.] wo'.ild have been the 
 common grammar of the times. The modern edi- 
 tors read by. Stf.f.vf.ns. 
 
 665. bilbo.^ ] A bilbo is a Spanisli blade, of 
 
 which the excellence is Piexibleness and elasticity. 
 
 Johnson. 
 
 bilbo^ from Bilboa., a city of Biscay, where the 
 
 best blades are made. Steevens. 
 
 669. kidney. ] Kidney in tliis phrase novv 
 
 signifies ^/«<^ or qualiiies., but FalstaiT means, a vian 
 whose kidnies are as fat as mine. Johnson*. 
 
 686. address me ] i. e. make myself 
 
 ready. So in K. Henry V. 
 
 *' To-morrow for our march 've are add rest."" 
 
 Steevlns. 
 
 70.5. J"" II he horn -mod. ~\ There is no iniagc 
 
 which our author appears so fond of, as that of cuck- 
 old's horns. Scarcely a light character is introduced 
 that docs not endeavour to produce merriment by 
 some allusion to horned husbands. As he wrote his 
 plays for the stage rather than tiie press, he perhaps 
 reviewed them seldom, and did not observe this re- 
 petition ; or finding the jest, however frequent still 
 succcssfuU, did not think correction necessary. 
 
 Johnson. 
 Tliis
 
 Atl IV. MERP.Y WIVES OF WINDSOR. 55 
 
 This is a very trifling scene, of no use to the plot, 
 ?.nd 1 should think of no great delight to the au- 
 dience ; but Shakspere best knew what would please. 
 
 Johnson. 
 
 We iTiay suppose tliis scene to have been a very en- 
 tertaining one to the audience for which it was 
 written. Many of the old plays exhibit pedants in- 
 structing their scholars. Marston has a very long 
 one in his What you zvill^ between a schoolmaster, and 
 Hclofcrncs Nathaniel^ Sec. liis pupils. The title of 
 this play was perhaps borrowed by Shakspere, to join 
 to that of Tu'e/J'fk Nigkt. What ycu JFz// appeared in 
 1607. Tzvel/th N{ghf, m 162;^. Steevens. 
 
 ACT IF. 
 
 Line ^-j. I'lGRUM, harnm, horum.'] Taylor, tlie 
 
 v\ater-poet, has borrowed this jest, such as it is, in hii 
 tharadler of a strumpet : 
 
 '* And come to horum harum whontmy then 
 *' She proves a great proficient among men." 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 62. to hick and to hack ] Sir William 
 
 Blackstone thought that this, in Dame Quickly's lan- 
 guage, signifies " to stammer or hesitate, as boys do, 
 in saying their leesons ;" but Mr. Steevens, with 
 
 more
 
 gS. ANNOTATIONS UPON. Ad lV> 
 
 more probability, supposes that it signifies, in her dddi- 
 le6l, to do ?nisc/nef. Malone. 
 
 70. you must be preec/tes.] Sir Hugh means 
 
 to say you must be breedidy i. c. flogg'd. To 
 
 breech \s to Jlog. Steevens* 
 
 78. sprag ] I am told that this word is 
 
 still used by the common people in the neighbourhood 
 of Bath, where it signifies read^i^ alert, sprightlyy and 
 is pronounced as if it was written— -5/j7-^c^. Steevens. 
 
 101. luncs J i. e. lunacy, frenzy. See a 
 
 noteoiwht Willi er's Talc. Tlie. quarto i6go, and the 
 folio, read lines, instead of lunes. The elder quartos 
 — his old vaine again. Steevens. 
 
 ici. he so takes on ] To take on, which is 
 
 now used for to grieve, seems to be used by our author 
 for to rage. Perhaps it was applied to any passion. 
 
 Johnson. 
 
 It is likewise used for to rage, by Nashe, in Pierce 
 Pennylesse his supplication, Sec. 1592 : " Some will 
 take on like a madman, if they see a pig come to table." 
 
 Malone. 
 
 105. peer Ota ] Tiiat is, " appear horns. 
 
 Shakspere is at his old lunes. Johnson. 
 
 Ai}d buffets himself on the forehead, crying, peer out, 
 peer out!] Shakspere here refers to the praflice of 
 children, when they call on a snail to push forth his 
 horns : 
 
 " Peer out, prerout, peer out of your hole, 
 <' Or else I beat you black asa coal.'* Henlev. 
 
 13?.
 
 Ad IF. MERRY WIVES OF WIKD50R. 07 
 
 132. But what make ycu hcrQ?^ An obsolete ex- 
 pression for what do you here. Ma l o ^' 1: . 
 
 140. an abstract ] i. c. that is a list, an in- 
 ventory. Steevfns. 
 
 CM ab sir act. — ] i.e. a short note &r descriptioii. 
 
 So, in Hamlet, 
 
 *' The abstracij and brief chronicle of the times.'"' 
 
 Ma LONE. 
 
 156. \\tx tknimh^Xy 2Sid he.r mnjler too \ ' 
 
 Tlie tirrviyi is the end of a weaver's warp, and we mas- 
 suppose, was used for the purpose of making co^tr&e 
 liats. In the Midsummer Nighf s Dream. 
 *' O fates, come, come, 
 " C-jt thread and thnirn:'' ^ 
 Amujptr was some part of dress that covered the 
 face. So, in the Colder^ s Prophecy ^ 1594 : 
 
 <' Now is she bare-fac'd to be seen : strait on 
 
 her Muffler goes."" 
 Again, in Laneham's account of Queen Elizabeth's 
 
 entertainment at Kenehvorth castle, 1575 : '* hii 
 
 mother lent him a nu mufflar for a napkin, iiiat was 
 ty'd to his gyrdl for lozyng." Steevens. 
 
 196. You youth] This is the reading of the old 
 quarto, and in my opinion preferable to that of t}i« 
 folio, which only has " Youth in a basket ! " 
 
 Ma LONE. 
 
 209.. thh passes! ] The force of the phrase 
 
 I did not understand when our former impression of 
 Shakspere was prepared ; and therefore gave these 
 two words as part of an imperfect sentence. One ot 
 the obsolete senses of th;^ verb, to pass, is, io go beyond 
 I bounds
 
 g% ANKOTATIONS UPON AS! If. 
 
 ioujh's. So, in Sir Clyomoriy &c. krdght of the Golden 
 Shield J 1599 : 
 
 *' I have such a deal of substance here \vhen Bri- 
 
 tan's men are shiine, 
 *< That itpassetk. O that I h.ad uhile to stay !" 
 Again, in the translation of tlie MencEchmiy 1595 : 
 *' This passetky that I meet with none, but thus they 
 vexe mc with strange speeches." Steevens. 
 
 232. this zvrongs you. 1 This is below your cha- 
 racter, unworthy of your understanding, injurious to 
 your honour. So, m The Taming of the Shrezj, BiixncSf 
 being ill-treated by her rugged sister, says, 
 
 '' Vou zvrong mo muchy indeed you ct'7-t);?_^ your- 
 self." Johnson. 
 
 S42. his wife's /crzflw. ] Leraany i. e. Inzer j 
 
 is derived from /i?^/', Dutch, beloved^ and ynan. 
 
 St E EVENS. 
 
 254. She zvcrks by charms, &c.l Concerning some 
 oil u.mnan cf Brentford, there are several ballads ; 
 a.iiong the rest, Julian of Brentford^s last. Will and 
 Testament, 1599. St E evens. 
 
 This, without doubt, was the person alluded to : 
 for in the early quarto Mrs. Ford says, " my maid*>s 
 <iunt, Gillian of Brentford, hath a gown above." 
 
 So also, ml'Vestward Hoe, 1607: *' I doubt that old 
 hag, Gillian of Brainford, lias bewitched me," &:r. 
 
 Malonl. 
 
 Mr. Steevens perhaps, has been rnisied by the vague 
 expression of the Stationers. book, lyl of Breyntford's 
 Testament, to which he seems to allude, was written by 
 Robert, and printed by Wiliiain Copland, long before
 
 AB IV. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 99 
 
 1 J99. But this the only publication it is believed con- 
 cerning the above lady at present known, is certainly 
 no ballad. Remarks. 
 
 luUan of Erainford's testament^ is mentioned by 
 Laneham in his letter from Killingwoorth CastU, 
 1,575, amongst many other works of established noto* 
 riety. Henley. 
 
 255. such dauhery ] Dauberies are disguises. 
 
 So, in K. LeaTf Edgar says, 
 
 *' I cannot 6faz//5 it farther." Steevens. 
 
 264. ronycn! ] Ronyov, applied to a wo- 
 man, means, as far as can be traced, much the same 
 with scall or scab spoken of a man. Johnson. 
 
 So, in Macbeth, 
 
 " Aroint thee witch, the rump-fed ronyon cries.'* 
 Tvom Rcgneux, Fr. So, again : ** The ra)/«^.f/^ clown,'* 
 in jis You Like it. Steevens. 
 
 272. a great peard ;'] One of the marks of % 
 
 supposed witch was a beard. 
 
 So, m iht Duhc" s Mistress, 1638; 
 
 " a chin, without all controversy, good 
 
 ** To go a fishing v.ith a witches beard on't." 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 273. / spy a great peard under her mJiffier,'] As the 
 
 second stratagem, by v.hich Falstaff escapes is much 
 the grosser of the two, I wish it had been practised 
 first. It is very unlikely that Ford, having been so 
 deceived before, and knowing that he had been de- 
 ceived, would suffer him to escape in so slight a dis- 
 gi^iise. Johnson. 
 
 276. cry out thus upon no trail ,] The ex- 
 
 I j pressioa
 
 ICO ANNOTATIONS UPON Acl IV. 
 
 pression is taken from the hunters. Trail is the scent 
 left by the passage of the game. To cry outy is to 
 open ox bark. Johnson, 
 
 So, in Hamlii, 
 
 ** How chearfuUy on the false trail ihty cry : 
 " Oh this is counter, ye false Danish dogsV^ 
 
 Steevens. 
 £91. — — in the way of waste j attempt ut again.'] i. e. 
 he will not make further attempts to ruin us, by cor- 
 rupting our virtue, and destroying our reputation. 
 
 Steevens, 
 3C0, no period — ] Shakspere s'^ems, by no pe- 
 riod, to mean, no proper catastrophe. Of this Hanmer 
 was so well persuaded, that he thinks it nesessary to 
 read— no right period . S t e e v e n s . 
 
 314. they must come ojf ; ] To come oJJ, is 
 
 to pay. In this sense it is used by Massinger, in The 
 Unnatural Combat y a6l IV. sc. ii. where a wench, de- 
 manding money of the father to keep his bastard, 
 says, ^^ Will you come off, sir?'' Again, in Decker's 
 If this be not a good Play the Devil is in it, 1612 : 
 
 *' Do not your gallants come off roundly then :" 
 
 Steevens. 
 3?.i. / rather will suspecl the sun with cold,] Thus 
 the modern editions. — The old ones read — with goldf 
 which may mean, I rather v/ill suspeft the sun can be 
 a thief, or be corrupted by a bribe y than thy honour 
 can be betrayed to wantonness. Mr. Rowe silently 
 made the chanije, which succeeding editors have as 
 silently adopted. A thought of a similar kind occurs 
 
 in Hen, IV. Pari I. 
 
 «< Shall
 
 A6li*/. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. Ici 
 
 ** Shall the blessed sun of heaven prove a jnicher's"' 
 I have not, however, displaced Mr. Roue's emend- 
 ation ; as a zeal to preserve old readings without dis- 
 tinction, may sometimes prove as injurious to the 
 autiior's reputation, as a desire to introduce new ones, 
 without attention to the quaintncss of phraseology 
 then in use. SxErvETfs. 
 
 The examples here adduced by Mr. Steevens are, 
 I fear, scarcely in point; for in every one of them the 
 TO rather coalesces witii all, than wir.h tlie respec- 
 tive verb which follows it. An instance more to his 
 purpose occurs in Catniis, v. 366. 
 
 *' 1 do not think my sister so to-scek, 
 
 ** Or so unprincipled in virtue's book- " 
 
 At the same time it may Le remarked that all-to^ in 
 the sense of altogether {\\\\\z\i Mr. Warton has judi- 
 ciously restored) is used in the same context, 
 
 *' SJie plunres her feathers, and lets grow her 
 wings, 
 
 " That in the various bustle of resort 
 
 <« Were all-to rufHed " 
 
 In North" s Plutarch is a passage which will confirm 
 tlie observation above ; — — ** setting forth our cittie, 
 like a glorious woman, all to be. gadded [all-to be- 
 
 gauded] with gold and precious stones-." E. 174.- 
 
 Perhaps the line in K. John, should be thus printed ; 
 
 *' Is all-to wanton, and too full of gauds— " 
 
 Hex LEY, 
 
 347* * and takci the cattle ■,1 To /izic, in Shak- 
 
 1 iij spere,
 
 102 ANNOTATIONS UPON Atl IP'. 
 
 spere, signifies to seize or strike with a disease, to 
 blast. So, in Lear: 
 
 ** — --Strike her young bones, 
 
 .** Ye taking airs, with lameness." JohnsoNs 
 So, in Markham's Treatise of Horses y 1595, chap. 8. 
 '* Of a licrse that is taken. A horse that is bereft of 
 his feehng, mooving or styrring, is sd'id to he taken ^ 
 and in. sooth so hee is, in that he is arrested by so vil- 
 lainous a disease, yet some farriors, not well under- 
 standing the ground of the disease, conster the word 
 taken, to be striken by some planet or evil-spirit, w hich 
 is false," &c. Thus our poet : 
 
 *' No planets strike, no fairy takes.'" 
 
 TOLLF.T. 
 
 351. • idle-headed e/d] Eld seems to be used 
 
 here, for what our poets call in M^chetk — the oldtn time. 
 It is employed in Measure for Measttrey to express £Z,!,v 
 and decrepitude^ 
 
 *• doth beg the alms 
 
 ** Of palsied eld.'" Steevens. 
 
 360. Disguis'^d Like Heme, witn huge horns on his 
 head.] This line, which is not in the folio, was re- 
 stored from the old quarto by Mr. Theobald. He at: 
 the same time introduced another from the same copy 
 
 . — '^ We'll send him word to meet us in the field'" 
 
 which is dearly unnecessary, and indeed improper ; 
 for the word Jield relates to two preceding lines of 
 .tlie" quarto,, which have not been introduced: 
 
 '* Now, for that Falstafl' has been so deceived, 
 
 "As
 
 Atiri'. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 1-'^ 
 
 '< As that he dares not meet us in the housr.y 
 «' We'll send him v.ord to meet us in the Jield.'' 
 
 Malonf. 
 
 367. urc/nns, oiiphes,- ] The primitive 
 
 ^i^jnirication of nrc/u'n is a hedge-hog. In this sense it 
 is used in the Tempest. Hence it comes to signify any 
 thing Httle and dwarfish. Oup/i is the Teutonick word 
 for -A fairy or goblin . S t E E V E N s . 
 
 372. With some diffused song: ] A diffused song 
 
 signifies a song that strikes out into wild sentiments 
 beyond the bounds of nature, such as those whose 
 subjea is fairy land. Warburton. 
 
 Diffused may mean confused. So in Stovve's Chronicle^ 
 p. 553. *< Rice, quoth he, {i. e. Cardinal Wolsey,) 
 speak you Welch to them : I doubt not but thy speech 
 siiall be more diffuse to him, than his French shall be 
 to thee." ToLLET. 
 
 By diffused song, Shakspere may mean such irregu- 
 lar songs as mad people sing. Kent, in A". Lear^ when 
 he has determined to assume the appearance of a tra- 
 velling lunatick, declares his resolution to diffuse his 
 specchj i. e. to give it the turn peculiar to madness. 
 
 StEevens* 
 37,5. Andy fairy -like ^ TO pinch the unclean hiight -i] 
 The grammar requires us to read : 
 
 ** Andy fairy -like TOO, pinch the unclean knight.'''' 
 
 Warburton. 
 This should perhaps be written to-pinch, as one word. 
 Thij use of ^0, in composition with verbs, is very com- 
 mit in Gower and ChauCer, but must have been 
 
 rather
 
 ie4 ANNOTATIONS UPON Acl IK 
 
 rather antiquated in the time of Shakspere. See, 
 Gower, De Confesnone Amantisy B. iv. fol. 7. 
 
 " All to-tore is myn araie." 
 And Chaucer, RccvtsTaky 1169: 
 
 " mouth and nose to-broke.''' 
 
 The construction will otherwise be very hard. 
 
 Tyrwhitt. 
 I add a few more instances, to shew that this use of 
 the preposition to was not entirely antiquated. Spen- 
 ser's Faery Queen, b. iv. c. 7. 
 
 *' With briers and bushes all to-rent s.n\ scrat- 
 ched." 
 Again, b. v. c. 8. 
 
 *' Whh locks all loose, and raiment all to-tore.''' 
 Again, b. v. c. 0. 
 
 *' Made of strange stufFe, but all to-worne r.nd 
 
 ragged, 
 ** And underneath the breech was all to-torne and 
 jagged." 
 Again, in the Three Lords of London, 1,590 : 
 
 *' The post at which he runs, and all to-burns it.'''' 
 Again, in Ardcn of Fever sham , 1592 : 
 
 *' watchetsattin doublet, ^XXto-torn.'"' Steevens. 
 
 380. pinch him sQund,'\ i. e. soundly. The ad- 
 
 je6tive used as an adverb. Steevens. 
 
 394. That silk will I go buy ; and, in that time] Mr. 
 Theobald, referring that time to the time of buying 
 the silk, alters it to tire. But there is no need of any 
 change ; that time evidently relating to tiie time of the 
 mask with which Falstaff vvas to be entertained, and 
 
 which
 
 Ac: 11"'. MERkY WIVES OF \rtNDSOK. i:.:, 
 
 which makes the whole subject of this dialogue. 
 Therefore tlie common reading is right. 
 
 Warburton. 
 
 399- properties'] Properties are little incidental 
 
 necessaries to a theatre, exclusive of scenes and dres- 
 ses. Steevens. 
 
 4C0. ■ fn'chVi^ for our fairies.] "^To trickj is to 
 
 dress out. So, in Milton : ■ 
 
 " No tricked and froimc'd as she was went, 
 
 *' With the x\ttic boy to hunt ; 
 
 " But kirchief'd in a homely cloud."' SteevExVS. 
 
 413. \\\\2.t thick-skin ? ] I meet with this 
 
 term of abuse in Warner"'s Albion s England^ 1602, 
 book vi. chap. 30. 
 
 " That he so foul a thick- skin should so fair a 
 lady catch." Steevens. 
 
 418. — —standing-bed, and truckle-bed ; ] The 
 
 usual furniture of chambers in that time was a stand- 
 ing-bed, under which was a trocldcy truckle, or runfiing 
 bed. In the standing-bed lay the master, and in the 
 truckle-bed the servant. So, in Hall's Account of (2 
 Servile Tutor : 
 
 •' He lieth in the truckle-bed, 
 *' While his young master lieth o'er his head." 
 
 J o H N s : " 
 So, in the R.eturnfrom Parnassus, 1606 : 
 
 " When I lay in a trundle-bed under my tutor." 
 And here the tutor has the upper bed. Again, in 
 \{(t)\\oodi"ii Royal King, 8cc. 1637: " shew these
 
 lo6 ANNOTATIONS UPON ASl FA 
 
 gentlemen into a close room wiLh a itandivg-bcd in't, 
 and a ^ri/c^/f too." Steevens. 
 
 420. Anthropopkaginian'] i. e. a canibal. See 
 
 Othello^ a6t i. It is here used as a sounding word to 
 astonish Simple. Ephesiariy which follov. s, has no more 
 meaning. St t- evens. 
 
 430. Bohemian-Tartar— ] The French call 
 
 a Bohemian what we call a Gypsey; but I believe the Host 
 means nothing m.ore than, by a wild appellation, to 
 insinuate that Simple makes a strange appearance. 
 
 Johnson. 
 
 In Germany there were several companies of va- 
 gabonds, Sec. called Tartars and Zigens. " These 
 were the same in my opinion," says Mezeray, ** as 
 those the French call Bohemiansy and the Englisli Gyp- 
 sies." Bulteel's Translation of Mczeray^s History of 
 France^ under the year 1417. Tollet. 
 
 436. wise woman ] In our author's time 
 
 female dealers in palmistry and fortune-telling were 
 usually denominated wise women. So the person from 
 whom Heywood's play of The Wise Woman of Hogsdcn^ 
 1638, takes its title, is employed in answering many 
 such questions as are the objects of Simple's enquiry. 
 
 Reed. 
 
 438. mussel-shell; ] Pie calls poor Simple 
 
 mussel-shell, because he s'ands with his m.outh open. 
 
 Johnson 
 
 454. I may not conceal them, sir^ 
 
 Conceal them or thou dy'st^ In both these 
 
 instances,
 
 ACIIV. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 10/ 
 
 instances, Dr. Farmer thinks we should read, reveal. 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 467. clerkly, ] i. t. scholar-like. So, in the 
 
 1u;o Gentlemen cf Verona^ 
 
 " 'Tis very clerkly done." Steevens. 
 
 471. 1 paid nothing for it neither, but was 
 
 paid for my learning] He alludes to the beating which 
 he h:id just received. The same play on words occurs 
 in, Cymbeliney a6l v. 
 
 *' -sorry you have /czi too much, and sorry 
 
 *' that you d^re paid too much." Steevens. 
 
 479. three German devils, three BoEtor Fan- 
 
 iiusei.'\ John Faust, commonly called DoHor Fausius, 
 was a German. Steevens. 
 
 511. Primero ] A game at cards. 
 
 Johnson. 
 
 since I foreswore myself at Primero,'] Primers 
 
 was, in Shakspere's time the fashionable game. In the 
 earl of Northum.berland's letters about the powder 
 plot, Jose. Percy was playing at Primero on Sunday, 
 when his uncle, the conspirator, called on him at 
 Essex House. This game is again mentioned in our 
 author's Henry VIII. Percy. 
 
 572. to say my prayers,] These words arc 
 
 restored from the early quarto. They were probably 
 omitted in the folio, on account of the stat. 3 Jac. I. 
 c. 21. Malone. 
 
 528. aSticn of an old woman, ] The text 
 
 must certainly be restor'd a wood woman, a crazy, 
 frantick woman \ one too wild, and silly, and unmean-
 
 108 ANNOTATIONS UPON Acl IV. 
 
 ingj, to have either tlie inalice, or mischievous subtlety 
 of a wkch in her. Theobald. 
 
 The reading of the old copy is fully supported by 
 ' what Falstaff says to Ford : 
 
 " I went to iTer,, Master Brook, as you see, like a 
 poor old man ; but I came from her. Master Brook, 
 1 i ke a pooi- old woman.. " M a i, o n e . 
 
 534 • zvkat. adoe is here to brin^ycm together ! ] 
 
 The great fault of this play is the frequency of ex- 
 pressions so profane, that no necessity of preserving 
 character can justify them. There are laws of higher 
 autfearit}' than those of criticism. Johnson. 
 
 ^52. Fat S;r John Falstaff ] The words 
 
 S/r John, vvhicli are not in the first folio, were ar- 
 bitrarily inserted in the second, to supply the metre. 
 The corresponding passage in tlie early quarto, 
 
 " Whereon fat Falstalie liath a mighty scarre,'* 
 fa misprint for scene Jy renders it liiglily probable' that 
 the omitted word was that above priiited in Italicks. 
 I would therefore read, 
 
 ^Without the shev,- of both ; wherein fat Falstaff 
 
 Hath a great scene ; Ma lone. 
 
 " Sir John Faldaff 
 
 '■* Eaih a great scene ; tht image of the jest 
 *' /'// shew you at large.'''' 
 A similar alhision to a custom still in use of hang- 
 ing out painied representations of shows, occurs in- 
 Bussy d'Ambois: 
 
 *' The witch pohcy. makes him hke a monster 
 *' Kept only to shew men for goddesse money : 
 .5 *' That
 
 AEIIV. MERRY WIVES OF VvIXDSOR. 109 
 
 << That false hagge oftens paints him in lier cloth 
 " Ten times more monstrous tlian he is in troth." 
 
 Ken LEV. 
 
 5J3. the image of the jest] Image is rcprcstn- 
 
 tation. So, iu K. Richard III. 
 
 " And looking on his images.'' ' S t E s v E x s . 
 
 5,37. is here; ] i. e. in the letter. 
 
 Steeveks. 
 
 558. are somewhat rank onfoot^'] i. e. while they 
 
 are hotly pursuing other meri-iment of tlieirown. 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 562. even strong against that match] Thu« 
 
 the old copies. The modern editors read ever, but 
 perhaps v/ithout necessity. Even strong, is as stro/ig, 
 with a similar degree of strength. So, in Hamlet y 
 
 " even christian." 
 
 iSyfellGzu christian. Steevens. 
 
 56,5. tasking of tl^cir minds,] So, in another 
 
 play of our author : 
 
 " some tilings of v.eight 
 
 *' Tliat task our th.ougiits concerning us and 
 France." SrEEVENi. 
 
 ,574. to devote ] We might read — denctc. 
 
 So afterwards : 
 
 " -- — tlie white will dcdpltr her well enough." 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 Surely we not only m,ay, but ought, to read — denote'^'^ 
 
 In the folio 1623, the word is exhibited thus: — deuote. 
 
 It is higlily probable that tlie <? was reversed at the 
 
 K press.
 
 J 10 ANNOTATIONS UPON AH IVt 
 
 press. So, in Muck ado about Nothingy we meet : 
 
 ** He is turvCd orthographer" instead of turu'd. 
 
 Again, in The Winter's Tale : 
 
 ** Lonely apart " for ** Lonely apart." 
 
 Again, in Hamlet, quarto, 1605, we meet this very 
 word put by an error of the press for denote : 
 
 " Together with all forms, modes, ships of grief 
 
 " That can denote me truly." 
 Again, in Othello: " — to the contemplation, mark and 
 denotement of parts" — instead of denotement. Again, in 
 Jits Well that Ends Well, aft i. *' — the mystery of your 
 loneliness'"'' instead oi loneliness. Again, in K.John: 
 *' This expedition's charge." Again, ib. " involnerabUy^ 
 for — " involnerable." Again, in K. Henry V. a6t iii. 
 sc. vi. " Lenity and cruelty," for " for Lenity and 
 cruelty." Malone. 
 
 ej'j6. quaint in green,] may mean fantas- 
 tically drest in green. So, in Milton's Masque at Lud- 
 low Castle : 
 
 «' lest the place, 
 
 *' And this quaint habit breed astonishment." 
 Qiiaintnessy however, was anciently used to signify 
 gracefulness. So, in Green's Dialogue between a He and 
 a She Coney -catcher y 1592 : " I began to think what a 
 liandsome man lie was, and wished that he would 
 come and take a night's lodging with me, sitting in a 
 dump to think of the quaintness ot his personage." 
 In the Two Gentlemen of Verona^ act iii. quaintly is used 
 for ingeniously : 
 
 «< —ladder
 
 /i&K MERRY WIVES OF V/IXDSOR. lit 
 
 ** ladder quaintly made of cords." 
 
 StE EVENS. 
 
 In Daniel's Sonnets y 1594, it is used ior fantastic k. 
 ** Prayers prevail not with a quaint disdayne." 
 
 Maloxe. 
 
 ACT V 
 
 Line 8. ■ idiO LD up your head t c;/^ mince.] To 
 
 miiice is to walk with affeJted delicacy. So, in tlie 
 Merchant of VenicCy 
 
 " turn two mincing steps 
 
 " Into a manly stride." Steevens. 
 
 36. a nay-word ] 2. e. a watcli-word. Mrs. 
 
 Quickly has already used it in this sense. Steevens. 
 
 43. No ux"^ means evil but the devil y ] This 
 
 is a double blunder ; for some, of w hom this was 
 spoke, were women. We should read them, No one 
 means. Warburton. 
 
 There is no blunder. In the ancient interludes and 
 moralities, the beings of supreme power, excellence, 
 or depravity, are occasionally styled men. So, in Much 
 ado about Ncthingy Dogberry says : *' God's a good 
 many Again, in an Epitaph, part of which has been 
 borrowed as an absurd one, by Mr. Pope and his as- 
 sociates, who were not very well acquainted with an- 
 cient phraseology : 
 
 K ij << Do
 
 il:^ ANNOTATIO^^s upon AcllV, 
 
 *' "Do all we can, 
 
 *•' Death is a mcoi 
 
 " That never spareth none." 
 Ap;ain, in Jercnivw, or the First Part ef the Spanish 
 Tragedy, 1605: 
 
 *• Ycu're the last vian I tliouglit an, save the devil.'''' 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 57. and the Welch devil Evans?'] The former 
 
 impression, and the Welch dzvil Heme ? But Falstaft' 
 Avas to represent Heme, and he was on Welchman. 
 Where was the attention or sagacity of our editors, 
 not to observe that Mrs. Ford is inquiring for Evans 
 by the name of the Welch devil? Dr. Thirlby likewise 
 discover'd the, blunder of this passage. Theobald. 
 
 I suppose only the letter //. was set down In the MS; 
 and therefore, Instead of Hugh (whicli seems to be 
 the true reading), the editors substitued Heme. 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 58. • in a pit liard by Heme's oak^ ] An oahj 
 
 which may be that alluded to by Sliakspere, is still 
 standing close to a pit in Windsor forest. It is yet 
 r-hewn as the oak of Heme. Steevens. 
 
 85 . ]Vlu-ii gods have hot hacks, what shall poor men do ?] 
 Shakspcie had perhaps in his tlior^ghts the argument 
 which Ciierca employed in a shnilar situation. Teri 
 Eun. v.ci iii. w:. v. 
 
 " : Quia con similem luserat 
 
 *' Jam olim ille liiduni, impendlo magis animus 
 ;^"audeb(U mini, 
 
 *' Deum
 
 Ac^V. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR II3 
 
 ** Deum sese in liominem convertisse, atque per 
 alienas tegulas 
 
 " Venisse clanculum per iinpluvium, fucum fac- 
 tum mulieri. 
 
 *' At quern deum? qui templa cceli suirma sonit 
 concutit. 
 
 ** Ego homuncio hoc non Jacerem? Ego illud vero ita 
 feci, ac lubens." 
 A translation of Terence was published in J 598. 
 
 Ma LONE. 
 
 87. Send me a cool rut-time^ Jcve^ or icho can 
 
 blame me to piss my tallow ? ] This, I find, is tech- 
 nical. In Tuberville's Booke of Huntings x^-j^ : *' Dur- 
 ing the time of their rut, the rats live with small sus- 
 tenance. — The red mushroome helpeth well to make 
 them pysse their greace, they are then in so vehement 
 heate," &c. Farmer. 
 
 In Ray's CollcElion of Proverbs^ the phrase is yet fur- 
 ther explained : " He has piss d his tallozo. This is 
 spoken of bucks who grow lean after ru* '?>g-time, 
 and may be applied to men." Ste evens. 
 
 92. rain potatoes; ] Potatoes^ when they 
 
 were first introduced in England, were supposed to be 
 strong provocatives. See Mr. Collins's note on a pas- 
 sage in Troilus andCressida, act v. Steevens. 
 
 94. -i Aissing-comftSj ] These were sugar- 
 plums, perfumed to make the breath sweet. So, ia 
 Webster's Dutchess of Maljy, 1623 ; 
 
 K iij *' —Sun
 
 il4 ANNOTATIONS UPON Ati V. 
 
 " Sure your pistol holds 
 
 *' Nothing but perfumes or hlsJng-comjLts.'''' 
 In Sweciman Arraign'' d^ i6%o, these confections are 
 
 callea '< kissing-causcs.'''' " Their very breath is 
 
 sophisticated with ambcrpellcts, and kissing-causcs.'" 
 Again, in Th Siege, or Love's Coiroert, by Cartvvright : 
 
 *' kept 7»Zt'i/i-///.v/7/<>^ continually in my mouth," &c. 
 
 Again in A Very JVoman, by Masslnger : 
 
 *' Coni/it^of ambergris to help our kisses.'' 
 For eating these, queen Mab may be said, in Ron/c6 
 Kiid Jnliety to plague their lips wttk blislcrs. Stee ven s ■. 
 94- — — eringocs.'\ So, m DraytorSs Polyolbicn, 
 " vVh.o;c root th' Eringo is, the rtiiies that doth 
 
 inflarae, 
 '' So strongly to pcrforme the Cythcrean game.'* 
 
 Henderson. 
 
 ICO. 
 
 r if. 
 
 'ozv of ikis walky ] Who the fcllcut 
 
 is, or why he keeps his shoulders for him, I do not 
 
 i.ndersland. Johnson. 
 
 To the keeper the s/icwjaers and tumbles belong as a 
 
 peiquisite. Grey. 
 
 So, in Friar Bacon and Friar Bungay ^ 1,599, 
 
 " Butter and cheese, and Inmble^ of a deer, 
 
 '' Such as poor keepers have within tlieir lodge/* 
 
 So, in Holinshed, 1586, vol. I. p. 204 : " The keeper^ 
 
 by a custom hath the skin, head, vmblesy chine 
 
 .and shoulders.''' 
 
 Holinshed infoims us, that in the year 1583, for the 
 entertainment of prince Alasco, was performed " a 
 
 vcrie
 
 AclP'. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 1 15 
 
 vcrie statelie tragedie named Didc^ wherein the queen's 
 banquet (wiih Eneas narration of the destruction of 
 Troie) was Hvelie described in a marchpaine patterne, 
 ■ — t/ie tempest wherein it hailed small coiifeEls^ rained rose- 
 water., and snew an artificial kind of snctu, all strange, 
 mar\^ellous and abundant." On tliis circumstance very 
 probably Shakspere v.as thinking, when he put the 
 words quoted above into the mouth of FalstafF. 
 
 Steevens, 
 A walkj is that district in a forest, to wliich the 
 jurisdiction of a particular keeper extends. So, in 
 Ledge'' s Rosalynd : 
 
 " Tell me, forester, under whom maintainett 
 
 tliou thy walks'^''' 
 
 Again, ibid. " Thus, for two or three days he walked 
 
 up and down with his brother, to shew him all the 
 
 commodities that belonged to his walked Malone. 
 
 104. You ov^YHK-^ heirs of fix'd destiny jI But why 
 
 orphan heirs? Destiny, whom they succeeded, v/as yet 
 
 in being. Doubtless the poet wiote : 
 
 Ycu OUPHEN heirs of fix d destiny ., 
 
 i. e. you ehrsy v, ho mi'-iister, and succeed in some of 
 
 the works of destiny. They are called, in this p'ay, 
 
 both before and afterwards, ouphes; here ouphen; en 
 
 being the plural termination of Saxon nouns. For 
 
 tiie word is from the Saxon Alrenne, larnixy dcemones. 
 
 Or it may be understood to be an adjective, as u'ocduiy 
 
 zccolkny gddeuy cS:c. WarbuRTON. 
 
 Dr, Warburton correds orphan to oi'.phen; and not 
 
 withoiil
 
 Il6 ANNOTATIONS UPON Aci T. 
 
 without plausibility, as the word ouphcs occurs both 
 before and afterwards. But I fancy, in acquiescence 
 to the vulgar doctrine, the address in this line is to 
 a part of the troops as mortals by birtli, but adopted 
 by the fairies : orphans in respect of tlieir real parents, 
 and now only dependant on destiny herself. A few 
 lines from Spenser will sufficiently illustrate this 
 passage : 
 
 " The man whom heavens have ordarnd to bee 
 
 '* The spouse of Britoinart is ArthcgalU 
 *< He wonneth in the land of Fayeree^ 
 
 *' Yet is no Fary borne, ne sib at all, 
 *' To elfes, but sprong of seed terrestrial], 
 
 *' And whilome by false Faries splen away, 
 ** While yet in infant cradle he did crall." Sec. 
 
 Edit. 1590. b. iii. st. 26. 
 Farmer. 
 The old orthograpliy oielf\s thus, elphe and phayric. 
 See Middkton's Family of Love j 160G. Might we not 
 read elphcn ? Henderson. 
 
 116. Crier Hobgoblin J make the fairy o-yes. 
 Eva. Elves y list your names', silence , you airv to\s.~\ 
 Tliese two lines were certainly intended to rliimc to- 
 gether, as the preceding and subsequent couplets do ; 
 and accordingly, in the old editions, the final words 
 of each line are printed, eyes and toycs. This, there- 
 fore, is a striking instance of the inconvenience v.hich 
 lias arisen from modernizing the orthography of 
 Shakspere. Tykwhitt.
 
 Aiir. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. ilj 
 
 1 1 7. Eizes list your v.ames, ^c] The mo Jern editors, 
 without any authority, liave given these lines to Sir 
 Hugh. But in the only authenthick antient copy, the 
 first folio, they are attributed to Pistol-, and ought to 
 be restored to him. Neitlier he, indeed, nor Mrs. 
 Qu^ickly, seem to have been introduced with much 
 propriety here ; nor are they named by Ford in a for- 
 mer scene, wliere the intended plot against Fa) staff is 
 mentioned. It is highly probable, as the modern editor 
 has observed, that the same performers, who had re- 
 presented Pistol and Quickly, were afterwards from 
 necessity employed as fairies. Their names thus crept 
 into th.e copies. Malone. 
 
 120. as bilberry. '\ Th.e bilberry is the zckcrtk- 
 
 Icrry. Fairies were always supposed to have a strong 
 aversion to sluttery. Thus, in the old song of Rcbin 
 Good Ftlloxv. See Dr. Percy's Reliqucs, 
 
 *' When house or hearth doth sluttish lye, 
 " I pinch'd the maidens black and blue," Sec. 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 126. Rein up the organs of her fantasy ■,'\ i. e. curb 
 
 them, that she be no more disturbed by irregular 
 
 imaginations, than children in tlieir sleep. For he 
 
 adds immediately : 
 
 Sleep she as sound as careless it fancy. 
 So, in The Tempest : 
 
 *' Give not dalliance too mucli tlie rein." 
 And, \n Measure for Measure : 
 
 " I give my sensual race the rein."
 
 .tl8 ANNOTATIONS UPON A61F. 
 
 To give the reiuy being just the contrary to rein up. 
 The same thought he has again in Macbeth : 
 
 *' < • Merciful powers ! 
 
 *^ Restrain in me the cursed tliouglits tliat na- 
 ture 
 *' Gives way to in repose." Warburton. 
 
 This is highly plausible ; and yet, Raise up the or- 
 gans of her fantasy y may mean, elevate her ideas above 
 snisualityy exalt them to the noblest contemplation. 
 
 Steevens. 
 Bede is enjoined, wherever he finds a maid, though 
 she, after having prayed to the deity, should sleep in 
 consequence of her innocence, as soundly as an infant, 
 to elevate her fancy, and amuse her mind with some 
 delightful vision. — A comma should, I think, be placed 
 2St.tr fantasy y and a semicolon ^.{^(tx infancy . Sleep she 
 > — has the force of — though she sleep. Ma lone. 
 
 134. In state as wholesome^ ] The Oxford edi- 
 tor, not knowing^the meaning of wholesome^ has altered 
 it to, 
 
 In site as wholesom^ 
 ?nd so has made the wish a most absurd one. For the 
 site or situation must needs be what it is, till the ge- 
 neral destrudion. But wholsom here signifies integer. 
 He wishes the castle may stand in its present state of 
 perfection, which the following words plainly shew; 
 
 as in state 'tis fit. Warburton. 
 
 136. The several chairs of order y look you scour zvith 
 juice of balm, &c.] It was an article of our ancient 
 luxury, to rub tables, &c. with aromatick herbs. 
 
 Pliny
 
 ACIV. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. llf 
 
 Pliny informs iis, that tlie Romans did the same to 
 drive away evil spirits. Steevens, 
 
 148. chara6iery.~\ For the matter with which 
 
 they make letters. Johnson. 
 
 So, in another of our author's plays: 
 *' All the charaElery of my sad brows." 
 i, e. all that seems to be written on them. 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 ^55' ' of middle earth.'] Spirits are supposed 
 
 to inhabit the ethereal regions, and fairies to dwell un- 
 der ground ; men therefore are in a middle station. 
 
 Johnson. 
 So, in the antient metrical romance of S^r Guy of 
 Warwick, bl. 1. no date : 
 
 " Thou mayst them flea with dint of swearde, 
 " And win the fayrest mayde of middle erde.''* 
 Again : 
 
 «< . , the best knight 
 
 ** That ever was in middle earde^ 
 Again, in Gower, Dc Confessione Amantisy fol. s6. 
 *' Adam for pride lost his price 
 " In my dell ert/2.'' 
 Again in an ancient alliterative ode, quoted by Mr. 
 Warton, in his History of English Poetry : 
 
 " Middle-erd for mon was made." 
 Agiiin, the MSS. called JVilliam and the Werwolf \n 
 the library of King's College, Cambridge, p. 15. 
 ** And seide God th.at madest man and all middle 
 trthe:' Steevens. 
 
 The
 
 120 ANNOTATIONS UPON ACl K 
 
 The phrase signifies neither more nor less, th;in the 
 earth or worlds from its imaginary situation in the 
 midst or middle of the Ptolemaic system, and luis not 
 the least reference to either spirits or fairies. 
 
 R I- MARKS. 
 
 158. Fi/c worm, tl)ou wast o'er-look'd even in thy 
 birth.] Tlie old copy reads — vild. That vi/d, which 
 so often occurs in these plays, was not an error of tha 
 press, but the pronunciation of the time, appears from 
 these lines of Key wood, in his Pkasant Dialogues and 
 Dramas, 1637 : 
 
 "Earth. What goddess, ochov/ styTd ? 
 
 " Age. ^^eamlcall'd 
 
 " Earth. Hence false virago vild.'' 
 
 Mat.one. 
 
 159. IViik trial-fire, c%c.] So Beaumont and 
 Fletcher, in the Faithful Shepherdess : 
 
 ** In this flaine his linger thrust, 
 
 " Which will burn liim if he lust ; 
 
 ** But if not, away will turn, 
 
 *' As loth unspotted ilcsh to burn." Stkevhns. 
 
 169. Eva. It is right indeed, ■ — "J This sliort 
 
 speech, which is very much in charaftcr for sir Ilurh, 
 I have inserted from the old quarto, 1619. 
 
 Theosat.d. 
 
 172. and luxury I'] Luxury is here rsed for 
 
 inccntinence. So, in K. Lear, " To't luxury vell-n^.ell, 
 lor I lack soldiers." Steevens. 
 
 173. Lust is kit a bloody /?oJ A l>loody fire, 
 
 means
 
 Aci V. ME?.RY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 1"1 
 
 me^ns a fife in the blood. In The Second Part cf Hen. 
 IV. act iv. the same expr<?s3icn occurs : 
 
 " Led onhy bloody youth," 8cc. 
 i. e. sanguine youth. Steevens. 
 
 Again in the Tempest^ we have the verv- expression of 
 the text : 
 
 " the strongest oaths are straw, 
 
 " To ihe^zrf V the blood.'" 
 And in Giuello : " it is merely a lust in the blood." 
 
 Maloxe. 
 
 iSi. During this song, — ] This direclion I thouglit 
 
 proper to ir.sert from the old quartos. Theoba ld. 
 
 they pinch him.'] So, in Lylly's Endyrnictty 
 
 1 j9i : *' The fairies dance, and with a song, pinch 
 him." And, m\\\s Maid's Metamorphosis, i6oc, tliey 
 threaten the same punishment. Steepens. 
 
 207. — how wit may be made a Jack-a-lent, — — 1 
 
 A Jack o'Lent appears to have been some puppet 
 which v.as thrown at in Lent, like Shrove-tide cocks. 
 So, in the old comedy of Lady Alimony ^ 1659 • 
 
 " throwing cudgels 
 
 ♦' l\\. Jack-a-knts, or Shrove-cocks." 
 Again, in Beaumont and Fletclicr's Tamer Tamed : 
 
 " if I forfeit, 
 
 " Make me a Jack 0' Lent, and break my sliins 
 
 ** For untagged points and counters." 
 
 Again, in Ben Jonson's Tale of a Tub: 
 
 " on an Ash-Weinesday, 
 
 " Wliere thou didst stand six weeks the Jack 
 0' Lent J 
 
 L " For
 
 f22 ANNOTATIONS UPON ABf. 
 
 " For boys to hurl three throws a penny at thee.'* 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 ei8. a coxcomb of Frizcf] z. e. a fool's cap made 
 
 out of Welch materials. Wales was famous fortius 
 cloth. So, in K. Edward I. 1599 : " Enter Lluellin, 
 alias Prince of Wales, &c. with swords and bucklers, 
 diXidi frieze jerkins." Again: "Enter Sussex, &c. 
 with a mantle oi frieze."" " — my boy shall weare 
 a mantle of this country's weaving, to keep him 
 warm." Steevens. 
 
 243. the Welch fannel ; — ] The very word is 
 
 derived from a IVeicA one, so that it is almost unneces- 
 sary to add that fannel was originally the manufa6lure 
 of Wales. In the old play of K. Edward I. 1599 : 
 << Enter Hugh ap David, Guenthian his wench ir, 
 flannel, and Jack his novice." Again : 
 »* Here's a wholesome Welch v/ench, 
 ** Lapt in htr fannel as warm as wcol.' 
 
 Steevens, 
 
 243. — — ignorance itself Js a plumraet o''er me: — — ] 
 
 Though this be perhaps not unintelligible, yet it is an 
 
 odd way of confessing his dejetSlion, I should wish 
 
 to read : 
 
 ignorance itself ha.s a plume o' me : 
 
 That is, I am so depressed, that ignorance itself 
 plucks me, and decks itself with the spoils of my 
 weakness. Of the present reading, which is proba- 
 bly right, the meaning may be, I am so enfeebled, 
 that ignorance itself weighs me down and oppresses me. 
 
 Johnson. 
 ** Ignorance
 
 Acl.V, MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR; Ifg 
 
 " Ignorance itself, says Falstaff, is di plummet o'er 
 me." If any alteration be necessary, I think, ** Ig- 
 norance itself is d. planet o'er me," would have a 
 chance to be right. Thus Bobadil excuses liis cowar- 
 dice : '' Sure I was struck with 3. planet^ for I had no 
 power to toucli my weapon. ' ' Fa r m e r . 
 
 Dr. Farmer might have supported his conjecture 
 by a passage in K. Henry VI. where Queen Margaret 
 says, that Suffolk's face, 
 
 *' -rul'd like a wan de ring /^/c;?^^ over me." 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 Perhaps Falstaff' s meaning may be this: "Igno- 
 rance itself is a plummet o^er vie: i. e. above 77z<? i" 
 ignorance itself is not so low as I am, by the length 
 of ^plummet-line. Tyrvvhitt, 
 
 A passage in our author's 78th Sonnet adds some 
 support to the emendation proposed by Dr. Johnson : 
 " Thine eyes, that taught the dumb on high to 
 sing, 
 
 ** And heavy ignorance aloft tojly .'* 
 
 If plume be the true reading, Falstaff, I suppose meant 
 to say, that even ignorance, however heavy, could 
 ^(9flr above him. Malone. 
 
 Ignorance itself is a plummet o'er me — /. e. serves 
 to point out my obliquities. This is said in conse- 
 quence of Evans's last speech. The allusion is to 
 the examination of a carpenter's work by the plum- 
 line held over it j of which line Sir Hugh is here re- 
 presented as the lead. Henley. 
 L ij 2^0,
 
 124 ANNOTATIONS UPON Acl K 
 
 250, Mrs. Ford. Nay, husband ] This and the 
 
 following little speech I have inserted from the old 
 quartos. The retrencliment, I presume, was by the 
 players. Sir John Talstaff is sufnciently punished, in 
 being disappointed and exposed. Tlie expectation ot 
 his being prosecuted for the twenty pounds, gives the 
 conclusion too tragical a turn: Besides, it is poetical 
 justice that Ford should sustain this loss, as a fine for 
 his unreasonable jealousy. Theobald. 
 
 2,55. /augk at my wife ] The two plots are 
 
 excellently connected, and the transition very artfully 
 made in this speech . Johnson. 
 
 282. marry boys .?]This and the next speech are 
 
 likewise restorations from the old quarto. 
 
 Steevens. , 
 
 321. Page. Well, what remedy?] In the first 
 sketch of this play, which, as Mr. Pope observes, 
 is much inferior to the latter performance, the only 
 sentiment of which I regret the omission, occurs at ' 
 this critical time. When Fenton brings in his wife, 
 there is tliis dialogue. 
 
 " Mrs. Ford. Come Mrs. Page, I must be bold with 
 ycu, 
 
 'Tis pity to part love that is so true 
 
 Mrs. Page. [Aside.] Although that I have missed in 
 i»y intent, Yet I am glad my husband's match is cress' d. 
 
 Here Foiton, take her. ■ 
 
 Kva. Ccmc, master Page, ycu must needs agree. 
 
 Ford.
 
 see your ivife is 
 
 ASiV. MERRY WIVES OF WINDSOR. 
 
 Ford. /' faithy Sir, ccme, you 
 pkas'd. 
 
 Page. I cannot tcll^ and yetviy heart is eas'd; 
 And yet it doth me good the doElor viiss\l. 
 
 Come hither Fenton^ and come hither daughter^''* 
 
 Johnson. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 T^^s^^^^
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, 
 
 E Y 
 
 WILL. SHAKSPERE 
 
 Printed Complete from the TEXT of 
 
 SAM, JOHXSOX and GEO. STEEFEXS, 
 
 And revised from the last Editions. 
 
 Passages omitted in Rfprcser<[i:ion, are distingi.is'.ed b\ inverti-a Cimnoi, ih ij '• 
 
 When Learning's triumph o'er her barb'rcus foes 
 First rear'd the Stage, immortal SH.-iKSP£R£ rose j 
 Each change of irtny-colour'd life he dre^', 
 Fxhaustcd worlds, and then im;!c;in'd new: 
 Existence saw him spnrri her bounded reign, 
 And panting Time toil'd after him in vain : 
 Kis pow'rful strokes pn'siding Truth confcss'd, 
 And unresisted Pasiiou storm'd the breast. 
 
 DR. S A :.: V E L J H .V S O .V 
 
 LON'DON : 
 PnnteJfcjf, and under the dire ~: ion of 
 
 John Bell, ISritijefj^Hibrarr, Strantd, 
 
 M D C C L X .*< X V t
 
 OBSERVATIONS 
 
 c.v THE Jfablc AND CoiTiposition of 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 1 T is true, as Mr. Pope has observed, that somewhat rcsem- 
 b!mg the story of this play, is to be found in the fifth book of 
 tiic Grlando Fur'ioso. In Spenser's Fairy i^/eeny b. ii. c. 4. 
 as remote an original may be traced. A novel, however, of 
 B'//t'forest, copied from another of Bandclloy seems to have 
 furnished Shakspere with his fable, as it approaches nearer, 
 ill all its particulars, to the play before us, than any other per- 
 formance known to be extant. I ha^-e seen so many version^ 
 from this or.ce poputar coUedlion, that I entertain no doubt but 
 tiiat the great majority of the talis it comprehends, have 
 made their appearance in an English dress. Of that particular 
 story which I have just mentioned, viz. the eighteenth history 
 Vi the third volume, no translation has hitherto been mel 
 with. 
 
 This play may be justly said to contain two of the most 
 sprightly charaders that Shakspere ever drew. The wit, tlie. 
 humourist, the gentleman, and the soldier, are combined in 
 Benedick. It is to be kimented, indeed, that the first and 
 most splendid of these distinctions, is disgraced bv unnecessary 
 profancness ; for the goodness of his heart is hardly sufficient 
 to atone for the licence of his tongue. The too sarcastic 
 levity, which flash.es out in the conversation of Beatrice, may 
 be excused on account of the steadiness and friendship so 
 apparent in her behaviour, when she urges hpr lover to risque 
 iiU life by a challenge to Claudio. In the conduft pf the 
 fable, hov.ever, thcrq is an imperfedion similar to that whicli 
 A ij Dr,
 
 JV OBSERVATIONS, (!^C, 
 
 Dr. Johnson has pointed out in the Mi'rty IVrjes cf Windier. — 
 The second contrivance is less in.iJenious than the first : or, 
 to speak more plainly, the same incident is become stale by 
 repetition. I wish some other method had been found to 
 entrap Beatrice, than that very one which before had been 
 successfully praclised on Benedick. 
 
 Mu<:h ado about Nothing (as I understand from one of Mr. 
 Vertue's MSS.) formerly palled under the title of Benedick 
 and Beatrix. Heming, the player, received on the 2cth of- 
 May, 1613, the sum of forty pounds, and twenty pounds 
 more, as his majesty's gratuity for exhibiting fix plays at 
 Kampton-Couri, among which was this comedy. 
 
 S T E E V E X s . 
 
 iDtauiatis l^crronae* 
 
 MEh\ 
 Don Pe n P o, Prince of A^rcigr,ft. 
 Leo n a t o, G-.-nerKor of Alesslna. 
 Don John, Bastard Brother to Den Pedro, 
 Cl..iUDiO, a you^-g Lord of FlortncCy Fu-v.urite to Don 
 
 Pedro. 
 Be .N ED I c K, a young Lord of Padua., favoured likewise by 
 
 Don Pedro. 
 
 B A L T H .■v z A R , Servant to Den Pedro, 
 
 Antonio, Brother to Leonato, 
 
 Bo R A (: H I o, Confident to Don jfohn, 
 
 C o N R A D E , Friend to Borachio, 
 
 Dogberry, } ^ r '. r r-rc 
 Verczs, 'Y^ojoouso Officers. 
 
 WOMEN, 
 
 Hero, Daughter to Leonato. 
 
 Beatrice, Niece to Leonato, 
 
 Margaret, } ^^_^ Gentkxvcmen attending on Hero. 
 
 Tj X S U L a , ^ 
 
 A Friar t Messenger^ Watch, Town.CLiky Sexton, a>td 
 Atlendants, 
 Scene Alcssi^^ in Sic!h\
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 ACT I. SCENE I. 
 
 J^ Jo re Leo^ AT o's Hoi/Je. Ent^r Leonato, Hero, 
 and Beatrice, uit/i a Mfjfenger, 
 
 L^onato* 
 
 I LEARN' in this letter that Don Pedrq of Arragoa 
 comes this night to Messina. 
 
 Misi. Ke is very near by this ; he was not three 
 lcap;ues off when I lett him. 
 
 Lori. How niany gentlemen have you lost in this 
 action * 
 
 Mess. But few of any sort, and none of name. 
 
 Lron. A victory is twice itself, when the atchiever 
 
 brings ho^ie full numbers. I find here, that Doa 
 
 Pedro hath bestowed much ho^iour on a young Flo- 
 
 rvutiaej call'd Clauuio, it 
 
 A iij Mess.
 
 6 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. Ai^ I. 
 
 Mr!;x. Much deserv'd on his part, and equally re- 
 membered by Doll Pedro : He hath borne himself 
 beyond the promise of his age j doing, in the figure 
 of a lamb, the feats of a lin>\ : *« he hath, indeed, 
 *' better better'd expe(ilation, than you must expect 
 ** o'i me to tell you how.-' 
 
 Leon. He hath an uncle here in Messina will be 
 very much glad of it. i 9 
 
 Mess. I hjive already delivered him letters, atid 
 there appears much joy in him; even so mucii, that 
 joy could not shew itself modest cjiough \vithout a 
 badge of bitterness, 
 
 I.eon. Did he break cut into tears r 
 
 Mess. In great measure. 
 
 Leon. A kind oveifiow of kindness ; There ai-a 
 no faces truer than thoje that are so v.asii'd. «• How 
 *• much better is it to weep at joy, tliun to joy at 
 *' weeping !" at) 
 
 Beat. I pi'ay you. is signior Montauto returned 
 from the wars 5 *•' or no"? 
 
 Mess. I know none of that name, ladvj there \s'X% 
 none such in the arniy of any ^j,ovt. 
 
 /a>/^. What is he that you ask for, niece? 
 
 Hero. My Cousih means signior Benedick of Padua. 
 
 Mess. O, he's return'd-j and as- pleasant as ever lie 
 v;as. 37 
 
 Beat. <' He set Up his bills here in Messina, and 
 *' challenged- Cup?d lit the flight ; and my uncle's 
 *' fool, reading the challenge, subscrib'd for Cupid, 
 *« and challenged fiini at the bird-bolt.'' — I pray 
 
 vou,
 
 Act I. MUCH ADO ABOUT N'OTHIKC. 7 
 
 3'Ou, \\o\v many hath he kill'd and euten in these 
 -w^ars : But how many hath he kili'd ? for, indeed, I 
 proinisd to eat all of his killing. 
 
 Leon. Faith, niece, you tax signior Benedick too 
 jrrach 5 but hell be meet with you, I doubt it not. 
 
 Mtis. He hath done good service, lady, in these 
 wars. 48 
 
 Beat. You had must}'' vicinal, and he hath holp to 
 eat it : he's a vqt\ valiant trencher-man, he hath aa 
 excellent stomacii. 
 
 Ahss. And a good soldier too^ lady. 
 
 Beat. And a good soldier to a lady j — But what h 
 lie to a lord r 
 
 ** Mas. A lord to a loi'd, a man to a man j stuiPd 
 " with aJi honourable virtues. 
 
 *« Beat. It is so, indeed j he is no less than a 
 " stv.if'd man : but for the stuffing, — well, we are 
 '* ail mortal." 59 
 
 Leon. You must not, sir, mistake my niece : there 
 i.-. a kind of merry war betwixt signior Benedipk and 
 her: they never meet, but there's a skirmish of v/it 
 between them. 
 
 Bt:at. Alas, he gets nothing by that. In our last 
 conflicK four of his five wits went halting off, and 
 now is the whole man govern-d with one : so that if 
 he have wit enough to keep himself warm, let him 
 bear it for a dilference between himself and hitj 
 horse ; for it is ail the wealth that he hath left, to be 
 known a reasonable creature.— V/ho is his com- 
 panion now i he hath ever'j 
 Uiuther,
 
 8 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING,- A?. /, 
 
 Mcsu Is it possible ? 
 
 B((/t. Very easily possible : he weiirs his faith but 
 as the fashion of his hat, it ever changes with the 
 next block. ' ''■ ' 
 
 Mcsn. I see, lady, the gentl'emaii is not in your- 
 
 bpoI:$. -.■■--. 
 
 Brat, No : an he were, I would burn my study. 
 But, I- pi-ay you, who is his companion? ** Is there 
 '^ no young squarer no^v, that will make a voyage 
 '' with him to the devil :" 
 
 Mess. He is most in the company of the right 
 noble Claudio, 
 
 Brat. O lord ! He will hang upon jiim like a dh~. 
 case : he 5's sooner cauglit than the pestilence, and 
 the taker runs presently mad. God help the noble 
 Claudio! if he have caught the Benedick, it will 
 c(;ht him a tlrousand pounds e;e he he cur'd. 
 
 *< Mess. I ^^ ill hold friends with you, lady. 93 
 
 " Beat. Do, good friend." 
 
 I.ron. You'll ne'er run mad, niece, 
 
 B/at. No, not 'till a hot Jan,u;u'y. 
 
 Afo.i-.Don Pedro is approach'd. 
 
 ^nter Don Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Baltha- 
 zar, a»d Don John. 
 
 Pcdrei. Gooi\ signior Leonato, you are come to 
 meet your trovible : the fashion of the world ia to 
 avoid cost, and you encounter it. 
 
 /.S'<);7.' Never "dame trouble to my house m the like- 
 ness of your grace: for trouble b^eing gone, comfort 
 
 sliould
 
 Acl I, MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 9 
 
 should reraHin } but, when you depart from me, 
 sorrow abides, and happiness takes his leave. loi 
 
 Pedro. You embrace your charge too willingly. — 
 I think, this is your daughter. 
 
 Leon. Her mother hatii many times told me so. 
 
 Bene. V/ere you in doubt, sir, that you ask'd 
 her ? 
 
 Leon. Signior Benedick, no j for then were you a 
 child. ' ic8 
 
 Ptdro. You have it full. Benedick : we may guess 
 by this what you are, being a man. Truly, the lady 
 fathers herself: — Be happy, lady ! for you are like 
 an honourable father. 
 
 Bent. If Signior Leonato be her father, she would 
 not have his head on her shoulders for all Messina, 
 as like him as she is. 
 
 Beat. I wonder, that you will still be talking, sig- 
 nior Benedick; no body marks you, 
 
 Bau. V/hat, my dear lady Disdain! are you yet 
 living? 119 
 
 Beat. Is it possible, disdain should die, while she 
 hath such meet food to feed it, as signior Benedick ? 
 Courtesy itself must convert to disdain, if you come 
 in her presence. 
 
 Bcr,c. Then is courtesy a turn-coat: — But it is 
 certain, I am lov'd of all ladies, only you excepted : 
 and I would I could find in my heart that I had not a 
 hard heart j for tiuly, I love none. 127 
 
 Beat. A dear happiness to v.omen : they would ehe 
 have been troubled with a pernicious suitor. I thank 
 
 God,
 
 to MUCH ADO ,\BOUT NOTHINO. Acl I. 
 
 God, and my cold blood, I inn of your humour for 
 tiuit ; I had rather hear my dog bark at a crow, than 
 a man. swear he loves me. 
 
 Bei/c. God keep you ladyship- still in that mind! 
 so some gentleman or other shall 'scape a predestinate 
 scratch'd. face. 
 
 Btaf. Scratching could not make it worse, an 
 'twere such a face as your's *' were." 
 
 B<v!c. Well, you are a rare parrot-teacher. 
 
 Brc7f. A bird of my tongue, is better than a beast 
 of yours, 140 
 
 Br lie. I would, n.iy horse had the speed of your 
 tongue J and so good a continuer : But keep your 
 way o'God's name j I have done. 
 
 Beat. You always end with a jade"s trick j I know 
 you of old. 
 
 Pedro. This is the sum of all : Leonato, — Signior 
 Claudio, and signior Benedick,— rUiy dear friend 
 Leonato hath invited you all, I tell him, we shall 
 stay here at tb.c least a month ; and he heartily prays, 
 some occasiou r.iay detain Uo longer ; I dare svyear he 
 is no hypocrite, but prays f|om his heart. 1,31 
 
 Lcu)7. If you swear, my loi'd, you shall not be 
 forsworn. — Let me bid you welcome, my lord ; 
 being reconciled to the prince your brother, I owe 
 you all duiy, 
 
 Jo/in, I tiiank you : I am not of many words, but 
 I thank you. 
 
 Leon. Please it your grace lead on ? J, 38 
 
 Pedro. Your hand, Leonato; we will go together. 
 [^Exeunt all but Benedick and Claudio. 
 
 Claud.
 
 A7 /. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 11 
 
 Claud. Benedick, -didst thou note the daughter oi' 
 bignior Leonato ? 
 
 Be,:e. I noted her not ; but I look"d on her. 
 
 ('laud. Is she not a modest young h.idy ? 
 
 Bene. Do \rm question me, as an honest man 
 should do, tor my simple true judgment ? or YNould 
 70U have me spelik after my custom, as being a pro- 
 fessed tyrant to their sex ? 
 
 Claud. No, I pray thee, speak in sober judg- 
 ment. -^ -^^f^^^'^ -r'i.c'fV/*' 169 
 
 Be?>e: Why, i'foith, methinks she is too low for a 
 high praise, too brovn for a fair praise, and too 
 little for a great praise : only this commendation I 
 can aiford her ; that were she other than she is, she 
 were unhandsoilteV ^^^^^^ being no other but as she is, 
 I do'iiot like her. 
 
 Claud. Thou think'st, I am in sport 5 I pray thed, 
 t^ll me truly how thou lik'st her f 
 
 Bene. Would you buy her, that you enquire after 
 her? • i;^ 
 
 • Claud. Can the world buy such a jervel ? 
 
 Bene. Yea, and a case to put it into. But speak 
 you this with a sad brow ? or do you play the flout- 
 ing Jack ; ** to tell us Cupid is a good hare-f.ndtr^ 
 ^ and Vulcan a rare carpenter?" ConlL„ in what key 
 shall a man take you, *' to go in the song"' ? 
 
 Claud. In mine eye, she is the sweetest ladv that I 
 ever looked on. 187 
 
 - Bfnr. I can see yet without spectacles, and I see 
 *io such matter: there's her cou^Li^ an she were not 
 
 possessed
 
 le MTJC-H ADO ABOUT NOTHING. AB !» 
 
 possessed with a fury, exceeds her as much in beauty, 
 as the first of May doth the last of December. But 
 I hope, you have no intent to turn husband j liave 
 you ? 
 
 Claud. I would scarce trust myself, though I had 
 sworn the contrary, if Hero would be my wife. 
 
 Bene. Is't come to this, i' faith ? Hath not the 
 world one man, but he will wear his cap with suspi- 
 cion ? Shall I never see a bachelor of threescore 
 again ? Go to, i' faith ; an thou wilt needs thrust thy 
 neck into a yoke, wear the print of it, and sigh 
 away Sundays. Look, Don Pedro is rerurn'd to 
 seek you. 202 
 
 Re-enter Don Pedro. 
 
 Pedro. What secret hath held you here, that yoa 
 fbilow'd not to Leonato's ? 
 
 Bene. I would, your grace would constrain me to 
 tell. 
 
 Pedro. I charge thee on thy allegiance. 
 
 Bene. '' You hear count Claudio : I can be secret 
 as a dumb man^ I would have you think so ; but on 
 ijiy allegiance, — mark you this, on my allegiance.— 
 He is in love. With who ? — now that is your grace's 
 part. — Mark, how short his ansv/er is : — With H^ro, 
 Leonato's short daughter. 213 
 
 Claud. If this were so, so were it uttered. 
 
 Bene. Like the old tale, my lord : it is not so, nor 
 'twas not so J but, indeed, God forbid it should be 
 so. -T 
 
 Claud.
 
 Aci T. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHIKQ. jg 
 
 Gaud. If my passion change not shortly, God for- 
 bid it should be oiiherwise. 229 
 
 Pedro. Amen, if you iove her, for the lady is very 
 well worthy. 
 
 Claud. You speak this to fetch me in, my lord. 
 
 Pedro. By my troth, I speak my thought. 
 
 Claud. And, in faith, my lord, I spoke mine. 
 
 Bene. And, by my two faiths and troths, m.y iordj 
 I spoak mine. 
 
 Claud. That I love her, I feel. 
 
 Pedro. That she is worthy, I know. 228 
 
 Bene. That I neitlier feel how she should be loved, 
 nor know how she should be worthy, is the opinion 
 that fire cannot melt out of me j I will die in it at 
 the stake. 
 
 Pedro. Thou wast ever an obstinate heretick In tl:3 
 dcspight of beauty. ., 
 
 Claud, And never could maintain his part, but in 
 the force of his will. , 
 
 Rem. That a woman conceived me, I thank her ; 
 that she brought me up, I likewise give her most 
 hurable thanks : but that I will have a rechcat 
 winded in my forehead, " or hang my bugle in aij 
 *•' invisible baidrick," all women shall pardon me : 
 Because I will not do them the wrong to mistrust any, 
 I will do m)self the right to trust none ; and the iihc 
 is (for the which I may go the finer), I will live a 
 bachelor. 245 
 
 P:drG. I shall see thee, ere I die, look paie wittj 
 
 ivVC. 
 
 Jg Beat,
 
 14 MVCH ADO ABOt'T NOTHI?IC' A^. T, 
 
 Bene. With anger, with sickness, or with hunjjer, 
 my lord ; not with love : prove, that ever I losd 
 ftiore blood with love, than I will get again with 
 drinking, pick out mine eyes with a ballad-maker's 
 pen, and hang me up at the door of a brothel-house 
 for the sign of blind Cupid. . <2y^ 
 
 Pedro. Well, if ever thou dost fail from this faith, 
 thou wilt prove a notable argument. 
 
 Pedro. If I do, hang me in a bottle like a cat, and 
 shoot at me; " and he that hits me, let him be clap'd 
 '** on the shoukier, and call'd Adam." 
 
 Pedro. Weil, as time shall try : 
 In time the savoi^e hull doth bear the yoke. 26a 
 
 Bene. The savage bull may ; but if ever the sensible 
 Benedick bear it, pluck olf the bull's horns, and set 
 them in my forehead: and let me be vilely painted ; 
 and in such great letters as they write, litre is <^ood 
 horse to hire, let them signify under my iiign, — Here: 
 yo2i max see Bctudick the marry' d man. 
 
 *' Claud. If this should ever happen, thou would'st 
 " be horn-mad."'* 
 
 Pedro. Nay, if Cupid hath not spent all his quiver 
 in Venice, thou wilt quake for this shortly. 270 
 
 Bene. I look for an earthquake too then. 
 
 Pedro. Well, you will temporize with the hours. 
 In the moan time, good signior Benedick, repair fo 
 Leonato's ; commend jne to him,- and tell him, I \vili 
 not fail him at supper ; for, indeed^, he hath niade 
 great preparation. 
 
 Bene.
 
 Jc! L. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOlHINOi Ij 
 
 B(nc. I have almost matter euougli in me for such 
 an embassage ; and so I commit you— 
 
 Claud. To the tuition of God ; from my house 
 (if I had it),— 280 
 
 Pedro. The sixthof July ; your loving friend, Be- 
 dick. . 
 
 Bene. Nay, mock not, mock not : The body of 
 yoiu" discourse is sometime guarded with fragments, 
 and the guards are but slightly basted on neither ; 
 ere you tiout old ends any further, examine your 
 conscience; and so I leave you. [Z.wV. 
 
 Claud. My liege, your highness now may do mc 
 good, 289 
 
 Prdro. My love is thine to teach ; teach it but how. 
 And thou shalt see how apt it is to learn 
 Any hard lesion that may do thee good. 
 
 Claud. Hath Lconato any son, my lord > 
 
 Pedro. No child but Hero, she'i his only heir: 
 Dost thou affeft her Claudio ? 
 
 Claud. O mv U")rd, 
 When vou went onward on this ended a61ion, 
 I look'd upon her with a soldier's eye, 
 That lik'd, but had a rougher task in hand 
 Than to drive liking to the name of love : 303 
 
 But Jiow I am returu'd, and that war-thoughts 
 Have left their place*; vacant, ui their rooms 
 Come thronging soft and delicate desires, 
 All prompting me how fair yo\ing Hero is. 
 Saying, I lik'd her ere I went to wais. 
 
 Pcdrc- Thou wilt be like a lover presently, 
 
 Bij And
 
 to MUCH ADO'ABOUT nothing; Jci h 
 
 And tire the hearer with a book of words : 
 
 If thou dost love fair Hero, cherish it j 
 
 And I will break with her *' and with her father, 309 
 
 " And thou shalt have her :" Was't not to tiiis end. 
 
 That thou began'st to twist so tine a story ? 
 
 CLaiid. How sweetly do you minister to love. 
 That know love's grief by his complectionl 
 But lest my liking might too sudden seem, 
 I would have salv'd it with a longer treatise. 
 
 Ptdro. What need the bridge much broader than 
 the flood ? 
 The fairest grant is the necessity : 
 Look, what will serve, is fit : 'tis once, thou lov*st ; 
 And I will fit thee with the remedy. 
 I know v\"e shall have revelling to night j 32<> 
 
 I will assume thy part in some disguise, 
 And tell fair Hero I am Claudio 5 
 And in her bosom Til unclasp my heart, 
 And take her hearing prisoner with the force 
 And strong encounter of my amorous, tale : 
 Then, after, to her father will I break j 
 And, the conclusion is, she shall be thine ; 
 In praclice let us put it presentlv. \^Excufit» 
 
 > , , , _ 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 *^ J Room in LEo:>i AT o's House. EntcrLEOK ato and 
 Antonio. 
 *^ Leo. How now, brother? Where is my cousin, 
 " your &on? Hath he provided this musick? ^p,o 
 
 ".int.
 
 y ■ MUCH ADO ABOL" -Z-TiiVJG, JT 
 
 Ani. He is very bubv about it. But, brother, I 
 ** can tell you news that you yet dreum'd not of. 
 
 *' Lcoi2. Are they good ? 
 
 *' Jnt. As the event stamps them ; but they haye 
 *« a good cover, they show well outward. The prhicc 
 •' and count Claudio, walking in a thick-pleacl;ed 
 *' alley in my orchard, were thus overheard by a 
 *' man of mine : The prince discover'd to Claudio, 
 *• that hi,' lov'd my niece your daughter, and meant 
 *' to ackno\^4edge it this evening in a dance ; na\-, 
 ** if he found her accordant, he meant to take the 
 *' present time by the top, and instantly break with 
 *• you of it. 343 
 
 ** Lf-j/i. Hath the fellow any wit that told you 
 *' this ? 
 
 ** Jnf. A good sharp fellow j I will send for him, 
 ** and question him yourself. 
 
 *' let?;?. No, no ; we will hold it as a dream, till. it 
 *' ,4ppc;u- itself: — but I will acquaint my daughter 
 ** wiilial, that she may be tlie better prepared foriin 
 *^ answer, if perad venture this be true : Go you, aiid 
 *' tell her of it. \^Scveral Servants cross the sta,{^e /Lcrc,^ 
 '' Cousin, you know what, you have to do.^^O, I 
 •• cry you mercy, friend ; go you with me, and I will 
 "^ use your skill ; Good cousin, have a care this busy^ 
 *' thue.'* ^Exeunt. 
 
 Biij SCENE
 
 l8 MUCH ADO ABOUT N'OTHING. AB 1, 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 Another Apartment in Leoxato's llcu'^e. Enter Uqh 
 John and Conradh. 
 
 Conr. What the good-jer, my lord ! why are you 
 thus out of measure sad ? 
 
 John. There is no measure in the occasion that 
 breeds it, therefore the sadness is without ii)nit. 3(10 
 
 Conr. You should hear reason. 
 
 John. And when I have heard it, wliat blessings 
 bringeth it ? 
 
 Conr. If not a present remedy, yet a patient suf- 
 ferance. . 
 
 John. I wonder, that thou being (as thou say'st 
 thou art) born under Saturn, goest about .to apply a 
 moral medicine to a mortifying mischief. I cann<^ 
 hide what I am : I must be sad when I have cause, 
 and smile at no man's jests 5 eat when I ha^-e sromach, 
 and wait for no raan s leisure ; sleep when I am 
 clrowsy, and tend on no man's business j laugh 
 when I am merry, and claw no man in his hu- 
 rnour. 374 
 
 Conr. Yea, but you must not make the full show 
 of this, till you may do it witiiout conti'ouiment. 
 you haye of late- stood out against your brother, and 
 he hath ta'en you newly into his graces where it is 
 hnpo^sible you' should take "root, but by the fiiir 
 weather that you make yourself: it is needful tiiat 
 you frame the season tor your own harvest. 38 j 
 
 Juhn.
 
 Acfh MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 19 
 
 John. I had rather be a canker in a hedge, than a 
 rose in his grace ; and it better fits my blood to be 
 disdain'd of all, than to fashion a carriage to rob love 
 from any : in this, though I cannot be said to be a 
 flattering honest man, it must not be deny'd but I 
 am a plain-dealing villain. I am tmsted with a muz- 
 zle, and infranchised with a clog ; therefore I have 
 decreed not to sing in niy cage : If I had my mouth, 
 I would bite: if 1 had my liberty, I would do my 
 liking: in the mean time, let me be that I am, a.id 
 reek not to alter me. 3(,;'j 
 
 ' Conr. Can you make no use of your discon- 
 tent ? 
 
 Jvhn. I make all use of it, for I use it only. Who 
 eornes l:iere i what news, Borachio ? 
 
 EnUr Borachio, 
 
 Bora. I came yonder from a great supper ; the 
 prince, your brother, is royally enterlain'd by Leo- 
 nato j and I can give you intelligence of an intended 
 mujiiage. 400 
 
 • John. Will it serve for any model to build mischief 
 on r What is he, for a fool, that betioths hlmselt to 
 un quietness ? 
 
 Bora. Marry, it is your brother's right hand. 
 ' John, Who J'the most exqui-site Ciaudio ? 
 
 Bora. Even he ! 
 
 John. A proper squu'e! and who, and who? which 
 yn^"^ looks iie ? : 
 
 Bora,
 
 20 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING^ Acl L 
 
 Bora. Marry, on Hero, the daughter and heir of 
 Leonato. 410 
 
 Juhn. A very forward March- chick! " How come. 
 ** you to know this ? 
 
 *< Bora. Being entertain'd for a perfumer, as Iwa^. 
 *' smoaking a musty room, comes me the prince. 
 *' and Chiudio, hand in hand, in sad, conference : I 
 ** whipt me behind tlie arras ; and there heard it 
 ** agreed upon, that the prince shoukl woo Hero for 
 ** himself, and having obtained her, give her to 
 " count Clavidio. 419 
 
 *■'■ John.''' Come, come, let us thither 5 this may 
 prove food to my displeasure : that young start-up 
 hath all the glory of my overthrow j if I can cross 
 him any way, I bless myself every way: Yon aic 
 both sure, and will assist me. 
 
 Conr. To the dcaih, my lord. 
 
 Jo/in. Let us to the great supper; their cheer is 
 the greater, that I am subdued: 'Would the cook 
 ■were of my mind ! — '' Shall we go prove what's to 
 *' be done ? 
 
 ** Bora. We'll wait upon your lordship."' 430. 
 
 IKxcunt^ 
 
 ACT
 
 AS, IL MUCH ADO ABOUT rsOTHING* 2J 
 
 ACT II. SCENE L 
 
 A Hall in Leonato's Huu:>e. Enter Leo NATO, 
 Antonio, Hero, Beatrice, Margaret, and 
 
 Ursula. 
 
 Lccnato. 
 
 \\ A s not count John here at supper ? 
 
 Ant. I saw him not. 
 
 Beat: How tartly that gentleman looks ! I never 
 can see him, but I am heait-buru'd an hour after. 
 
 Hero. He is of a very melancholy disposition. 
 
 Beat. He were an excellent man, that were made 
 just in the mid-way between him and Benedick : 
 the one is too like an image, and says nothing ; and 
 the other, too like my lady s eldest son, evermore 
 tattling. lo 
 
 Leon. Then half cignior Benedick's tongue in 
 count John's mouth, and half count John's melan- 
 choly in signicr Benedick's foce, — . 
 
 Beat. With a good leg, and a good foot, uncle, 
 and money enough in his purse, such a man v>'ould 
 win any woman in the world, — if he could get her 
 good will. 
 
 Leon. By my troth, niece, thou wilt never get thee 
 a husband, if thou be'st so shrewd of thy tongue. 
 
 " Ant. In faith, she's too curst. 20 
 
 " Beat. Too curst is more than curst : I shall lessen 
 
 *^ God's sending that way : for it is said, God sends a 
 
 ** curst cow Jkort horns j but to a covv' too curst he 
 
 ** sends none. 
 
 o <' Leon,
 
 S^ MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. Jcl Ih 
 
 ** Lco?2. So, by being too curst, God will send you 
 «* no horns. 
 
 *' Bc.^j. Just, if he send me no husband f for the- 
 which blessing-, I am at him upon my knees every 
 morning and evening : Lord ! I could not endure a 
 husband with a beard on his face ; I had rather lie in 
 woollen. 3^ 
 
 Leon. You may light upon a husband, that hath no 
 beard. 
 
 Brat. What should I do with him ? dress him in* 
 my apparel, and make him my waiting-gentlewoman? 
 He that hath a beard, is more than a youth 5 and he 
 that hath no beard, is less than a man : and he that, 
 is more than a youth, is not for me 5 and he that is 
 less than a man, I am not for hhn : Therefore I will 
 even take six-pence in earnest of the bear-herd, and. 
 lead his apes into hell. 
 
 Lco/i. Well, then, go you into hell ? 
 
 Beat. No J but to the gate: and there will the de-- 
 vil meet me, like an old cuckold, with horns on his 
 head, and say, G^t you to heaven, Beatrice^ get rou to 
 heaven ; here's no place for you maids : so deliver I up 
 my apes, and away to saint Peter for the heavens j, 
 *' he shews me" where the bachelors sit, and there 
 live Ave as merry as the day is long. 49 
 
 Ant. Well, niece, I trust, you will be rulM by 
 your f ither. {To Hera. 
 
 Beat. Yes, faith ; it is my cousin's duty to make 
 ,1 curtsy, and say, Father, as it please you : — but yet 
 for all that, cousin, let him be a handsome ftllow, 
 
 o
 
 ^."7 //. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 2^ 
 
 or else make vinother cuj-tsy, and say, Father^ as it 
 pltase. me. 
 
 I.ro?/, Well, niece, I hope to see you one day 
 fitted \vith a husband. 58 
 
 Biat. Not tiii God make men of some other metal 
 tnan earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be 
 t)ver-master\l v.ith a piece of valiant dust ? to make- 
 -.iccount of her life to a clod of wayward marie r No, 
 •Jiucle. rli none r Adam's sons are my brethren, and 
 truly, I hold it a sin to match in my kindred. 
 
 L(c/i. Daughter, remember what 1 told you : if 
 the prince do solicit you in that kind, you know your 
 ;i)is\ver. 67 
 
 Brai. The fault will be in the musick, cousin, if 
 you be not wooM in good time : if the prince be too 
 important, tell him, there is measure in every thing, 
 ar.d so dance out the answer. P'or hear me, Hero, 
 \\'ociing, \tedding, anil repenting, is as a Scotch jig, 
 a measure, and a cinque-pace : the first suit is hot 
 und hasty, like a Scotch jig, and full as fantastical ; 
 the v/edding, mannerly modest, as a measure full of 
 stare and ancientry; and then comes repentance, and, 
 with his bad legs, falls into the cinque-pace faster 
 antl faster, 'till he sijik into his grave. 
 
 Irj.'t. Cousin, you apprehend passing shrewdly. 
 
 B^at. I have a good e)'e, uncle ; I can see a church 
 by day -light. ^* 
 
 Leon, ll.e revellers arc entrlng ; brother, make 
 good room. 
 
 Inter
 
 '54 WUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, AcTII, 
 
 Enter Den Pedro, Claudio, Benedick, Bal- 
 thazar; Den ]o\i^y BoRACHio, Margaret, 
 ; Ursula, end others mask' d. 
 
 Pedro. Lady, will you walk about with your 
 friend ? 
 
 . Hero. So you walk softly, and look sweetly, and 
 «ay nothing, I am yours for the walk j and, especi- 
 ally, when I walk away. 
 
 Pedro. With me in your company ? 
 
 Hero. I may say so, when I please. 60 
 
 ' Pedro. And when please you to say so ? 
 
 Hero. When I like your favour ; for God defend, 
 •the lute should be like the case I 
 
 . Pcu'-o. My visor is Philemon's roof; within the 
 house is Jove, 
 r Hc7-o. Why, then your visor should be thatch'd, 
 
 Pedro. Speak low, if you speak love. 
 
 Enltk. Well, I would you did like rae. 
 
 Marg. So would not I, for your own sake ; for I 
 have many ill qualities. loo 
 
 Baltb. Which is one ? 
 
 Marg. I sijy.my prayers aloud. 
 
 -BaUk. I love you ihe better ; the hearers may cr}- 
 amen. 
 • Marg. God match rae with a good dancer ! 
 
 BdlLh. Amen. 
 
 Marg. And God 4<eep him out of my sight when, 
 the dance is done ! — Aniwer, clerk, 
 
 Bahk.
 
 Jcl If. MUCK ADO ABOUT NOTliI?;G. £5 
 
 Balth. No more words ; the clerk is answer'd. 
 
 " Urs. I know you well enough ; )'gu are Signior 
 *^ Antonio, ' 211 
 
 *•' Ant. At a word I am not.- 
 
 ** Urs. I know you by the wagling of your head. 
 
 *' Ant. To teli you true I counterfeit him. 
 
 '< Urs. You could never do him so ill-well, unless 
 *^ vou were the very man : Here's his dry hand up 
 ^^ and down j you are he^ you are he. 
 
 " Anl. At a word, I am not. 
 
 '• Urs. Come, come 5 do you think, I do not know 
 '' you by your excellent vf'it > Can virtue hide itself ? 
 <* Go to^ mum,- you are he : graces will appear, and 
 '* there's an end," 12? 
 
 Beat. Will you not te!-I me who told you so ? 
 
 Bene. No, you shall pardon me. 
 
 Beat. Nor v/ill you not tell me who you are ? 
 
 Bene. Not now. 
 
 Beet. That I was disdainful — and that I had my 
 good wit out of the Hundred merry Tc/c5 5— Well, 
 this was signior Benedick that said so. 
 
 Btne. What's he ? 13O 
 
 Beat. I am sure, you know him well enough. 
 
 Btnt. Not I, believe me. 
 
 Beat. Did he never make you laugh? 
 
 Bine. I pray you, what is he •• 
 
 Etat. Why^ he is the prince's jester : a very dull 
 fool ; only his gift is in devising impossible slanders; 
 Bone but libertines delight in him; and the commen- 
 dation is not in his wit, but in his villainy j for^he
 
 iG MT.tCH ADO ABOUT NOTHI^-G. Jcl. II. 
 
 both pleaseth meiij mid angers them, and then they 
 laugh at him, and beat him : I am sure, he is in the 
 iieet ; I would he had boarded me. 141 
 
 Bene. When 1 know the gentleman, I'll tell him 
 what you say. 
 
 Brat. Do, do : he'll but break a comparison or 
 two on me ; which, perad venture, not mark'd, or not 
 langh'd at, strikes him into melancholy; and then 
 there's a partridge wing sav'd, for the fool will eat no 
 supper that night. We nuist follow the leaders. 
 
 [Music will/in. 
 
 Bene. In every good thing. 
 
 Beat. Nay, if they lead to any ill, I will leave 
 them at the next turning. 151 
 
 Mancnt JOHN, B R A C K I O , and Ch.w^'DiO. 
 
 John. Sure, my brother is amorous on Hero, and 
 hath withdrawn her father to break with him about 
 it : The ladies follow her, and but one visor re- 
 mains. 
 
 Bora. And that is Claudio : I know him by his 
 bearing. 
 
 Johi. Are you not signior Benedick ? 
 
 Claud. You know me well ; I am he. 1,59 
 
 John. Signior, you are very near my brother in. his 
 love : he is enamoured on Hero ; I pray you, dissuade 
 him from her, she is no equal for his biith : you may 
 do the part of an honest man in it. 
 
 Claud. How know von he loves her ? 
 
 John. I heard him swear b.is aife»itiou. 
 
 4 jSur^.
 
 JcJ If. MUCH ADO AHOUT NOTHING. 2/ 
 
 Bora. So did 1 tco ; and he swore he would marry 
 her to niL^ht. 
 
 Jo/iii. Come let us to the banquet. 
 
 [Extunt John andBoKA. 
 
 Claud. Thus answer I in name of Benedick, 169 
 But hear these ill news with the ears of Claudio. — 
 'Tis certain so : — The prince wooes for himself. 
 Friendship is constant in all other things, 
 Save in the office and affairs of love : 
 Therefore, all hearts in love use their own tongues : 
 Let ev'ry eye negotiate for itself, 
 And trust no agent : for beauty is a witcli. 
 Against whose charms faith melteth into blood. 
 This is an accident of hourly proof, 
 Which I mistrusted not : Farewel, therefore, Hero. 
 
 Rc-cntcr Benedick. 
 
 Brnr. Count Claudio ? 
 
 Claud. Yea, the same. 180 
 
 Bene. Come, v.ill you go with me ? 
 
 Claud. Whither ? 
 
 Brnr. Even to the next willow, about your own 
 business, count. What fashion will you wear the 
 garland of ? About your neck, like an usurer's 
 chain r or under your arm, like a lieutenant's scari ? 
 You must wear it one way, for the prince hath got 
 your Hero. 
 
 Claud. I wish him joy of her. 1S9 
 
 Bene. Why, that's spoken like an honest drover j 
 C i j so
 
 ISS MUCK ADO ABOUT NOTHING- Acl IL 
 
 sp they sell bullocks. But did you think, the prince 
 would have served you thus ? 
 
 Claud. I pray you leave me. 
 • Bene. Ho 1 now you strike like the blixnd man ; 
 'twas the boy tluit stole your meat, and )-ou'll beat 
 the post- 
 
 Claud. If it will not be, I'll leave you. [A'-v/V. 
 
 Bene. Alas, poor hurt fowl ! Now will he creep 
 
 into sedges. -But, that my lady Beatrice should 
 
 know me, and not know me ! The prince's fool !— 
 Ha? it may be, I go under that title, because I am 
 merry. — Yea ; but so ; I am apt to do myself wrong- : 
 I am not so reputed : it is the base, though bitter 
 disposition of Beatrice, that puts the world into her 
 person, and so gives me out. V/ell, I'll be rcvci-'d 
 as I may. 
 
 Re-enter Don Pedro, 
 
 Pedro. Now, Siguior, where's the Count? Did you 
 ser him ? 
 
 Bene. Troth, my lord, I have play'd the part of 
 lady Fame. I found him here as melancholy as a 
 J edge in a warren; I told him, and, I think, I told 
 him true, that your grace had got ti;e good v.'ill of this 
 yovmg lady ; and I offered him my company to a 
 willow tree, either to make hmi a garland, as being 
 forsaken, or to bind him up a rod, as being w^orthy 
 to be whipt. 
 
 Pedro. To be whipt ! What's his fault ? 
 
 Bene,
 
 JSI II. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 29 
 
 Briir.. The flat transgression of a school-bo}^ ; who, 
 bting over oy'd with finding a bird's nest, shews it 
 his companion, and he steals it. 220 
 
 Pedro. Wilt thou make a trust a transgression ? 
 The transgression is in the stealer. 
 
 Bene. Yet it had not been amiss, the rod had been 
 made, and the garland too ; for the garland he might 
 have worn himself j and the rod he might have be- 
 stow'd on you, who, as 1 take it, have stol'n his 
 bird's nest. 
 
 Pedro. I will but teach them to sing, and restore 
 them to the owner. I'lg 
 
 Bene. If their singing answer your saying, by my 
 faith, you say honestly. 
 
 Pedro. The lady Beatrice hath a quarrel to \ou ; 
 the gentleman, that danc'd with her, told her, she is 
 much wrong'd by you. 234 
 
 Bene. O, she misus'd me past the endurance of a 
 block ; an oak, but with one green leaf on it, would 
 have answer'd her ; my very visor began to assume 
 life, and scold with her : She told me, not thinking I 
 had been myself, chat I was the prince's jester ; and 
 that I was duller than a great thaw j huddling jest 
 upon jest, with such impossible conv,eyance, upon me, 
 that I stood like a man at a mark, with a whole army 
 shooting at me : She speaks poniards, and every 
 word stabs : if her brey.th were as terrible as her ter- 
 minations, there were no living near her ; she would 
 infect to the north star. I would not marry her, 
 though she were endowed with all that Adam liad 
 Ciij Iv-ft
 
 go MUCE ADO ABOUT NOTHING, Acl II, 
 
 left him before he transgressM : sjie would have made 
 Hercules have turnVi spit ; yea, and have cleft his 
 club to make the fire too. <' Come, talk not of her ; 
 *^ you shall find her the infernal Ate in good apparel." 
 I would to God, some scholar would conjure her i 
 for, certainly, while she is here, a man may live 
 as quiet- in hell, as in a san6luary ; and people sin 
 upon purpose, because they would go thither : so, 
 indeed,, ail disquiet, horror, and perturbation follow 
 her. OJ7 
 
 Erder Claudio, Beatrice, Lf.onato, ^.','i'?'Hero. 
 
 Pedro. Look, here she comes. 
 
 Bene. Will your grace command me any service to 
 the world's end ? I will go on the slightest errand now 
 to the Antipodes, that you can devise to send me on ; 
 I will fetch you a tpoth -picker now from the farthest 
 inch of Asia j bring you the length of prester Johns 
 foot J fetch you a hair off the great Cham's heard ; 
 do you any embassage to the Pigmies, rather than 
 hold three wprds conference witii tins harpy: You 
 have no employment for me ? ; 267 
 
 Pedro. None but to desire your good company. 
 
 Bate. O Go4, sir, Jiere's a dish 1 love not ; I 
 cannot endure my lady's Tongue, 270 
 
 Pedro. Come, lady, coine j you bave lost the 
 heart of signior Benedick, 
 
 *' Btat. Indeed, my lord, he lent itme awhile ; and 
 f* I gave him use for it, a vU>iil)le heart for a sliiy-le 
 ^* one: mjirry, onge before he v^on it ofrnc with false 
 
 «' divCt 
 
 i
 
 Acl II. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. gt 
 
 <' (lice, therefore your grace may Keil sr.y, I have 
 << lost ir. 
 
 " Pedro y You have put him down, lady, you 
 hive put him down. 
 
 Beat. So I would not he should do me, my lord, 
 Ifcst I should prove the mother of fools. I have 
 brought count Ciaudio, whom you sent me to 
 seek. 2^3 
 
 Pedro. Why, how now, count ? wherefore are you 
 sad ? 
 
 Cldud. Not sad, my lord, 
 
 Pedro. How then ? Sick ? 
 
 Claud. Neither, my lord. 
 
 Beat. The count is neither sad, nor sick, nor mer- 
 ry, nor well : but civil, count ; civil as an orange, 
 ami something of that jealous completion. 5-91 
 
 Pedro, rfaith, lady, 1 think your blazon to be, 
 true J though, I'll be sworn, if he be so, his conceit 
 is false. Here, Ciaudio, I have wooed in thy name, 
 and fair Hero is won ; I have broke with htr father, 
 and his good will obtained -. name the day of mar- 
 iiai,c, and God give thee joy ! 
 
 hor.. Count, take of me my daughter, and with 
 her my fortunes : his grace hath made the mutch, 
 ;ind all grace say amen to it ! 300 
 
 Beat. Speak, count, 'tis your cue. 
 
 Claud, Silence is the perfeitest herald of jo)' : I 
 Were but little happy, if I could say how much. — 
 Liivly, as you are mine, I am yours : I give away 
 myself for you, and doat upun the exchange. 
 
 3 Bcn€,
 
 32 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. AB II. 
 
 Beat. Speak, cousin ; or, if you cannot, stop 
 his mouth witli a kiss, and let lum not speak 
 neither. 
 
 Pedro. In faith, ladv, you have a merr\^ heart. 
 
 Beat. Yea, my lord ; I thank it, poor fool, it 
 keeps on the windy side of care: — My cousin tcll^ 
 him in his ear, that he is in her heart. 312 
 
 Claud. And so slie doth, cousin. 
 
 Beat, Good lord, for alliance! — Thus goes every 
 one to the Avorld but I, and I am sun-burn'd j I 
 may sit in a corner, and cry heigh ho ! for a hus- 
 band. 
 
 Pedro. Lady Beatrice, I will get you one. 318 
 
 Beat. I would rather have one of your father's 
 getting : Hath your grace ne'er a brother like you ? 
 Your father got excellent husbands, if a maid could 
 come b)' them. 
 
 Pedro. Will you have me, lady ? 
 
 Beat. No, my lord, unless I might have another 
 for working days 5 your grace is too costly to wear 
 every day :-^But, I beseech your grace, pardon me j 
 I was born to speak all mirth, and no matter. 
 
 Pedro. Your silence most offends me, and to be 
 inerry best becomes you ; for, out of question, you 
 were born in a merry hour, 330 
 
 Beat. No, sure, my lord, my mother cry'd j but 
 then there was a star danc'd, and under that I was 
 born. — Cousins, God give you joy, 
 
 Leon. Niece;, will you look to those things I told 
 you of ? 
 
 Beat.
 
 Acl If. MUCH ADO ABOUT KOTIUNG* 33 
 
 Beat. I cry you mercy, uncle. — By your grace's 
 pardon. lExU Beatrice. 
 
 Pedro. By my troth, a pleasant- spirited lady. 3^8 
 
 << Leon. There's little of the meiancholj' element in 
 *' her, my lord : she is never sad, but when she 
 '* sleeps: and not ever sad then j for I have heard 
 ** my daughter say, she hath often dream' d o^ un- 
 " happiness, and wak'd herself with laughing. 
 
 " Ptdr0^ She cannot endure to heai- tell of a hus- 
 « band. 
 
 *' Ll07i. O, by no means ; she mocks all her 
 " wooers out of suit. 
 
 " Pedro. She were an excellent wife for Benedick. 
 
 *' Lf.c.n. O Lord, my lord, if they ivere but a week 
 *' marry'd, they would talk themselves mad. 
 
 " P<dr<>.'^ Count Claudio, when mean you to go 
 to church ? . 332 
 
 Claud. To-morrow, my lord : Time goes oa 
 crutches, till love have all his rites. 
 
 Leon. Not till Monday, my dear son, " which is 
 " hence a just seven-night;"' and a time too brief 
 too, to have all things answer my mind. 
 
 Pedro. Com£, yo,u shake tliejiead at so long a 
 breathing; but, I waiTant thee, Claudio, the time 
 shall not go dully by us : I will, \ii the interim, under- 
 take one of Hercules' labours ; which is, to bring 
 signior Benedick, and the lady Beatrice, into a moun- 
 tain of affection, the one with the other. I would 
 fain have it a match ; and 1 doubt not to fashion it, 
 
 if
 
 34 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. A8 11. 
 
 if you three will but minister such assistance as I 
 shall give you direftion. 
 
 Leon. My lord, I am for you, though it cost me 
 ten nights watchings. 
 
 Claud. And I, my lord. 
 
 Pedro. And you too, gentle Hero ? 370 
 
 Hero. I will do any modest office, my lord, to help 
 my cousin to a good husband. 
 
 Piidro. And Benedick is not the unhopefullest hus- 
 band that I know: thus far I can praise him. ; he is 
 of a noble strain, of approv'd valour, and confirni'd 
 honesty. I will teach you hovv to humour your cou- 
 sin, that she sliall fall in love with Benedick : — and I, 
 with your two helps, will so practise on Benedick, 
 that, in despight of his quick wit and his queasy- 
 stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice. If we 
 can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer ; his glory 
 shall be ours, for .we are the only love-gods. Go in 
 with me, and I will tell you my drift. {^Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE 11. 
 
 Another Apartment in Leonato's House. Enter Don 
 John c^zaf Borachio. 
 
 yohn. It is so ; the count Claudio shall marry the 
 daughter of Leonato. ' 3H5 
 
 Bora. Yea, my lord j but I can cross it. 
 
 Joinu
 
 Acl U. M U C H ADO ABOUT N O T F[ I N G . 3 ^ 
 
 Jo/irt, Any bar, any cross, any Impediment will be 
 medicinal to me : I am sick in displeasure to him ; 
 and whatsoever comes athwart his afteition, ranges 
 evenly with mine. How canst thou cross this mar- 
 riage ? 991 
 
 Bora. Not honestly, my lord ; but so covertly that 
 no dishonesty shall appear in me. 
 
 John. Shew me brierty how. 
 
 Bora. I think, I told your lordship, a year since, 
 h(^\v much I am in the favour of Marg-arer, the wait- 
 ing gentlewoman to Hero, 
 
 John. I remember. 
 
 Bora. I can, at any unseasonable instant of the 
 night,.ap^ioint her to look out at her lady's chamber- 
 window, ^oa 
 
 John. What life is in that, to be the death of this 
 marriage >. 
 
 Bora. The poison of that lies in you to temper. 
 Go you to the prince yoir brother j spare not to tell 
 him, that he hath wrong'd his honour in marrying 
 the renown'd Claudio, (whose estimation do you 
 mightily hold up) to a contaminated stale, such a 
 one as Hero. ^06 
 
 John. What proof shall I make of that } 
 
 Bora. Proof enough to misuse the prince, to. vex 
 Claudio, to undo Hero, and kill Leonato : Lcok you 
 for anv otht-r issue ? 
 
 Juf'in. Only to (Respite them, I will cnde;ivour any 
 th3n-, ^i^ 
 
 Bura.
 
 :^ Klt;CS AD6 AEOUT NOTHIKG. Acl !L 
 
 ■ Bora. Go then, find me a meet hour to draw 
 Don Pedro, and the count Claudioy alone : teil them 
 that you know, Hero loves me j intend a kind of 
 zeal both to the prince and Claudio, as — in a love of^ 
 your brother's hono jr who hath made this match ; 
 and his friend's reputation, v/ho is thus like to be 
 eozen'd vv'itlr the semblance of a maid, — that you have 
 discovert thus. They wil 1 scarcely believ^ tliis- v/ith- 
 cpdt tx't^i : otfer thera instances ; which sliall bear na 
 less likelrlrotx.!^ than to see me at her chamber v/in- 
 <Jow ; hea? m,e call iN/kivgTjret, Hero v hear Margaret 
 f^rm me Claudio ; a-iid bying them* to see this,, the 
 very night before tlie iMended wedding : for, in- 
 the mean titne, I will so fa3hion the matter, that 
 Hero shall be ab"cnt ; and there shall appeal- such- 
 seemjng tnrth of Hero's disloyalty, that jealousy 
 shall be eaU'd assurance, and ail the preparation, over- 
 throwrt. 
 
 , John. Grow thk to what adverse issii'e it can, I 
 v/iti pat it in praftice : Be cunning in the working 
 this, and thy fee is a thoii'sand ducats, 
 : Rora.. Be thou constant in the accusatiom, ai^d my 
 cupnir.g shall not shame me. 
 
 John. I will presently go learn their day of mar- 
 ri%e. l^Extiint. 44Q' 
 
 SCEXE
 
 Ac} II. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 37 
 
 SCE.KE III. ' 
 
 Leoi^ kTO's Orchard. Enter Eesedick ^^ and a Boy.''* 
 
 «' Bene. Boy, — 
 
 *' Boy. Signior. 
 
 *« Bene. In my chamber- window lies a book j brlno- 
 ** it hidier to me in the orchard. 
 
 " Boy. I am here already, sir/' aac 
 
 Bene. " I know that j — but I would have thee 
 *« hence, and here again. ^Exit Boy.y^ — I do much 
 wonder, that one man, seeing how much another 
 man is a fool when he dedicates his behaviours tolov^e, 
 will, after he hath laugh'd at such shallow follies in 
 others, become the argument of his ov,-n scorn, by 
 falling in love : And such a man is Claudio. I hive 
 known, when there was no musick with him but the 
 drum and the fife ; and now had he rather hear the 
 tabor and the pipe : I have known, when he would 
 have walk'd ten mile afoot, to see a good armo.ur} 
 and now will he lye ten nights awake, carving the 
 fashion of a new doublet. He was wont to speak 
 plain, and to the purpose, like an honest man, and 
 a soldier: and now is l>e turn'd orthographer j his 
 words are a very fantastical banquet, just so many 
 strange dishes. May I be so conyerte^, ^nd see v,-ith 
 these eyes ?. I cannot tell ; I think not : I will not be 
 sworn, but love may transform me to an oyster; b\it 
 111 take my oath on it, till he have made an oyster 
 D of
 
 8^ ^!UCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. All I!. 
 
 of mc, he shall never make me such a fool. One 
 woman is fair; yet lam well: another is wise ; yet 
 I am well : another virtuous ; yet I am v.ell : but till 
 all grjKres be in one woman, one woman shall not 
 come in my grace. Rich she shall be, that^s certain j 
 wise, or I'll none; virtuous, or Til never che:ipen 
 her; fair, or Til never look on hf?r ; mild, or come 
 not near me ; noble, or not I for an angel ; of 
 good discourse, an excellent musician, and her hair 
 •shall be of what colour it please God. Ha i the prince 
 and monsieur Love! I will hide me in the ar- 
 bour. [ tVith dra ws. 
 E//tcr 1)d?2 Tldko, Leonato, Cla.udio, ^//a'Bal- 
 
 T H A Z A R . 
 
 Pedro. Come, shall we hear this m.usick ? 4-8 
 
 Claud. Yea, my good lord :— how still the evening is, 
 As hush'd on purpose to grace harmony! 
 
 Pedro. See you where Benedick hath hid himself? 
 
 ** Claud. O very well, my lord: the muric ended, 
 " We'll fit the kid-fox with a penny-worth. 
 
 ** Pedro.'"- Come^ Balth^.z^.r, we'll Lear that scn^ 
 again. 
 
 Balth. O good my lord, tax no* so had a voice 
 To slander musick any more than once. 
 
 Pedro. It is the witness still of excellency, 
 To pat a strange face on his ovvn perfetlion : — 
 I pray thee sing, and let me woo no more. 490 
 
 " Balth. Because you talk of wooing, I v. ill sing : 
 ** Since many a wooer doth commence his suit 
 <* To her he thijiks not worthy ; yet he wooes ; 
 
 4 ' '♦ Yet
 
 Acl II. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 39 
 
 " Yet will he svisar, he loves. 
 
 '< Pedro. Nay, pray thee, come : 
 *• Or, if thou -vvilt hold longer argument, 
 <' Do it in notes. 
 
 " £a/ta. Note this before my note?, 
 <' There's not a note of mine, that's worth the 
 noting. _500 
 
 <' Pedro. Why these are veiy crotchets that he 
 speaks ; 
 <' Note, notes, forsooth, and noting!'' 
 
 Baic. Nov/, Dmine air I now is his soul ravish'd ! — • 
 Is it not strange, that sheeps guts should hale souls 
 out oi mens bodies r — Weil, a horn for m) money, 
 when all's done. 
 
 SONG. 
 
 Sigh nj murSy ladicsy sigh no morty 
 
 Men Were dectivcrs ever -^ 
 One foot in sea, and one on piore \ 
 To one thing constant never ; 
 Then sigh not soj 
 But let them go, 
 And be you Llith arid bonny ; 
 CiyJwerting all jour sounds of woe 
 
 Into, Hey nonny, ncnny, ^i5 
 
 Sing no more ditties, sing no tno 
 Of dumps so dull and heavy j 
 T/ie frauds of men were ever so. 
 Since summer frst was leavy. 
 Then sigh not so, ykc. 
 
 D ij Pedro.
 
 40 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. A& II, 
 
 Pedro. By my troth, a good song. 
 
 Balth. And an ill singer, my lord. 
 
 " Pcfi'ro. • Ha ? no 5 no, faith j thou sing'st well 
 ** enough for a shift." 
 
 Baie. S^/hidc.'l An he had been a dog, that should 
 have howl'd thus, they would have hang'd him : and, 
 I pray God, his bad voice bode no mischief! I had 
 as lief have heard the night-raven, " come what 
 plague could have come after it." 530 
 
 Pedro. *' Yea, marry 5" — Dost thou hear, Baltha- 
 zar r I pray thee, get us some excellent musick ; for 
 to-morrow night we would have it at the kidy Hero's 
 chamber- vvinduw. 
 
 Balth, The best I can, my lord. 
 
 {^Exit Balthazar. 
 
 Pedro. Do so: farewel. Come hither, Leonato j 
 What was it you told me of to-day, that your niece 
 Beatrice was in love with signior Benedick ? 
 
 Claud. O, ay; — Stalk on, stalk, on, the fowl sits. 
 [Aside to Pedro.'} I did never think that lady would 
 have loved any man. 541 
 
 Leon. No, nor I neither; but most wonderful, 
 that she should so dotc^on signior Benedick, whom 
 she hath in all outward behaviours seemJd ever to 
 abhor. 
 
 Befie. Is't possible ? Sits the wind in that corner ? 
 
 [ Aside. 
 
 Leon. By my troth, my lord, I cannot tell what to 
 think of it, but that she loves him with an enraged 
 artedion : — it is past the inlinite o: thought. 
 
 Pedro.
 
 A51 II. xMUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 4I 
 
 Pedro. May be, she doth but counterfeit, 550 
 
 Claud. Faith, like enough. 
 
 Leon. O God ! counterfeit ! There never was coun- 
 terfeit of passion came so near the life of passion, as 
 she discovers it. 
 
 Pedro. Why, what effects of passion shevvs she ? 
 
 Claud. Bait the hook well : this lish will bite. 
 
 [Aside. 
 
 Lion. What effects, my lord! She v/ill sit you, — 
 You heard my daughter tell you how. 
 
 Claud. She did, indeed, 
 > Pedro. How, how, I pray you ? You amaze me ; 
 I would have thought her spirit had been invincible 
 against all assaults of affection. .562 
 
 Leon. I would have sworn it had, my lord j espe- 
 cially against Benedick. 
 
 Bene. \_Aside.'\ I should think this a gull, but that 
 the white-bearded fellow speaks it : knavery cannot, 
 4ure, hide himself in such reverence. 
 
 Claud. He hath ta'en the infection j hold it up. 
 
 [Aside, 
 
 Pedro. Hath she made her affection known to Be- 
 nedick ? 5;o 
 
 Leon. No J and swears she never will : that's her 
 torment. 
 
 ^^ Claud. 'Tis true, indeed ; so your daughter 
 ^•' says : S/mtl I, sdiys shCy that Aave sa oft encMaUr^d 
 *' Aim with scorn y write to him that I loveh^m ? 
 
 ** Leon. This says she now when she is beginning 
 
 ** to write to him : for she'll be up twenty times a 
 
 D i i j " nighl ;
 
 4^ * MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, AH IL 
 
 ** night ; and there she will sit in her smock, 'till 
 '* she have writ a sheet of paper :— my daughter 
 « tells us all. 580 
 
 ** Claud. Now you talk of a sheet of paper, I re-, 
 *' member a pretty jest your daughter told us of. 
 
 " Leon. Oh, — When she had writ it, and was 
 ** reading it over, she foun4 Benedick and Beatrice 
 <* between the sheet ?— 
 
 ♦' Claud. That, 
 
 ** Leon. O, she tore the letter into a thousand half-, 
 ** pence ; raiVd at herself, that she 3hould be so 
 *' immodest to write to one that she knew would flout 
 ** her: I measure him^ says she, by my own spirit j for , 
 ^* L should flout hiiUy if he writ to me j yea^ though L love 
 ** him, I should, 592 
 
 " Claud. Then down upon her knees she falls, 
 ^^ weeps, sobs, beats her heart, tears her hair, prays, 
 *^ curses j — sweet Benedick I God give me patience. 
 
 ** Lecn. She doth indeed ; my daughter says so :" 
 and the ecstacy hath so much overborne her, that my 
 daughter is sometime afraid she will do desperate 
 outrage to herself} ^? It is very true." 
 
 Pedro. It were good, that Benedick knew of it by 
 some qther, if she will not discover it, 601 
 
 *' Claud. To what end ? He woidd but make a 
 *' sport of it, and torment the poor lady wyrse. 
 
 " Pedro. An he should, it wejre yu alms to hang 
 f* him : She's an excellent sweet lady j and, out of 
 *' all suspicion, she is virtuous. 
 
 '^ Claud. And she is exceeding wise, 
 
 ♦• Ptd/i,
 
 Aclll. MUCH 4D0 ABOUT NOTHING. 43 
 
 *' Pedro. In every thing, but in loving Bene- 
 *' dick. 
 
 *' Leon. O my lord, wisdom and blood combating 
 <^ in so tender a body, we have ten proofs to one, 
 *' that blood hath the viftory. I am sorry for her, as 
 *' I have just cause, being her uncle and her guardian. 
 
 " Pedro. I would, she had bestowed this dotage on 
 *' me; I would have daff'd all other respefts, and 
 " made her half myself :" I pray you tell Benedick 
 of it, and hear what he will say. 
 
 Leon. Were it good, think you? 618 
 
 ** Claud. Hero thinks surely, she will die ; for she 
 *f says, she will die if he love her not 5 and she will 
 ** die ere she make her love knov.-n ; and &he will die 
 <' if he woo her, rather than she will bate one breath 
 ** of her accustomed crossness." 623 
 
 Pedro, ** She doth well : if she should make tender 
 *' of her love," "tis very possible, he'il scorn it; for 
 the man, as you know all, hath a contemptible 
 spirit. 
 
 *' Claud. He Is a very proper man. 
 
 *' Pedro. He hath, indeed, a good outward happi-. 
 f' ness. 
 
 " Claud. 'Fore God, and in my mind, very wise. 
 
 »< Pedro. He doth, indeed, shew some sparks that 
 ♦< are like wit, 633 
 
 *' Lean. And I take him to be valiant. 
 
 " Pedro. As He6tor, I assure you : and in the 
 
 «* mauagino; of quarrels you may say he is wi^e; for 
 
 g «* either
 
 44 MUCH ADO ABOUT N'OTHiNG. ABU, 
 
 *.* eitlier he avoids them with great discretion, or 
 ** undertakes them with a christian-iike fear. . 
 
 " Leon. If lie do fear God, he rqust necessarily 
 *< keep peace 5 if he break the peace, he ought to 
 ** enter into a quarrel with fear and trembling. 
 
 *•' Pedro. And so will he do ; for the man dotl^ 
 ** fear God, hov/soe\'€r it seems not in him, by some 
 *' large jests he will rnake. Well, I am sorry for 
 <* your niece : Shall we go seek Benedick, and tell 
 *' him of he^- love r" 646 
 
 Claud. Never tell him, my lord j let; her wear it 
 eut with good counsel. 
 
 Leon. Nay, that's impos:ible ; she rnay wear her 
 heart out first. 
 
 Pedro. Well, we will hear further of it by your 
 daughter ; let it cool the Vv-hile. I love Benedick 
 well ; and I ^ould wish he would modestly examine 
 himself, to see how much he is unwprthy to have so 
 good a lady. 6^^ 
 
 Leon. My lord, will you walk ? dinner is ready. 
 
 Claud. If he. do not dote on her upon this, I will 
 sever trust my expectation. \^/Uidc. 
 
 Pedro. Let there be the same net spread for her, 
 and that must your daughter and her gentlewoman 
 carry. The sport will be, when they hold an opinion 
 <?f one another's dotage, and no such matter ; that's, 
 the scene that I would see, " which will be merely 
 ** a dumb show.'* Let us send, her to call him to. 
 dinner. \^4^id£'\ [Exeunt^' 
 
 fitNECSiCK.
 
 Ad; II. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTxHING. 45 
 
 Benedick advances from the arbour. 
 
 Bene. This can be no trick : The conference was 
 sadly borne. — They have the truth of this from 
 Hero. They seem to piiy the lady ; it seems, her 
 affections have the full bent. Love me ! why, it 
 must be requited. I hear how I am censur'd : thsy 
 say, I will bear myself proudly, if T perceive the love 
 come from her ; they say too, that she v/ill rather die 
 than give any sign of aifeftion. — I did never think to 
 marry : — I must not seem proud : — happy are they" 
 that hear their detraftions, and can pat them to 
 mending. They say, the lady is fair j 'tis a truth, 
 I can bear them witness : and virtuous j — "tis oo, I 
 canno:: reprove it : and wise — but for loving me : — 
 By my troth it is no addition to her wit ; — nor no 
 great argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in 
 love with her. — I may chance have some odd quirks 
 and remnants of wit broken on me, because I have 
 rail d so long against marriage : Eut doth not the 
 appetite alter ? A man loves the meat in his youth, 
 that he cannot endure in bis age :— rShall quips, and 
 sentences, and these paper bullets of the brain, awe 
 a man from the career of his humour ? No : the world 
 must be peopled. When I said, I would die a 
 bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were 
 marry'd. — Here comes Beatrice : By this day, she's a 
 fair lady : I do spy some marks of love in her. 691 
 
 Enter
 
 ^6 MUCH ADO ABOUT NGTillNG. Acl III. 
 
 Enter- Beatrice. 
 
 Beat. Agaiiist my will, I am sent to bid you come 
 ill to dinner. 
 
 Bevf. Fair Beatrice, I tJia.ik you for your pains. 
 
 Beat. I took no more pains for those thanks, than, 
 you take pains to thank me j if it had been painful^ 
 1 wouki not liave come. 
 
 Bene. You take pleasure then in the message ? 699 
 ■ Beat. Yea, just as much as you may take upon a 
 knife's point, and choak a daw withal : — You have 
 110 stoniach, signior j fare you v/ell. [^Exit.. 
 
 Bene. Ha ! Against my will I am sent to bid you come 
 in -to dinner — there's a double meaning in that. / 
 took no more pains for thuse thanks-, than you take pains 
 to thank me — that's as much as to say, Any pains thcit 
 I take for you is as easy as thanks : — If I do not take 
 pity of her, I am a villain j if I do not love her, I 
 am a Jew : I will go get her piftare. \_Exit. 709 
 
 ACT III. SCENE I. 
 
 Continues in the Orchard. Enter Hero, ZVIAR.GARET, 
 and Ursula. 
 
 Hero. 
 
 vjooD IVIargaret, run thee into the parlour j 
 1'iiere sh;dt tliuii lind my cousin Beatrice 
 *' Proposing wivh the prince and Ciaudio ;" 
 
 Whisper
 
 AP. in. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHTNfn'. ^' 
 
 Wliisper her ear, and tell her, I and Ursula 
 Walk ill the orchard, and our whole discotirse 
 Is all of her ; ?ay, that thou overheard'st us j 
 And bid her steal into the pleached bower, 
 *' Where honey-suckles, ripen'd by the sun, 
 *' Forbid the sun to enter ; — -like fa^.^ourites, 
 ** Made proud by princes, thr.t advance their 
 pride jo 
 
 *' Against tl-.at power that bred it : — there will shs 
 
 hide h;;r,'* 
 *ro listen our purpose : This is thy office, 
 Bear thee well in it, and leave us alone. 
 
 Marg. rll make her co:ne, I warrant you, pre- 
 sently. • IK.Mt, 
 
 H^ro, No'.v, Ursula, wlien Beatrice doth come, 
 As we do trace thr^ allty^ up and down, 
 Our talk must only be of Benedick : 
 Vv^hen I do name him., let it be thy part 
 To praise liim m.ore than ever man did vatvX -. 20 
 My talk to thee mi^t be, how Benedick 
 Is sick in love with Beatrice: Of this matter 
 Is little Cupid's crafty arrow made, 
 Tliat only wounds by hear-:ay. Nowbeglh." 
 
 Enter Beatrice, behind. 
 
 For look where Beatrice, like a lapwing, runs 
 Close by ths'ground, to hear our conference. 
 
 Urs. The pleasant*st angling is to see the fish 
 Cut with 'her golden oars the silver stream. 
 And greedily devour the treacheroiis bait : 
 - ■ So
 
 ^8 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. AB III, 
 
 So angle we for Beatrice j who even now 30 
 
 Is couched in the woodbme coverture : 
 Fear you not my part of the dialogue. 
 
 Hero. Then go we near her, that her ear lose no- 
 thing 
 Of the false sweet bait that v/e lay for it. — 
 
 \_Thcy advance to the bower. 
 No, truly, Ursula, she is too disdainful j 
 I know, her spirits are as coy and v/ild 
 As haggards of the rock. 
 
 Urs. But are you sure, 
 That Benedick loves Beatrice so entirely ? 
 
 Hero. So says the prince, and my new-trothed 
 lord. 40 
 
 " Vrs. And did theybid you tell her of it, madam ? 
 
 << Hero.'''' They did intreat me to acquaint her 
 of it : 
 But I persuaded them, if they lov'd Benedick, 
 To wisli him wrestle with affeftion. 
 And never to let.Beatrice know of it. 
 
 Urs. Why did you so ? Doth not the gentleman 
 Deserve as full, as fortunate a bed. 
 As ever Beatrice shall couch upon ? 
 
 Hero. O God of love! I know, he doth deserve 
 As much as may be yielded to a man : 50 
 
 But nature never fram'd a woman's heart 
 Of prouder stulf than that of Beatrice ; 
 Dlsdifinand scorjn ride sparkling in her eyes. 
 Misprising what they look. on j and her wit 
 Values itself so hi^^hly, that to her 
 
 AH
 
 Act3. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING o Scer>^ I. 
 
 JhMiay dfi! SAenttnJc 
 
 .My ^-iBlNGTOJ^ ' en cSe C/iaraccer of BEATRICE. 
 <:/o afiq/eti-e /crrJ:^ea^iC€.-tc'n^ even- 'tww-^ 
 
 I»a<« Iriana. &rj:B«IiaTicifl>ian«rrStraid F<1>/i; VV/SS .
 
 Ac! III. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 49 
 
 All matter else seems weak : she cannot love, 
 
 or take no shape nor project of affection, 
 oiie is so self-endeared. 
 
 Urs. Sure, I tliink so ; 
 And clierefore, certainly, it were not good 60 
 
 She knew his love, lest she make sport at it. 
 
 Hero. Why, you speak truth : I never yet saw 
 man, 
 (iow wise, how noble, young, how rarely featured. 
 But she would spell him backward : if fair-fac'd. 
 She'd swear^ the gentleman should be her sister j 
 If black, why, nature, drawing of an antick. 
 Made a foul blot : if tall, a lance ill-headed j 
 Jf lovv-, an aglet very vilely cut : 
 If speaking, why, a vane blown with all wmds j 
 If silent, why, a block moved With none. jcr 
 
 -So turns she every man the wrong side out ; 
 And never gives to truth and virtue, that 
 "Which simpleness and merit purchaseth. 
 
 Urs. Sure, sure, such carping is not commendable. 
 
 Hero. " No J not to be so odd, and from all 
 fashions, 
 *' As Beatrice is, cannot be commendable :" 
 But who dare tell her so ? If I should speak, 
 She'd mock me into air j O, she would laugh me 
 Out of myself, press me to death v/ith wit. 
 Therefore let Benedick, like covered fire, 80 
 
 Consume away in sighs, waste inwardly : 
 It Avere a better death than die with mocks j 
 " Which is as bad as die with tickling." 
 
 E Urs,
 
 50 MUCH AtlO A^OUr'NOTllrNG. Acl III, 
 
 Urs. Yet tell her of it ; hear what she will say. 
 
 Hero. No ; ratiier I 'will go to Benedick, 
 And counsel him to fight against his passion ; 
 And; truly, I'll devise some honest slanders 
 To stain my coiisin'\Vlth ; one doth not know. 
 How much an ill word may empoison liking. 
 
 UfS. O," do -not do your cousin such a wrong. 90 
 She cannot be so much without true judgment, 
 (Having so switt and excellent a wi't, 
 As ^he is priz'd to have) as to refuse 
 So rare a gentlem.an as signior Benedick. 
 
 " Hero. He is the only man of Italy, 
 •^ Always excepted my de^r Claudio. 
 
 " Urs. I pray you, be not angry with me, madam, 
 *' Srrejtkin-g'my 'fancy ; signior Benedick, 
 ^' For shape, for bearing, argument and valour, 
 «' Goes foremost in report through Italy." 100 
 
 Hero. Indeed; he hath an excellent good name. 
 
 Urs. His excellence did earn it, ere he had it. — . 
 ■Wheii ite you marryM, m-auam ? 
 ' -//(f ;"£).•• Why, 'every day; — to-morrow: Come, go 
 
 in, 
 ril shew thee' some attires ; and have thy counsel. 
 Which 'is the best to furnish me to-morrovv\ 
 
 Urs. She's lim*d, I warrant you ; we have caught 
 •her, madmn. 
 ' ' Hero. 'If it prove so, then loving goes by haps : 
 Some Cupid kills v/ith arrows, some with traps. 109 
 ' [^Exeunt* 
 
 Beatrice
 
 AcillU J;1UCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING ^l 
 
 Beatrice adva n cing. 
 
 Bcji. What fire is in mine ears? Can this be true ? 
 
 Stand I condemird for pride and scorn so 
 iniich ? 
 Contempt, farewel ! and maiden pride, adieu ! 
 
 No glory lives behind the back of such. 
 And, Benedick, love on, I will requite thee ; 
 
 Taming my wild heart to thy loving hand ; \ 
 If thou dost love, my kindness shall incite thee 
 
 To bind our loves up in a holy band : 
 For others say, thou dost deserve j and I 
 Believe it better than reportingly. [£.r,--*. 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 Leoxato's House. Enter Den Pedro, Claudio, 
 Benedick, and Leonato. 
 
 Pedro. I do but stay till your marriage be con- 
 summate, and then go I toward An agon. I'ji 
 
 Claud. I'll brliig you thitlicr, my lord, if you'll 
 vouchsafe me. 
 
 Pedro. Nay, " that would be as great a soil in the 
 *^ new gloss of your marriage, as to shew a child his 
 " new coat, and forbid him to wear it." 1 will only 
 be bold with Benedick for his company; for, from 
 tiie crown of his head to the sole of his foot, he is all 
 mirth ; he hath twice or thrice cut Cupid's bow- 
 string, and the little hangman dare not shoot at him : 
 Eij l:e
 
 53 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. AFt III, 
 
 he hath a heart as sound as a bell, and his tongue is 
 the clapper J for what liis heart thinks, his tongue 
 speaks. 133 
 
 Bene. Gallants, I am not as I have been. 
 
 Leon. So say i 5 methinks, you are sadder. 
 
 Claud. I hope, he be in love. 
 
 Pedro. Hang him, truant 5 there's no true drop 
 of blood in him, to be truly touch'd with love: if 
 he be sad, he wants money. 
 
 Bene. I have the tooth- ach, 140 
 
 Pedro. Draw it. 
 
 Bene. Hang it. 
 
 " Cla.ud. You must hang it first, and draw it after- 
 ^' wards." 
 
 Pedro. What ? sigh for the tooth-ach ? 
 
 Leon. Where is but a humour, or a worm ? 
 
 Bi^ne. Well, Every one can master a grief, but he 
 that has it. 
 
 Claud. Yet say I, he is in love. ^ 149 
 
 *' Pedro. There is no appearance of fancy in him, 
 ** unless it be a fancy that he hath to strange disguises 5 
 *' as to be a Dutch man to-day ; a French man to- 
 " morroAv ; or in the shape of tv/o countries at once j 
 ** as a German from the waist downward, all slops j 
 " and a Spaniard from the hip upward, no doublet : 
 *' Unless he have a fancy to this foolery, as it appears 
 •*' he hath, he is no fool for fancy, as you would 
 ■^' have it to a'opear he is, 
 
 *' Claud,''* If he be not in love with some woman, 
 
 there
 
 Ad III. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 5,3 
 
 there is no believing old signs : he brushes his hat o' 
 mornings : What should that bode? i6i 
 
 *' Pedro. Hath any man seen him at the barber's ? 
 
 *' Claud. No, but the barber's man hath been seen 
 *' with him j and the old ornament oF his cheek hath 
 " already stuff'd tennis-balls. 
 
 *' Lecn. Indeed, he looks younger than he did, by 
 *' the loss of a beard." 
 
 Pedro. Nay, he rubs liimself with civet : Can you 
 smfU him out by that ? 
 
 Claud, That's as much as to say. The sweet youth's 
 in love. 171 
 
 Pedro. The greatest note of it, is his melancholy. 
 
 ," Claud. And Vv-hen was he wont to wash his face ? 
 
 *' Pedro. Yea, or to paint himself? for the which, 
 ** I hear, what they say of him." 
 
 Claud. Nay, but his jesting spirit ; which is now 
 crept into a lute-string, " and now govern'd by 
 " stops." 
 
 Pedro. Indeed, that tells a heavy tale for him : 
 Conclude, conclude he is in love. 180 
 
 Claud. Nay, but I know v/ho loves him, 
 
 Pedro. That would I know too j I warran»t, one 
 that knows him not. 
 
 Claud. Yes, and his ill conditions ; and, in despight 
 of all, dies for him. 
 
 Pedro. She shall be buried with her face upwards. 
 
 Bene. Yet is this no charm for the tooth-ach. — Old 
 
 signior, walk aside -with me j I have studied eight 
 
 E iij or
 
 54 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHIN'G. Acl HI, 
 
 or nine wise words to speak to you, which these 
 
 hobby-horses must not hear. 190 
 
 lExeunt Benedick ajid Lf.onato. 
 
 Pedro. For my lite, to break with him about 
 Beatrice. 
 
 Claud. 'Tis even so : Hero and Margaret liave by 
 this time play'd their parts with Beatrice; and tlieii 
 the two bears will not bite one another, wlieH 
 tliey meet. 
 
 Enter Don John. 
 
 John. My lord and brother, God save you, 
 
 Pedro. Good den, brother. 
 
 yokn. If your leisuie serv'd, I would speak wirh 
 you. SCO 
 
 Pedro. In private ? 
 
 John. If it please you : — yet count Claudio may 
 hear j for what I would speak of, concerns him. 
 
 Pedro. What's the matter ? 
 
 John. Means your lordship to be marry'd to-mor- 
 row ? [7t^ Claudio. 
 
 Pedro. You know, he does. 
 
 John. I know not that, when he knows what I 
 know. 
 
 Claud. If there be any impediment, I pray you, 
 discover it. uii 
 
 John. You may think, I love you not 5 let that 
 appear hereafter, and aim better at me by tJiat I now 
 will manifest : For my brother, I think, he holds you 
 u-ellj and in dearn^^^ of heait hath holp to effe^I:!: 
 
 your
 
 ABIII, MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, 55 
 
 your ensuing marriage: surely, suit ill-spent, and la- 
 bour ill-bestow" d ! 
 
 Pedro, Why, what's the matter ? 
 
 Jclm, I came hither to tell you, and circumstances 
 shortened (for she hath been too long a talking of), 
 the lady is disloyal. 221 
 
 Claud, Who? Hero? 
 
 John. Even she j Leonato's Hero, your Hero, 
 every man's Hero. 
 
 Claud. Disloyal ? 
 
 joun. The vvord is too good to paint out her 
 wickedness ; I could say, she were worse ^ think 
 you of a worse title, and I will tit her to it. ^Von- 
 cler not till further warrant : go but with nie to- 
 night, you stiali see her chamber-window entcr'd j 
 even the night before her wedding-day : if you love 
 her then, to-morrow wed her ; but it would better fit 
 your honour to change your mind. 2^3 
 
 Claud. May this be so ? 
 
 Pedro. I will not think it. — 
 
 John. If you dare not trust that you see, confess 
 not that you know : If you will follow me, 1 will 
 shew you enough : and when you have seen more, 
 and heard more, proceed accuidingly. o'^g 
 
 Claud. If I see any thing to-night wliy I should nut 
 man y her ; to-morrow, in the congi c-g.ition, where 
 I should wed, there will I shame her, 
 
 Pedro. And, as I wooed for thee to obtain her, I 
 will join with thee to disgrace litr. 
 
 John, X will disparage h^r no fai^her, till you are 
 
 my
 
 56 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHlNC AElllU 
 
 my witnesses : bear it coldly but till midnight, and 
 let the issue shew itself. 
 
 " Pedro. O day untowardly turned ! 
 
 " Claud. O mischief strangely thwarting! 
 
 *' John. O plague right well prevented! 2^^ 
 
 ** So you will say, when you have seen the sequel." 
 
 [ ExeunU 
 
 SCENE III, 
 
 The Street. Enter Dogberry and Verges, with the 
 
 Watch. '. 
 
 Dogb. Are you good men and true ? 
 
 Verg. Yea, or else it v/ere pity but they should 
 suffer salvation, body and soul. 
 
 Dogb. Nay that were a punishment too good for 
 them, if they should have any allegiance in them, 
 being chosen for the prince's watch. 
 
 Verg, Well, give them their charge, neighbour 
 Dogberry. 
 
 Dogb. First, who think you the most desartless 
 man to be constable ? 261 
 
 1 Watch. Hugh Oatcake, sir, or George Seacoal 5 
 for they can write and read. 
 
 Dogb. Come hither, neighbour Seacoal : God hath 
 bless'd you with a good name : to be a well-favour'd 
 man is the gift of fortune j but to write and read 
 comes by nature, 
 
 2 Watch.
 
 ABIII. MUCK ADO ABOXJT NOTHIXG'. 57 
 
 2 IVatch. Both which, master constable, 268 
 
 Dogb. You have ; I knew it would be your an- 
 swer. Well, for your favour, sir, why, give God 
 thanks, and make no boast of it ; and for your writ- 
 ing and reading, let that appear when there is no 
 need of such vanity. You are thought here to be 
 the most senseless and lit man for the constable of 
 the watch ; therefore bear you the lantern : This 
 is your charge j you shall compreriend all vagrora 
 men ; you are to bid any man stai.d, in the prince's 
 name. 
 
 2 IVatch. How if he will not stand ? 
 
 Dogb. Why then, take no note of him, but let him 
 go ; and presently call the rest of the watch together, 
 and thank God you are rid of a knave. 282 
 
 I'erg. If he will not stand when he is bidden, he is 
 none of the prince's' subjects. 
 
 Dogb. True, and they are to meddle with none but 
 the prince's subjecls : — You shall also make no noise 
 in the streets ; for, for the watch to babble and talk, 
 is m.ost tolerable and not to be endur'd. 
 
 2 Watck. We will rather sleep than talk ; we know 
 what belongs to a watch. 290 
 
 Dogb. Why, you speak like an ancient and most 
 quiet watchman} for I cannot see how sleeping 
 ihould ol-fend : orJy, have a care that your bills be 
 not stolen ! — Well, you are to call at all the ale-houses, 
 and bid them that are drunk get them to bed. 
 
 2 Watch. How if they will not ? 
 
 Dogb. Why then, let them alone till they are sober -5 
 
 if
 
 ,58 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. Acl IIL 
 
 if they^ make you not then the better answer, you 
 may say, they are not the men you took them for, 
 
 2 Watck. Well, sir. goo 
 
 Dogb. If you meet a thief, you may suspeft him, 
 by virtue of your ofnce, to be no true man j and, for 
 such kind of men, the less you meddle or make with 
 them, why the more is for your honesty. 
 
 2 Watch. If we know him to be a thief, shall we 
 not lay hands on him ? 
 
 Dogb. Truly, by your ofSce you mayj but I 
 think, they that touch pitch will be defild : the 
 most peaceable way for you, if you do take a thief, 
 is, to let him shew himself what he is, and steal out 
 of your company. 311 
 
 yerg. You have always been calFd a merciful man, 
 partner. 
 
 Dogb. Truly, I would not hang a dog by my 
 will 5 much mere a man who hath any honesty in 
 him. 
 
 ^''erg. If you hear a child cry in the night, you must 
 call to the nurse, and bid her still it. 
 
 2 Watch. How if the nurse be asleep, and will not 
 hear us ? 320 
 
 Dcgb, Why then, depart in peace, and let the 
 child wake her with crying : for the ewe that will not 
 }iear her lamb wl-en it baes, will never answer a calf 
 wlien lie bkats. 
 
 I'^trg. 'Tis very true. 
 
 Dogb. This is the end of the charge.- You, con- 
 £tible, are to present the prince's own person ; if 
 
 you
 
 AEl IIL MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 59 
 
 you meet the prince in the night, you may stay him. 
 
 Verg. Nay, by'rlady, that, I think, he cannot. 329 
 
 Dogb. Five shillings to one on't, with any man that 
 knows the statues, he may stay him -. marry, not with- 
 out the prince be willing : for, indeed, the watch 
 ought to offend no man j and it is an offence to stay 
 a man against his will. 
 
 Verg. By'rlady, T think, it be so. 
 
 Dogb. Ha, ha, ha! Well, masters, good niglit : 
 an there be any matter of weight chances, call up me : 
 keep your fellows' counsels and your own, d good 
 night. — Come, neighbour. 339 
 
 2 IVatch. Well, masters, w^e hear our charge : let 
 us go sit here upon the church-bench till two, and 
 then all to bed. 
 
 Dcgh. One word more, honest neighbours : I pray 
 you, watch about signior Leonato's doorj for the 
 wedding being there to-morrow, there is a great coil 
 to-night : Adieu, be vigilant, I beseech you. 
 
 [ Exeunt Dogberry and V^ e r g L s . 
 
 Enter Borachio and COiNRADE. 
 
 Bora. What! Conrade,— 
 
 Watch. Peace, stir not. [Aside, 
 
 Bora. Conrade, I say I 
 
 Conr. Here man, I am at thy elbow. 3,50 
 
 Bora. Mass, and my elbow itch'd j I thought, 
 tliere would a scab follow. 
 
 << Conr. I will owe thee an answer for that ; and 
 <« now forward with thy tale, 
 
 « Bvra.'*
 
 6o MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. AB: III. 
 
 *' Bora.'"' Stand thee close then under this pent- 
 house, for it drizzles rainj and I will, like a true 
 drunkard, utter all to thee. 
 
 JVatck. \_ Aside. ^ Some treason, masters ; yet stand 
 close. 
 
 Bora. Therefore know, I have earned of Don John 
 a thousand ducats. 361 
 
 Conr. Is it possible that any villainy sliould be so 
 dear ? 
 
 Bora. Thou should'st rather ask, if it were possible 
 any villainy should be so rich -. for when rich villains 
 have need of poor ones, poor ones may make what 
 price they will. 
 
 Conr. I wonder at it. 
 
 Bora. That shews, thou art unconfirm'd: Thou 
 knowest, that the fashion of a doublet, or a hat, or 
 u cloak, is nothing to a man. 371 
 
 Conr. Yes, it is apparel. 
 
 Bora. I mean, the fashion. 
 . Conr, Yes, the fashion is the fashion. 
 
 Bora. Tush ! I may as well say, the fool's the fool. 
 But see'st thou not, what a deformed thief this fashion 
 is? 
 
 JVatch. I know that Deformed ; he has been a vile 
 thief these seven year ; he goes up and down like a 
 gentleman : I jemember his name. 380 
 
 Bora. Didst thou not hear some body ? 
 
 Conr. No ; 'twas the vane on the house. 
 
 Bora. Seest thou not, I say, what a deformed thief 
 this fashion is ? how giddily he turns about all the 
 
 hot
 
 Aci III, MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 6l 
 
 hot bloods, between fourteen and five and thirty ? 
 *' sometime, fashioning them like Pharaoh's soldiers 
 *< in the reechy painting ; sometime, like god Bel's 
 " priests in the old church window ; sometime, like 
 *' the shaven Hercules in the smirch'd wcrrm-eatcn 
 ** tapestry, where his cod-piece seems as massy as his 
 *' club ?" 391 
 
 Conr. *' All this I see j and see, that the fashion 
 " wears out more apparel than the man : But"' art 
 not thou thyself giddy with the fashion too, that thou 
 hast shifted out of thy tale into telling me of the 
 fashion ? 
 
 Bora. Not so neither : but know, that I have to- 
 night v.'ooed Margaret, the lady Hero's gentlewoman, 
 by the name of Hero : she leans me out at her 
 mistress's chamber-window, bids me a thousand times 
 goodnight — I tell this tale vilely : — I should first tell 
 thee, how the prince, Claudio, and my master, 
 planted and placed, and possessed by my master Don 
 John, saw afar off in the orchard this amiable en- 
 counter. 4Cj^ 
 
 Conr. And thought they, Margaret was Hero ? 
 
 Bara. Two of them did, the prince and Claudio ; 
 but the devil my master knew she was Margaret; 
 *•' and partly by his oaths, which first possess'd them, 
 ** partly by the dark night, which did deceive them, 
 ** but chiefly by my villainy, which did confirm any 
 *' slander that Don John had made," away went 
 Claudio enraged; swore he would meet her, ashewa?* 
 appointed, next morning at the temple, and therc.. 
 F bciortf
 
 62 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING.' AclIIl. 
 
 before the whole congregation, shame her with what 
 he saw o'er night, and send her home again without 
 a husband. 
 
 1 Watch. We charge you in the prince's name, 
 stand. 419 
 
 2 IVatck. Call up the right master constable: 
 We have here recovered the most dangerous piece 
 of lechery that ever was known in the connnon- 
 wealth. 
 
 1 Watch. And one Deformed is one of them j I 
 know him, he wears a lock. 
 
 Conr. Masters, masters. — 
 
 2 Watch. You'll be made bring Deformed forth, I 
 warrant you . 
 
 Conr> Masters,— 
 
 1 Watch. Never speak j we charge you, let us obey 
 you to go with us. 431 
 
 Bora. We are like to prove a goodly commodity, 
 being taken up of these men's bills. 
 
 " Conr. A commodity in question, I warrant you. 
 Come, we'll obey you." [Exeunt, 
 
 SCEXE IF, 
 
 An Apartment in Leoxato's House. Enter Hero, 
 Margaret, and Ursula. 
 
 " Hero. Good Ursula, wake my cousin Beatrice, 
 ** and desire her to rise. 
 *' Urj. I will, lady, 
 
 «' Her§,
 
 Jcllll. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 63 
 
 *•• Hero. And bid her come hither. 
 
 *' Urs. Well." [^Exit Ursula. 440 
 
 M(r-g. Troth, I think, your other rubato were 
 better. 
 
 Ihro. No, prav thee, good Meg, I'll wear this. 
 
 Marg. By my troth, it's not so good j and I war- 
 rant, your cousin will say so. 
 
 Hero. My consin's a. fool, and thou art anotlier ; 
 ril wear none but this. 
 
 Marg. I like the new tire within excellently, *' if 
 ** tlie hair were a thought browner}" and your 
 goun's a most rare fashion, i'faith, I saw the 
 dutchess of Milan's gown, that they praise so. 451 
 
 <' Hero. O, that exceeds, they say. 
 
 ** Marg. By my troth, it's but a night-gown in 
 *' respeft of yours : Cloth of gold, and cuts, and 
 ** lac'd with silver; set with pearls, down sleeves, 
 ** side sleeves, and skirts round, underbornc with a 
 .** blueish tinsel :" but for a fine, quaint, graceful, 
 and excellent fashion, yours is worth ten on't. 
 
 Hero. God give me joy to wear it, for my heart is 
 eiiiceeding heavy ! 
 
 Marg. 'Twill be heavier soon, by the weight of a 
 nian. 
 
 H'^ro. Fie upon thee ! art not asham'd ? 
 
 ** Marg, Of what, lady ? of speaking honour- 
 *' ably ? Is not marriage honourable in a beggar ? Is 
 *' not your lord honourable without marriage ? I 
 •.^^ think you would have nie say, saving your reve- 
 ** rence, — a husband : an bad thinking do ngt wrest 
 F ij " true
 
 ^4 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. AEl III. 
 
 *' true speaking, I'll offend nobody : Is there any harm 
 " in — the heavier for a husband? None, I think, an it 
 ** be the right husband, and the right wife ; other- 
 ** v/ise, 'cis light, and not heavy : Ask my lady 
 ** Beatrice else, here she comes." 473 
 
 Enter Beatrice. 
 
 Hero. Good morrow, coz. 
 
 Beat. Good morrow, sweet Hero. 
 
 Hero. Why, how now ! do you speak in the sick 
 tune ? 
 
 Beat. I am out of all other tune, methinks. 
 
 *' Marg. Clap us into Light 0' Love ; that goes 
 " without a burden j do you sing it, and Til dance 
 *' it. 481 
 
 *' Beat. Yea, Light d'Love^ with your heels ! — then 
 ** if your husband have stables enough, you'll look he 
 *' shall iac> no barns. 
 
 " Marg. O illegitimate construcllon I I scorn tliat 
 « — ^with my heels. 
 
 ** Beat.'''' 'Tis almost five o'clock, cousin ; 'tis time 
 you were ready. By my troth, I am exceeding ill ;— 
 hey ho I 
 
 Marg. For a hawk, a horse, or a husband ? 490 
 
 " Beat. For the letter that begins them all, H. 
 
 " Marg. Well, an you be not turned Turk, there's 
 *' no more sailing by the star 
 
 " Beat. What means the fool, trow ? 
 
 " Marg. Nothing I } but God send every one their 
 ** lieart's desire 1 ^ 
 
 " Hero,
 
 AclIII. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 63 
 
 *« Hero. These gloves t|,ie count sent me, they are 
 *' an excellent perfume. 
 
 '* Beat. I am stuff'd, cousin, I cannot smell. 
 
 " Marg. A maid, and stuff'd! there's goodly catch- 
 ** ing of cold. 501 
 
 *' Beat. O, God help me! God help me ! how long 
 *' have you professd apprehension ? 
 
 *< Marg. Ever since you left it 3 Doth not my wit 
 *< become me rarely ?"' 
 
 Beat. *' It is not seen enough, you should wear it 
 *' in your cap." — By my troth, I am sick. 
 
 Marg. Get you some of this distill'd Carduus Be- 
 nediclus, and lay it to your heart j it is the only 
 thing for a qualm. 510 
 
 *' Hero. There thou prick'st her with a thistle." 
 
 Beat. Benediclus ! why Benediftus r you have 
 some- moral in this Eeneditilus. 
 
 Marg. Moral ? no by iny troth, I have no moral 
 meaning ; I meant, plain holy-tliistle. You may 
 think, perchance, that I think you are in love : nay, 
 by'rlady, I am not such a fool to think wh^t I list ; 
 nor I list not to think what I can j nor, indeed, I 
 cannot think, if I would think my heart out o' think- 
 ing, tliat you are in love, or that you will be in 
 love, or that you can be in love : yet Benedick was 
 such another, and now is he become a man : he swore 
 he would never marry ; and yet now, in de^pight of 
 his heart, he eats his meat without grudging : and 
 how you may be converted, 1 know not : but, 
 F i i j methinks.
 
 66 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. Acl III, 
 
 methinks, you look with your eyes as other women 
 do. 
 
 Beat. What pace is tliis that tliy tongue keeps ? 
 
 Marg. Not a false gallop. 529 
 
 Re-enter Ursula, 
 
 Urs. Madam, withdraw 5 the prince, the count, 
 signior Benedick, Don John, and all the gallants of 
 the town, are come to fetch you to church. 
 
 Hero. Help to dress me, good coz, good Meg, 
 good Ursula. [^Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE V. 
 
 Another Apartment in Leon a jo's House. Enter 
 
 LeONATO, XVlth DOGBERP.Y C««' VERGES. 
 
 Leon. What would you have with me, honest 
 neighbour ? 
 
 Dogb. Marry, sir, I would have some confidence 
 with you, that decerns you nearly. 
 
 Leon. Brief, I pray you 5 for you see, 'tis a busy 
 time with me. 540 
 
 Dogb. Marry, tliis it i:, sir. 
 
 Vcrg. Yes, in truth it is, sir. 
 
 Leon. What is it, my good friends ? 
 
 Dogb. Goodman Verges, sir, speaks a little of the 
 matter : an old man, sir, and his wits are not so 
 blunt, as, God help, I would desire they were j but, 
 in faith, honest, as the skin between his browG.
 
 ABltl: MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 67 
 
 Verp-. Yes, I thank God, I am as honest as any 
 man hving, that is an old man, and no honester 
 t]ian r. 5.53 
 
 Dogb. Comparisons are odorous : palabrasj neigh- 
 bour Verges. 
 
 Leon. Neighbours, you are tedious. 
 
 Dogb. It pleases your worship to say so, but we 
 are the poor duke's oincers; but, truly, for min^ 
 own part, if I were as tedious as a king, i could fin(i 
 in my heart to bestow it all of your worship. 
 
 Leon. All thy tediousness on me ! ha ! 5.38 
 
 Dogb. Yea, and 'twere a thousand times more -tliatt 
 *tis : for I hear as good exclamation on your worship, 
 as of any man in the city ; and tliough I be but a poor 
 man, I am glad to hear it. 
 
 Verg. And £0 am L 
 
 Leon. I would fain know v.liat you have to say. 
 
 Verg^ A'larry, sir, our watch to-night, excepting 
 your worthip's presence, hath taen a couple of as 
 arrant knaves as any in Messina. 
 
 Dogb. A good old man, sir ; lie will be talking ; 
 as they say. When the age is in, the wit is out ; God 
 help us ! it is a world to see ! — Well said, i'faith, 
 ne-ghbour Verges :— well, God's a good man ; ail 
 two men ride of a horse, one tuust ride behind :— i 
 An honest soul, i'faith, sir ; by my troth he is, as 
 CTcr broke bread : but, God is to be worshipp'd 5 
 All men are not alike ; alas good neighbour! r^j^ 
 
 Leon. Indeed, nrighbour, hf comes too short of 
 ycu,
 
 €8 WUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. Acl III. 
 
 Dogh. Gifts, tliat God gives. 
 • Leon. I must leave you. 
 
 .. Dogb. One word, sir : our watcii liave, indeed, 
 comprehended two aspicious persons, and we would 
 have them this morning examin'd before your wor- 
 ship. 
 
 < Leon. Take their examination yourself, and bring 
 it me ; I am now in great haste, as may appear unto 
 you. 
 
 Dogb. It shall be suffigance. 
 r L-con. Drink some wine ere you go : fare you 
 well. 589 
 
 ** Enter a Messenger. 
 
 *' Mess. My lord, they stay for you to give your 
 ** daughter to her husband. 
 
 **.Leon. I will wait upon them ; I am ready." 
 
 [Exit Leonato. 
 .. , Dogb. Go, good partner, go, get you to Francis 
 Seacoal, bid him bring his pen and inkhorn to the 
 jail; we are now to examination these men, 
 . f^c^'g- And we must do it wisely. 
 . Dogb. We will spare for no wit, I warrant you j 
 here's that [touching /i is fore he ad^ shall drive some of 
 them to a non-com : only get the learned writer to 
 set down our excommunication, and meet me at the 
 jail. [Exeunt. 601 
 
 ACT
 
 AEl IV. MUCH ADO ABOL'T NOTHING. C^ 
 
 ACT IV. SCENE I. 
 
 A Church. Evter Don Pedro, Don John, Leonato, 
 Friar^ Claudio, Benedick, Her.0, and Bea- 
 trice. 
 
 Leon. 
 
 1^0 ME, friar Francis, be brief; only to the plara 
 form of marriage, and you shall recount their parti- 
 cular duties aftei-w'ards. 
 
 Friar. You come hither, my lord, to marr^' this 
 lady ? 
 
 Claud. No. 
 
 -Leon. To be marr)-'d to her, friar ; you come to 
 marry her. 
 
 Friar. Lady, you come hither to be marry'd to tl\is 
 count ? lo 
 
 Hero. I do. 
 
 Friar. If either of you know any inward impedi- 
 ment why you should not be conjoined, I charge you, 
 on your souls, to utter it. 
 
 Claud. KjiOW yoii any, Hero ? 
 
 Hero. None, my lord. 
 
 Friar. Know you any, count ? 
 
 Leon'. I dare make his answer, none. 
 
 Claud. O what men dare do i wliat men may do'! 
 what 
 Men daily do 1 " not knowing what they do !" 2o 
 
 Beyu. How now ! Interjedions ? '* Why, then 
 *' some be of laugliing, as, ha! ha! lie!" 
 
 Claud,
 
 ^ MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. Acl IV. 
 
 Claud. Stand thee by, friar : — Father, by your 
 leave ; 
 Will you with free and unconstrained soul 
 .Give me this maid your daughter ? 
 
 Leon. As freely, son, as God did give Iier me. 
 Claud. And Avhat have I to give you back, whose 
 worth 
 May counterpoise this rich and precious gift ? 
 Pedro. Nothing, unless you render her again. 
 Claud. Sweet prince, you learn me noble tliankful- 
 ness.-r- 30 
 
 There, Lconato, take her back again ; 
 *' Give not this rotten orange to your friend :" 
 »She's but the sign and semblance of her honour :^. 
 Behold, how like a maid she blushes here : 
 ■O, what authority and shew of truth 
 Can cunning sin cover itself withal ! 
 ** Comes not that blood, as modest evidence, • 
 -*' To witness simple virtue ? Would you not swear, 
 <*< All you that see her, that she were a maid, 
 ** By these exterior shews > But she is none :" 40 
 She knows the heat of a luxurious bed : 
 Her blush is guiltiness, not modesty. 
 Leon. What do you mean, my lord ? 
 Claud > Not to be marry'd, not knit my soul 
 ■ To an approved wanton. 
 
 Leon. Dear my lord, 
 If you in your own proof, 
 Have vanquished the resistance of her youth, 
 
 And made. defeat of her virginity, ^ 
 
 Claud*
 
 Acl ir. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHIN'G. 71- 
 
 Claud. " I know what you would say ; if I have 
 known her, ^o 
 
 *' You'll say, siie did embrace me as a husband, 
 *' And so extenuate the forehand sin :'* 
 No, Leonato, 
 
 I never tempted her with word too large ; 
 But, as a brother to his sister, shew'd 
 Bashful sincerity and comely love. 
 
 Hero. And seem'd I ever otherwise to vou ? 
 
 Claud. Out on thy seeming ! I will write against it : 
 You seem to me as Dian in her orb ; 
 As chaste as is the bud ere it be blown ; 60 
 
 But you are more intemperate in your blood 
 Than Venus, or those pamperd animals 
 That rage in savage sensuality. 
 
 Hero. Is my lord well, that lie doth speak so wide ? 
 
 Leon. Sweet prince, why speak not you ? 
 
 Pedro. What should I speak ? 
 I stand dishonoured, that have gone about 
 To link my dear friend to a common stale. 
 
 Leon. Are these things spoken, or do I but 
 dream ? 
 
 John. Sir, they are spoken, and these things are 
 true. 70 
 
 Bene. This looks not like a nuptial. 
 
 Hero. True, O God! 
 
 Claud. Leonato, stand I here ? 
 Is this the prince ? Is this the prince's brotlier ? 
 Is this face Hero's \ Are our eves our own ? 
 
 Leon. Ail this is so ; But what of this, my lord > 
 
 ClauU,
 
 5?g MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING- A£l IF, 
 
 Claud. Let me but move one question to your 
 daughter ; 
 And, by that fatherly and kindly power 
 That you have in her, bid her answer truly. jg 
 
 Leon. I charge thee do so, as thou art my child. 
 
 Hero. O Ged defend me ! how I am beset I — • 
 What kind of catechizing call you this ? 
 
 Claud. To make you answer truly to your name. 
 
 Hero. I& it not Hero ? Who can blot that name 
 "Vyith any just reproach ? 
 
 Claud. Marry, that can Hero ; 
 Hero itself can blot out Hero's virtue. 
 What mart was he talkM with you yesternight 
 Out at your window, betwixt twelve and one ? 
 Now, if you are a maid, answer to this. go 
 
 Hero. I talk'd with no mail at that hour, my lord. 
 
 Pedro. " Why, then you are no maiden." — . 
 Leonato, 
 I am sorry, you must hear j Upon niine honour. 
 Myself, my brot?TeT, and this grieved count, 
 IXd see her, hear her, at tliat hour last night. 
 Talk with a ruffian at lier chamber window ; 
 Who hath, indeed, most like a liberal villain, 
 Confess'd tlie vile encounters they have ha4 
 A thousand times in secret. 
 
 John. Fie, fie ! they are loo 
 
 Not to be nam'd, my lord, not to be spoke of; 
 There is not chastity, enough in language, 
 Without offence, to utter them : Tlius, pretty lady, 
 I AiXi sorry for thy much misgovernment. 
 
 Claud.
 
 Frinted for J.Bell^ritah Libtary,Strand,Londcm,?J'CTv? 16*1^84.
 
 Aci IV. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHINQ. ^'3 
 
 Claud. O Kero \ what a Hero hadst thou been 
 If half thy outward graces had been plac'd 
 About the thoughts and counsels of thy Iieart ! 
 But, fare thee well, most foul, most fair! farewel, -. 
 " Thou pure impiety, and impious purity T' 
 For thee I'll lock up all the gates of love, i lo 
 
 And on my eye-lids shall conjecture hang, 
 To turn all beauty into thoughts of harm. 
 And never shall it more be gracious. 
 
 Lccn. Hath no man's dagger here a point for me ? . 
 
 Beat. Why, how now, cousin, wherefore sink you 
 r? down? [YI-ero szeoons-. 
 
 John. Come, let us go : these things, come thus to 
 light, 
 Smother her spirits up. 
 
 \_Excunt Don Pedro, Don John:, and Claudio. 
 
 Bene. How doth the lady ? 
 
 Beat. Dead, I think ; — Help, uncle ; — 
 Herp! why, Hero !— uncle !—-Signior Benedick !— 
 friar ! i oc 
 
 Leon. O fate ! take not away tliy heavy hand ! 
 X)eath is the fairest cover for her sliame, 
 That may be wish'd for. 
 
 Beat. How now, cousin Hero ? 
 
 Friar. Hrive comfort, lady. 
 
 Leon. Dost thou look up r 
 
 Friar., Yea ; Wherefore, should she not ? 
 
 L4:on. Wherefore? Why, dotli not every eartlily 
 thing 
 Cry shall le upon lier ? Could she here deny 
 
 G T).^
 
 74 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. AFt IV. 
 
 Tlie story that is printed in her blood ? — 130 
 
 ** Do not live, Hero ; do not ope thine eyes : 
 
 *' For did I think, thou wouldst net quickly die, 
 
 *' Thought I, thy spirits were stronger than thy 
 
 shames, 
 ** Myself would, on the rearward of reproaches, 
 ** Strike at thy life." Griev'd I, I had but one ? 
 Chid I for that at frugal nature's frame : 
 O, one too much by thee ! " Why had I one ? 
 ** Why ever wast thou lovely in my eyes ? 
 •* Why had I not, with charitable hand, 
 ** Took up a beggar's issue at my gates ; 140 
 
 •♦ Wlio smeared thus, and mir'd with infamy, 
 ** I might have said, No part of it is miiify 
 ** 'This shame derives itself Jr am unknown loins ? 
 •* But mine, and mine I lov\i, and mine I prais'd, 
 *' And mine tliat I was proud on ; mine so much, 
 ** That I myself was to myself not mine, 
 •* Valuing of licr ; why, she" — O, siie, is fallen 
 Into a pit of ink ! that the wide sea 
 Hath drops too few to wash her clean again ; 
 ** And salt too little, which may season give j^o 
 
 «• To her foul tainted flesh '/' 
 
 Bene. Sir, sir, be patient : 
 For my part, I am so attir'd in wonder, 
 I know not what to say. 
 
 Beat. O, on my soul, my cousin is bely'd? 
 
 Bene. Lady, were you her bedfellow last night ? 
 
 Beat. No, truly, not ; although, until last night, 
 I have this twelvemonth been her bedfellow. 
 
 4,^ Leon.',
 
 Aci IV, MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 7^ 
 
 Leon. Confirm'd, confirmd ! O, that is stronger 
 made, 
 Which was before barr'd up with ribs of iron ! 160 
 Would the two princes lie f and Claudio lie ? 
 Who lov'd her so, th;it, speaking of her foulness, 
 Washed it with tears ? Hence from her ; let her die. 
 
 Friar. Hear me a little ; 
 For I have only been silent so long, 
 And given way unto this course of fortune, 
 By noting of the lady ; I have mark'd 
 A thousand blushing apparitions 
 To start into her face ; a thousand innocent shame* 
 In angel whiteness bear away those blushes ; 170 
 
 And in her eye there hatli appeard a fire. 
 To burn the errors tliat tliese princes hold 
 Against her maiden truth : — Call me a fool; 
 Trust not my reading, nor my observation, 
 *' Wliich with experimental seal doth warrant 
 *' The tenour of my book ; trust not my age," 
 My reverence, calling, nor divinity, 
 If this sweet lady lie not guiltless here 
 Under some biting error. 
 
 Leon. Friar, it cannot be : 180 
 
 Thou seest, that all the grace that she hath left. 
 Is, that she will not add to her damnation 
 -A sin of perjury; she not denies it : 
 Why seek'st thou then to cover with excuse 
 That, which appears in proper nakedness ? 
 
 Friar. Lady, what man is lie you are accus'd of? 
 G i j Hcrfi,
 
 f5 IVlUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING'. AB IV* 
 
 ■ Hero. They know, that do accuse me; I know 
 
 none : 
 If -I know more of any man alive, 
 Than that which maiden modesty doth warrant, 
 i.et all my sins lack mercy ! — O my father, 190 
 
 Prove- you that any man with me convers'd 
 At hours unmeet, or that I yesternight 
 Maintain'd the change of words with any creature. 
 Refuse m«,' hate me, torture me to death. 
 
 Friar. There is some strange m.isprision in the 
 princes. 
 
 'Bene. Two of them have the very bent of honour; 
 And if their wisdoms be misled in this, 
 The praftice of it lives in John the bastard, 
 "Whose spirits toil in frames of villainies. 199 
 
 Lecn. I know not; If they speak but truth of her. 
 These hands shall tear her; if they wrong her lio- 
 
 nour, 
 The proudest of them shall well hear of it. * 
 
 *' Time hath not- yet so dry'd this blood of mine, 
 *' Nor age so eat up my invention, 
 *' Nor fortune made such havock of my means, 
 *' -Nor my bad life reft mte so much of friends, 
 *' But they shall find,' awak'd in suxh a kind, 
 *' Both strength of limb, and policy of mind, 
 *' Ability in means, and choice of friends, 
 ** To quif me of them throughly." 210 
 
 Friar. Pause awhile. 
 And let my counsel sway you in this case. 
 ^'Gur daughter here the pwnces left for dead ; 
 
 Let
 
 AFtlV. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING* 77 
 
 Let her awhile be secretly kept in, 
 
 And pubhsli it, that she is dead indeed : 
 
 *' Maiiitain a mourning ostentation ; 
 
 *' And on your family's old monument 
 
 ** Hang mournful epitaph.s, and do all rites 
 
 ** Tliat appert:iin unto a burial." 
 
 Leon. Wluit shall become of this > What will this 
 
 do? 220 
 
 Filar. Marry, tlus, well carry'd, shall on her be- 
 half 
 Change slander to remorse ; " that is some good :'* 
 But not for that, dream I on tliis strange course. 
 But on this travail look for greater birth. 
 She d\ing, as it must be so maintain'd. 
 Upon tlie instant that she was accused, 
 Shall be lamented, pity'd, and excLis"d, 
 Of every hearer; ** For it so fails out, 
 ** That what we have vre prize not to tiie worth, 
 <* Whiles we enjoy it ; but being lack'd and lost, » sij 
 ** Why, then we rack the value ; then we find 
 <* The virtue, that possession would not. shew us 
 <^ Whiles it was ours : — So will it fare with Claudio : 
 ** When he shall hear she dy'd upon his words, 
 *' The idea of her life shall sweetly creep 
 ** Into his study of imagination; 
 *' And every lovely organ of her life 
 *' Shall come apparel'd in more precious habit, 
 *' More moving, delicate, and full of life, 
 ** Into the eye and prospect of his soul, S4<» 
 
 ** Than wheti she liv'd indeed : — then shall he mourn 
 Giij *'(If
 
 ^8 tlUCH ADO ABOUT NO'THING. AclIV, 
 
 *' (If ever love had interest in his Hver), 
 
 *' And wish he liad not so accused her ; 
 
 *' No, though he thought his accusation true. 
 
 ** Let this be so, and doubt not but success 
 
 *' Will fasfiion the- event in better shape 
 
 *' Than I can lay it down in likelihood. 
 
 *' But if all aim but this be levell'd false, 
 
 *' The supposition of the lady's death 
 
 '* Will quench the v/onder of her infamy : 550 
 
 ^' And, if it sort not well, you may conceal her 
 
 ** (As best befits her wounded reputation) '^ 
 
 *' In«some reclusive and religious life, 
 
 *' Out of alh^yes, tongues, minds, and injuries/' ' 
 
 Bene. Signior Leonato, let the friar advise you : 
 And though, you know my inwardness and love ' 
 Is very much unto the prince and Claudio, 
 Yet, by mine honour, I will deal in this 
 As secvetly, and justly, as your .soul 
 Shbuid with your body. 260 
 
 Lcoii. Being that I flow in grief, 
 The 'smallest -twine may lead me. 
 ' Friar. 'Tis well consented ; presently away ; 
 
 * <« For to'strange sores strangely they strain the 
 cure — '' 
 Come, lady, die to live : this i//edding day, 
 
 perhaps, is but prolonged 5 have patience, and 
 t^;:^ pndure. \^Exeunt. 
 
 Maiicnt
 
 JellK MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. y^ 
 
 Mane?it Bexedick and Beatp.ice. 
 
 Bene. Lady Beatrice, have you wept all this wliile ? 
 
 Beat. Yea, and I will weep a while longer. 
 
 Bene. I will not desire that. 
 
 Beat. You have no reason, I do it freely. 270 
 
 Bene. Surely, I do believe your fair cousin is 
 wrong' d. 
 
 Beat. Ah, how mi!ch might the man deserve of me, 
 that would right her ! 
 '- Bene. Is there any v/ay to shew such friendship ? 
 
 Beat. A very even way,, but no such friend. ' 
 
 Bene. May a man do it ? 
 
 Beat. It is a man's ofiice, but not yours. 
 
 Bene. I do love nothing in the world so well as you : 
 Is not that strange ? 279 
 
 Beat. As strange as the thing I know not : It wer6 
 as possible for me to say, 1 loved nothing so well as 
 you : but believe me not ; and yet I lie not ; I con- 
 fess nothing, nor I deny nothing :— I am sorry for my 
 cousin. 
 
 Bene. By my sword, Beatrice, thou lov'st me. 
 
 Beat. Do not swear by it, and eat it. 
 • Be?i(;^. I will swear by it, that you love me ; and I 
 will make him eat it, that says, I love not you. 
 
 Beat. "\Vill you not eat your word ? 
 
 Bene. With no sauce that can be devis'd to it: I 
 ^irotest I love thee. oyj 
 
 Beat. V/hy then, God forgive me ! 
 • Bine. What oifence, sweet Beatrice ? 
 
 3 ^<at.
 
 8o MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ASllV. 
 
 Beat. You have staid me In a happy hour; I was 
 about to protest I lov'd you, 
 
 Bene. And do it with all tiiy heart. 
 
 Beat. I love you with so mucl^ of my lieart, tliat 
 none is left to protest. 
 
 Bene. Cpitie, bid me do any th.iiig for thee. 
 
 Beat. Kill Claudio. _ 300 
 
 Bcrie. Ha ! not for the wide world. 
 
 Beat. You kill me to deny it : Farewel. 
 
 Bene. Tarry, sweet Beatrice. 
 
 Beat, I am gone, though I am licre ; — There is na 
 love in you: — nay, I pray you, let nie go. 
 
 Bene. Beatrice, — 
 
 Beat, in, faith, I will go. 
 
 Berie. We'll be friends lir>t. 
 
 Beat. You dare easier be friends with me, than fi;r|it 
 tvith min-? enemy. 310 
 
 Bene. Is Claudio thine enemy ? 
 
 Be<Jt. Is lie not approved in the height a villain, that 
 hath tkmder'd, scjrn'd, dishonoured my kinswoman ? 
 — O, tliat I v.ere a man ! — What, bear her in hand 
 imtil.tJieytome to take hands ; aini then with public 
 accusation, uncover'd slander, unmitigated rancour, 
 • — O Ood, that I were a man ! I would eat his heart 
 in tlie .market-place. 
 
 Bene. Hear me, Beatrice. 
 
 Beat. Talk vn ith a man out ;U a window ?— -a proper 
 saying! ^^\ 
 
 Btne. Nay, but Beatrice i—
 
 AclIV. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 8f 
 
 Beat. Sweet Hero! — she is wrongM, she is slan- 
 dered, she is undone. 
 
 Bene. Beat — . 
 
 -6^^^.. Princes and counties! Surely, a princely tes- 
 timony, a goodly ccunt-comfecl ; a sv/eet gallant, 
 surely ! O that I were a man for his sake ! or that 1 
 liad any friend would be a man for my sake ! But 
 manhood is melted into courtesies, valour into com » 
 pliment, and men are only turned into tongue, and 
 trim ones too : he is now as valiant as Hercules, that 
 only tells a lye, and swears it : — I cannot be a man 
 *vith wishing, therefore I will die a woman with 
 grieving. 335 
 
 ^ Bene. Tarry, good Beatrice : By this hand, I love 
 thee. 
 
 Beat. Use it for my love some other way than 
 swearing by it. 
 
 Bene. Think you in your soul, the count Claudio 
 iiath wronged Hero ? "541 
 
 Beat. Yea, as sure as I have a thought, or a soul.: 
 " Bene. Enough, I am engag'd, I will challenge 
 him ; I will kiss your hand, and so leave you : By 
 this hand, Claudio shall render me a dear account : 
 As you hear of me, so think of me. Go comfort 
 your cousin : I must say, she is dead ; and so farewel: 
 
 \_Excunt, 
 
 SCENE
 
 t9 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. A& IF, 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 A Prison. Enter Dogberry, Verces, Borachjo, 
 Con RAD E, t/ie Tozon-Clerk and Sexton in qozvris. 
 
 Do^(r[,, Is our wliole dissenibly appear'd ? 
 
 Vcrg. O, a stool and cushion for the sexton ! 
 
 Sexton. Which be tlie malefactors ? 3 30 
 
 Dogb. Marry, that am I and riiy partner. 
 
 V<ng. Nay, that's certain ; we have the exhibition 
 to examine. 
 
 Srxton. But wliich are the offenders tliat arr to be 
 examined ? let them come before master constable. 
 
 Dogh. Yea, marry, let them come before me. — 
 Wjiat is your name, friend ? 
 
 Bora. Borachio. 
 
 Dogb. Pray, write down — Borachio. — Yours, 
 sirrah ? 360 
 
 Conr. I am a gentleman, sir, and my name is Con- 
 rade. 
 
 Dogb. Write dov/n — master gentleman Conrade. — • 
 Masters, do you serve God ? 
 
 Both. Yea, sir, we liope. 
 
 Dogb. Write down — that they hope they serve 
 God : — and w rite God first ; for God defend but God 
 should go before such villains ! — Masters, it is proved 
 already that you are little better than false knaves, 
 and it will go near to be thouglit so shortly. How^ 
 answer you for yourselves ? 371 
 
 C$m\ Marry, sir, we say, we are none.
 
 A^IV. MUCH ADO AROUT NOTHINO. 8^ 
 
 Dnirh. A mai-\'clloiis witty fellow, I assure ycMi ; 
 but I will i;o aboMt wjth him. — Come voii Jiither, 
 siiiah ; a word in yoitr ear, sir; 1 say to you, it iS 
 thought you are False knaves. 
 
 Bora. Sir, I say to \-oit, we arc none. 
 
 Do;j^h. Well, stand aside. — 'Fore God, tlicy nrc 
 boih in a tale: — Have you writ down — tiuit hey are 
 none? 380 
 
 Sexton. Master constable, you go not tlie way to 
 examine ; you must cull the watch that arc their ac- 
 cusers. 
 
 Doirb. Yea, marry, that's the eftest way : — Let tlic 
 watch come forth : — Masters, I charge you in die 
 jSrincc's name accuse these men. 
 
 Enter IVatcIanen. 
 
 1 Watch. This man said, sir, that Don John, tlie 
 prir.cc's brother, was a villain. 
 
 Dogh. Write down — Prince John a villain : — Why 
 this is flat perjury, to call a Prince's brother — villain. 
 
 Bora. Master constable, — 371 
 
 Dogb. Pray thee, fellow, peace ; I do not hke thy 
 look, I promise thee. 
 
 Sexton. What heard you liim say else ? 
 
 2 IVatck. Marn-, tliat he had receiv d a thousand 
 ducats of Don John, for accusing the lady Hcr^ 
 wrongfully. 
 
 Dogb, Flat burglary, as ever was committed. 
 Verg. Yea, by the mass, that it is. 
 
 ScxLcn-,
 
 jv4 J^UCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING* Acl IV. 
 
 Sexton. What else, fellow ? 400 
 
 1 Watch. And that Count Claudio did mean, upon 
 his words, to disgrace Hero before tlie whole assem- 
 bly, an<4 not marry her. 
 
 Dogb. O villain ! thou wilt be condemned into 
 everlasting redemption for this. 
 Sexton. What else? 
 
 2 Watch. This is all. 
 
 Sexton. And this is m.ore, masters, than you can 
 deny. Prince John is this morning secretly stolen 
 away; Hero was in this manner accus'd, in this very 
 manner refus'd, and upon the grief of this, suddenly 
 dy'd. — ^IVIaster constable, let these men be bound, and 
 brought to Leonato's ; I will go before, and shew him 
 their examination. \_Exit» 
 
 Dogb. Come, let them be opinion'd. 
 •• ** Verg. Let them be in hand. 
 
 ** Conr. Ofl^, coxcomb! 
 
 ** Dogb. God's my life ! where's the sexton ? let him 
 *' write down — the prince's officer, coxcomb/' — 
 Come, bind them : — Thou naughty varlet ! 420 
 
 Conr. Away ! you are an ass, you are an ass. 
 
 Dogb. Dost thou not suspeft my place ? Dost thou 
 not suspeft my years ? — -O that he were here to write 
 tne down — an ass ! — but, masters, remember, that I 
 Am an ass ; though it be not written down, yet for- 
 get not that I am an ass : — No, thou villain, thou art 
 full of piety, as shall be proved upon thee by good 
 witness : I am a wise fellow ; and, which is more, 
 ail oiiicer j and, which is more, an housholder ; and, 
 
 which
 
 j4cI F. MUCK At)0 ADOUT NOTHING. 85 
 
 whicli is more, as pretty a piece of flesh as any is in 
 Messina ; and one that knows tlie law, go to ; and a 
 rich fellow enough, go to ; and a fellow that hath 
 had losses ; and one that hath two gov ns, and every 
 thing handsome about him : — Bring him away. O, 
 tliiit I had been writ down — an ass ! — 435 
 
 [Exeunt. 
 
 ACT V. SCENE L 
 
 Before LeonAto's House. Enter Leonato and 
 Antonio. 
 
 Aatonio. 
 
 I F you go on thus,* you will kill yourself; 
 And 'tis not wisdom, thus to second grief 
 Against yourself. 
 
 Leon. I pray thee, cease thy counsel, 
 Wliich falls into mine ears as profitless 
 As water in a sieve : give not me counsel ; 
 Nor let no comforter delight mine ear. 
 But such a one whose wrongs do suit with mine. 
 Bring me a father, that so lov'd his child, 
 Whose joy of her is oven^helm'd like mine, lo 
 
 And bid him speak of patience ; 
 *"* Measure his woe the length and breadth of mine, 
 ** And let it answer every strain for strain ; 
 '* As thus for thus, and such a grief for such, 
 *•* In every linearaent;^ branch, shape, and form : 
 
 H « If
 
 l>6 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. A8 K 
 
 "If such a one will smile, and stroke his beard ; 
 
 " In sorrow wag! cry hem, when he should ^<;ioan ; 
 
 ** Patch grief with proverbs ; make misfortune drunk 
 
 *' With candle-wasters ; bring him yet to me, 
 
 ** And I of him will gather patience. 20 
 
 ** But tliere is no such man : For, brother, men 
 
 ** Can counsel, and give comfort to that grief 
 
 ** Which they themselves not feel ; but tailing it^ 
 
 ** Tlieir counsel turns to passion, which before 
 
 *' Would give preceptial medicine to rage, 
 
 *' Fetter strong madness in a silken thread, 
 
 <' Charm ach with air, and agony with words :"* 
 
 No, no ; 'tis all men's office to speak patience 
 
 To those that wring under the load of sorrow j 
 
 But no man's virtue, nor sufficiency 30 
 
 To be so moral, when he shall endure 
 
 The like himst^lf : therefore give me no counsel; 
 
 ** My griefs cry louder than advertisement/' 
 
 A>it. Therein do men from children nothing differ. 
 
 Leon. I pray thee, peace ; I will be flesh and blood ; 
 For there was never yet philosopher, 
 That could endure the tooth-ach patiently j 
 Howeycrthey have vVrit the style of gods. 
 And made a pish at chance and sufferance. 
 ^?Ant. Yet bend not all the harm upon yourself; 40 
 Make those, that do offend you, suffer too. 
 
 Leon. There tliou speak'st reason : nay, I will do 
 so : 
 My soul doth tell mc, Hero is bely'd; 
 
 And
 
 ■AclV. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ^7 
 
 And tlut shall Chiidlo know, sf shall tiie prince 
 And all of them thiit thus dishonour her. 
 
 Ejiter DonVziiYiO and ChXVDio, 
 
 Ant. Here comes the prince, and Ciaudio, hastily. 
 
 Pedro, Good den, good den. 
 
 Claud. Good day to both of you. 
 
 Leon. Hear you, my lords, — 
 
 Pedro. We have some haste, Leonato. ^.-j 
 
 Leon. Some haste, my lord ? — well, fare you well, 
 my lord : — 
 Are you so hasty now ? — well, all is one. 
 
 Pedro. Nay, do not quarrel with us, good old man. 
 
 AnU If he could right himself with quarrelling. 
 Some of us would lye low. 
 
 Claud. Who wrongs him ? 
 
 Lcdit. Marry, thou dost wrong me, thou dissembler, 
 thou 1 
 Nay, never lay thy hand upon thy sword, 
 I fe:jr thee not. 
 
 Claud. Marry, beshrew my hand, 6o 
 
 If it should give your age such cause of fear : 
 In faith, my hand meant nothing to my sword. 
 
 L(0H. Tus;h, tu^h, man, never riecr and jest at me; 
 I speak not like a dotard, nor a fool ; 
 As, under privilege of age, to brag 
 What I have done being young, or w hat would do. 
 Were I not old : Know, Ciaudio, to thy head, 
 Thou liast so wrong'd my innocent child, and me, 
 That I am fi)rc'4 to lay my reverence by i 
 
 Hi j And,
 
 88 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, Acl K 
 
 And, with grey liairs, and bruise of many days, 70 
 
 Do challenge thee to tryal of a man. 
 
 I say, thou liast bely'd mine innocent child, 
 
 Tliy slander hath gone through and through her 
 
 heart, 
 And she lies bury'd with her ancestors : 
 O, in a tomb where scandal never slept, 
 Save this of hers, fram'd by thy villainy I 
 . C/aud. My villainy ? 
 
 Zeon. Thine, Claudio ; thine I say. 
 
 Pedro. You say not right, old man. 
 
 Leon. My lord, my lord, So 
 
 I'll prove it on his body, if he dare ; 
 Dcspight his nice fence, and his aftive praftice. 
 His May of youth, and bloom of lustyhood. 
 
 Claud. Away, I will not have to do with you. 
 
 Leon. Canst thou so daffe me ? Thou hast kill'd my 
 cliild ; 
 If thou kill'st me, boy, thou shalt kill a man. 
 
 Ant. Hfi shall kill two of us, and men indeed : 
 • But tliat's no matter ; let him kill one first 5 — 
 Win, me and wear me, — let him answer me : — 89 
 Come, follow me, boy ; come, sir boy, follow me j 
 Sir, boy, I'll whip you from your foining fence 
 Nay, as I am a gentlemian, I will. 
 
 Leon. Brother, — ■ 
 
 Ant. Content yourself: God knows, I lov'd sny 
 niece ; 
 And she is dead, slander'd to death by villains 
 That dare as well answer a man, indeed, 
 
 As
 
 A?K. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 8^ 
 
 As I dare take a serpent by the tongue : 
 Eoys, apes, braggarts, jacks, milksops ! — 
 
 Leon. Brother Anthony, — 
 
 Ant. Hold you content j What, man ? I know 
 them, yea, \oo 
 
 And wliat they neigh, even to the utmost scruple : 
 Scambling, out-facing, fashlon-mong'ring boys, 
 That lye, and cog, and flout, deprave and slander, 
 •' Go antickly, and show outward hidcousness," 
 And speak off half a do/en dangerous words, 
 Ho'.v they might hurt their enemies, if they durst^, 
 And this is all. 
 
 Leon. But, brother Anthony, — ■ 
 
 Ant. Come, 'tis no matter ; 
 Bo not you meddle, let me deal in this. i\>d 
 
 Pedro. Gentlemen both, we will not wake your 
 patience. 
 My heart is sorry for your daughter's death ; 
 But or. my honour, she was charg'd with nothing 
 But what was true, and very fviU of proof. 
 
 Leon. My lord, my lord, — 
 
 Pf-dro. I will not hear you. 
 
 Leon. No ? 
 Come, brother, away : — I will be heard ;— - 
 
 Ant. And shall. 
 Or some of us will smart for it. 120 
 
 \^Lxcunt ambo. 
 Enter Benedick. 
 
 Pedro. See, see, 
 Here comes the man we went to seek, 
 
 H i i j Cl;Lud.
 
 .90 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. A^iV. 
 
 Claud. Now, signior! 
 What news ? 
 
 Bene Good day, my lord.. 
 
 Pedro. Welcome signior : 
 .You are ahuost come to part almost a fray. 
 
 Claud. We had like to have had our two noses 
 snapt off with two old men without teeth. 129 
 
 Pedro. Leonato and his brother : What think'st 
 thou ? had we fought, I doubt, we should have beea 
 too young for them. 
 
 Bene. In a false quarrel there is no true valour. 
 I came to seek you both. 
 
 Claud. We have been up and down to seek thee ; 
 for we are high -proof melancholy, and would fain 
 have it beaten away : Wilt thou use thy wit ? 
 
 Bene. It is in my scabbard ; shall I draw it? 
 
 *' Pedro. Dost thou wear thy wit by thy side ?" 
 
 Claud. " Never any did so, though very many have 
 been beside their wit." — I will bid thee draw, as we 
 do the minstrels ; draw, to pleasure us. 143 
 
 Pedrs. As I am an honest man, he looks pale : — 
 Art thou sick or angr>' ? 
 
 Claud. What ! courage, man ! What though care 
 kill'd a cat, thou hast mettle enough in thee to kiU 
 care. 
 
 , Bene. Sir, I shall meet your wit in the career, if 
 you charge it against me : — I pray you, chuse another 
 subject. 
 
 ♦^ Cunid. Nay, tlien give him another staff j this 
 
 ** last was broke cross." 152 
 
 , , Pedro,
 
 j4^^» much ado about nothing. 91 
 
 - Pedro. By this light, he changes more; and more ; I 
 think, he be angry indeed. 
 
 ^ Claud. If lie be, he knows how to turn his girdle. 
 Bene. Shall I speak a word in your ear ? 
 Claud. God bless me from a challenge ! 
 Bene. You are a villain ; — I jest not : — I will make 
 it good ho'.v you dare, with what you dare, and when 
 -you dare : — Do me right, or I will protest your 
 cowardice. You have kill'd a sweet lady, and her 
 4eath shall fall heavy on you : — Let me hear from 
 you. 163 
 
 Claud. Well, I will meet you, so I may have good 
 cheer. 
 : Pedrc. V/hat, a feast ? a feast ? 
 
 Claud. I -faith, I thank him ; he hath bid me to a 
 calves-head and a capon ; the v.hich if I do not carve 
 rnost curiously, say my knife's naught. Shall I not 
 ^d a v/oodcock too ? 
 
 Bene. Sir, your wit ambles well ; it goes easily. 
 ^* Pedro, ril tell tiiee, liow Beatrice prais'd thy 
 <* wit the other day : I said, thou had'st a line wit ; 
 ^^ True, says she, a fine little one -^ Noy said I, c great 
 .^* wit\ Right, said she, a great gross one ; Nay, said I, a 
 ** good zvit ; jfust, says sh.e, it hurts nobody ; Nay, said 
 ** I, the geniteman is wise ; Certain, said she, a zvise 
 *^ gentleman; Nay, said I, he hath the tongues ; That t 
 ** believe, said she, j^r he swore a thing to me on Monday 
 *-^ night, which he forswore on Tuesday morning ; there's 
 *^ a double tongue, there's two tongues. Thus did she, 
 <* an hour together, trans-shape thy particular virtues ; 
 
 "va
 
 92 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ASiK 
 
 »' yet at last, she concluded with a sigh, thou wast 
 ** the properest man in Italy. 
 
 ** Claud. For the which she wept heartily, and said, 
 ** she car'd not. 
 
 *' Pedro. Yea, that she did ; but yet, for all that, 
 '* an if she did not hate him deadly, she w ould love him 
 <* dearly ; the old man's daughter told us all. 189 
 
 *♦ Claud. All, all ; and moreover, God saw him zvhcn 
 '* he was. hid in the garden."'' 
 
 Pedro. But when shall we set the savage bull's 
 horns on the sensible Benedick's head ? 
 
 Claud. Yea, and text underneath, Here dwells Bene- 
 dick the married man ? 
 
 Bene. Fare you w^ell, boy ; you know my mind ; I 
 will leave you now to your gossip-like humour : you 
 break jests as braggarts do their blades, whicli, God 
 be thanked, hurt not. My lord, for your many 
 courtesies I tliank you ; I must discontinue your 
 company : your brother, the bastard, is fled from 
 Messina; you have, among you, kill'd a sweet and 
 innocent lady : For my lord lack-beard there, lie and 
 I shall meet j and till then, peace be with him ! 
 
 [Exit Benedick. 
 
 Pedro. He is in earnest. 
 
 Claud. In most profound earnest ; and, V\\ warrant 
 you, for the love of Beatrice. 
 
 Pedro. And hath challeng'd thee ? 
 Claud. Most sincerely. S09 
 
 Pedro. What a pretty thing man is, when he goes 
 jn his doublet and hose, and leaves off his wit ! ' 
 
 Enter-
 
 AciV. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 95 
 
 £nter DoGBEKKY, Verges, Conrade and Bora- 
 CHIO guarded. 
 
 ** Claud. He is then a giant to an ape : but then is 
 
 an ape a doftor to such a man. 
 
 ** Pedro.''' But, soft yo\i, let be ; *' phick up my 
 ** heart, and be sad •/' Did h.e not say, my brother was 
 •fled? 
 
 Dogb. Come, you, sir ; if justice cannot tame you, 
 ,€he shall ne'er weigh more reasons in her balance : 
 nay, an } on be a cursing hypocrite once, you must 
 belook'd to. 220 
 
 Pedro. How now, two of my brother's men bound I 
 Borachio, one ! 
 
 Claud. Hearken after their offence, my lord \ 
 
 Pedro. Oincersj what offence have these men done > 
 
 Dogb. Marry, sir, they have committed false re- 
 port 5 moreover, they have spoken untniths ; secon- 
 darily, they are slanders ; sixth and lastly, they have 
 bely'd a lady ; thirdly, tl.ey have verify'd unjust 
 things : and, to conclude, they are lying knaves. 229 
 
 Pedro. First, I ask thee what they have done ; 
 thirdly, I ask thee what's their offence ; sixth and 
 lastly, why they are committed ; and, to conclude, 
 what you lay to their charge ? 
 
 Claud. Rightly reasoned, and in his own division ; 
 ** and, by my troth, there's one meaning well suited.*' 
 
 Pedro. Whom have you offended, masters, that 
 you are thus bound to your answer ? this learned con- 
 stable is too cunnL;';[^ to be understood: what's your 
 offence > 239 
 
 Bora.
 
 f!^4^ MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ^SIP^, 
 
 Bora. Sweet prince, let me go no farther to mine , 
 answer ; do yoii liear me, and let this count kill me. 
 I have deceived even your very eyes : what your wis- 
 doms could not discover, tliese shallow fools have 
 brought to light; who, in the night, overheard me 
 confessing to this man, how Don John your brother 
 incens'd me to slander the lady Hero; how you were 
 brought into the orchard, and saw me court Margaret 
 in Hero's garments ; how you disgrac'd her, when 
 you should marry her : my villainy they have upon 
 record ; which I had rather seal with my death, tlian 
 repeat over to my shame : the Jady is dead upon 
 mine and my u\aster's false accusation ; and briefly, I 
 desire nothing but the reward of a villain. 253 
 
 Pedro. Runs not this speech like iron through your 
 blood ? 
 
 Claud. I have drunk poison, w-hiles he utter'd it. 
 
 Pedro. But did my brother set thee on to this ? 
 
 Bora. Yea, and paid me richly for the practice of 
 it. 
 
 Pedro. He is compos'd and frain'd of treachery : — ■ 
 And fled he is upon this villainy. 
 
 Claud. Sweet Hero ! now thy image doth appear 
 In the rare semblance that I lov'd it first. 261 
 
 Dogb. Come bring away the plaintiffs ; by this time 
 our sexton hath reform'd signior Leonato of the 
 matter : And masters do not forget to specify, when 
 time and place shall serve, that I am an ass. 
 
 Vcrg. H^re, here comes master Signior Leonato, 
 and the sexton too, > 
 
 Re- enter
 
 4c.IV*. a;uch ado about nothixg. 53 
 
 Re-enter Lf.onato and Antonio, u^ith the Sexton. 
 
 Leon. Wliich is the villain >. Let me see his eyes ; 
 That wlien I note another man like him, 
 I may avoid him : whicii of tiiese is he ? o-^^ 
 
 Bora. If you would know yoiu' wronger, look on 
 ine. 
 
 Leon. Art thou the slave, that with thy breath hast 
 kill'd 
 Mine innocent child ? 
 
 Bora, Yea, even I alone. 
 
 Leon.- No, not so villain ; thou bely'st thyself; 
 Here stand a pair of honourable men, 
 A third is fled, that had a hand in it : — 
 I. thank you, princes, for my daughter's death ; 
 Kecord it with your Jiigh and worthy deeds ; 
 'Twas bravely done, if you bethink you of it. c8o 
 
 Claud. -l know not how to pray your patience. 
 Yet 1 must speak : Chuse your revenge yourself j 
 Impose me to what penance your invention 
 C:iu lay upon my sin : yet siun'd I not, 
 But in mistaking. 
 
 Palro. By my soul, nor I ; 
 And yet, to satisfy this good old man, 
 I vrould bend under any heavy \Neight 
 That he'll enjoin me to. 
 
 Leon. I cannot bid you bid my daugliter live, 290 
 That were impossible j but, I pray you both. 
 Possess the people in Messina here 
 How innoceat she dy'd ; *' aud, il" your love 
 
 " Can
 
 ^6 MtJCH ADO ABOUT NOtHING. ASiF,- 
 
 ** Can labour aught in sad invention, 
 
 " Hang her an epitaph upon her tomb, 
 
 *' And sing it to her bones ; sing it to-night" : 
 
 To-morrow morning come; you to my house ; 
 
 And since you could not be my son-in-law. 
 
 Be yet my nephew ; my brother hath a daughter, 
 
 Ahuost the copy of my child that's dead, 300 
 
 And she alone is heir to both of us ; 
 
 Give her the riglit you should have given her cousin^ 
 
 And so dies my revenge* 
 
 Claud. O noble sir^ 
 Your over-kindness doth wring tears from me 1 
 I do embrace your offer ; and dispose 
 For henceforth of poor Claudio. 
 
 Leon. To-morrow then I will expefl your coir^ng ; 
 To-n'ght I take my leave. This naughty man 
 Shall face to face be brought to Margaret, 310 
 
 Who, I believe, v/as packM in all this wrong, 
 Hir'd to it by your brother. 
 
 Bora. No, by my soul, she was not ; 
 Nor knew not what she did, when she spok« to me ; 
 But always hi>th been just and virtuous, 
 In any tiling that I do know by licr, 
 
 DogL Moreover, sir (which, indeed, is not under 
 v/hite and black), this plaintiff here, the offender, did 
 call me ass : I beseech you, let it be remembred in 
 his punishn>ent : And also, the watch heard them talk 
 of one Deformed : " they say, he wears a key in his 
 ** ear, and a lock hanging by it ; and borrows money 
 *' in God's name ; the v/hich he hatli usM so long, and 
 
 ** never 
 
 J
 
 AEIV. MUCH Ado ABou*r NOTHi^-G. fj7 
 
 ** never paid, that now men grow hard-hearted, and 
 ** will lend nothing for God's sake :" Pray you, exa- 
 mine him upon that point. 
 
 Leon. I thank thee for thy care and honest pains. 
 
 Dogb. Your worship speaks like a most thankfuJ 
 end reverend youth ; and I praise God for you. 
 
 Leon. There's for thy pains. 330 
 
 Bogb. God save the foundation ! 
 
 Leon. Go, I discharge thee of thy prisoner, and I 
 thank thee. 
 
 Dogb. I leave an errant knave with your worsliip ; 
 wliich, I beseech your worship, to correft yourself, 
 for the example of others. God keep your worship ; 
 I V, ish your worship well ; God restore you to health : 
 I himibly give you leave to depart ; and if a merry 
 meeting may be wish'd, God prohibit it. — Come, 
 neighbour. [Excu?it, 340 
 
 ** Leon. Until to-morrow morning, lords, farewel. 
 
 •* Ani. Farewel, my lords j we look for you to- 
 morrow. 
 Pedro. We will not fail. 
 
 ** Claud. To-night I'll mourn with Hero." 
 
 Leon. Bring you these fellows on; we'll talk with 
 Margaret, 
 How her a<:quaintanee grew witli this lewd fellow. 
 
 lExeuni severally* 
 
 SCENE
 
 98, MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. AB F 
 
 SCENE II. 
 
 A Room in Leonato's House. Enter Benedick, and 
 Margaret, meeting. 
 
 Bene. Pray thee, sweet mistress Margaret, deserve 
 \vell at my hands, by helping me to the speech of 
 Beatrice. 
 
 Marg. Will you then write me a sonnet m praise of 
 my beauty ? 
 
 . Bejie. In so high. a style, -Margaret, that no man 
 living sliall come over it ; for, in most comely trutli, 
 tjiou deservest it. 
 
 Marg. To have no man come over me ? why, sliall 
 I always keep below stairs ? 
 
 Bene, Thy wit is as quick as the greyhound's 
 mouth, it catches. 
 
 Marg. And your's as blunt as the fencer's foils, 
 which hit, but hurt not. 360 
 
 Bene. A most manly wit, Margaret, it will not 
 luirt a woman ; and so, I pray thee, call Beatrice : 
 << I give .thee the bucklers." 
 
 ^- " Marg. Give us the sv/ords, we have bucklers of 
 *' our own. 
 
 *' Bene. If you use them, Margaret, you must put. 
 "in tlie pikes witli a vice ; and they are dangerous 
 ** weapons for maids." 
 
 Marg. Well, I will call Beatrice to you, <^ who I 
 <'-think hath legs." [/".r/Y Margaret-. 370 ' 
 
 Bene. *' And therefore will conie." [^ings.]
 
 jidV. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 99 
 
 T/ie god of love^ 
 That sits abovcy 
 *' And knoxos vie^ and knows tw^,'* 
 *' How pitiful I deserve, — " 
 
 I mean in singing ; but in loving, Leander the goud 
 swimmer, Troilus the first employer of pnndars, 
 and a whole book full of these quondam carpet- 
 mongers, wliose names yet run smoothly in the even 
 road of a! blank verse, why, they were never so 
 truly turn'd over and over, as my poor self, in love : 
 Marry, I cannot shew it in rhime ; I have try'd ; 
 I can find out no rhime to /ady but bafy, an inno 
 cent rhime ; for scoruy hoTn, a hard rhime ; lor 
 school, fool, a babbling rhime ; very ominous endings : 
 No, I was not born under a rhiming planet, tor I 
 cannot woo in festival terms. — 
 
 Enter Beatrice. 
 
 Sweet Beatrice, wonld'st thou come wiien I call thee ? 
 
 Beat. Yea, signior, and depart w hen you bid me. 
 
 Bene. O, stay but till then ! 390 
 
 Beat. Then, is spoken ; fare you well now : — and 
 yet ere I go, let me go with that I came for, which 
 is, with knowing what hath past between you and 
 Claudio. 
 
 Bene. Only foul words ; and thereupon I will kiss 
 thee. 
 
 Beat, Foul words are but foul wind, and foul wind 
 Jij . is
 
 £00 iMUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. Afi V, 
 
 is but foul breath, and foul breath is noisome ; there- 
 fore I will depart unkiss'd. 
 
 Bene. Thou hast friglited the v/ord out of its right 
 sense, so forcible is thy wit: But, I -must tell thee 
 plainly, Claudio undergoes my challenge ; and either 
 1 must shortly hear from him, or I will subscribe 
 iiim a coward. And, I pray thee rjow, tell me, for 
 which of my bad parts didst thou first fall in love 
 \vith me ? 
 
 Beat. For them all together; which maintain'd so 
 politick a state of evil, that they will not admit any 
 good part to intermingle with them. But for which 
 of my good parts did you first sufter love for me ? 
 
 Bene. Suffer love ; a good epithet ! I do sufter love, 
 indeed, for I love thee against my will. 
 . Beat. In spight of your heart, I think ; alas ! poor 
 heart ! If you spight it for my sake, I will spight it 
 for yours ; for I will never love that, which my 
 friend liates. 
 
 Bene. Thou and I are too wise to woo peaceably. 
 
 Beat. It appears not in this confession ; there's not 
 one wise man among twenty, that will praise him- 
 self. 420 
 
 Berie. An old, an old instance, Beatrice, that liv'd 
 in the time of good neighbours : if a man do not 
 creft in this age his own tomb ere he dies, he shall 
 live no longer in monument, than the bell rings, and 
 the widow weeps. 
 
 Beat And how long is that, think you ? 
 
 Bene. Question ? — Why, an hour in clamour, 
 
 ;ii)d
 
 ■ 'AclK MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. lea 
 
 and a quarter in rheum : Therefore it is most expe- 
 dient for the wise (if don Worm, his conscience, 
 find no impediment to the contrary), to be the trum- 
 pet of his own virtues, as I am to myself: So nuich 
 for praising myself (who, I myself will bcir witness 
 is praise- worthy), and now tell me. How doth your 
 cousin ? 
 
 Beat. Very ill ^3^ 
 
 Bene. And how do you ? 
 
 Beat. Very ill too. 
 
 Bene. Serve God, love me, and mend : there wifl 
 I leave you too, for here comes one in haste 
 
 £/2^cr Ursula. 
 
 Urs. Madam, you must come to your uncle ; " yon- 
 *' der's old coil at home :" it is proved, my lady Hero 
 hath been falsely accus'd, the prince and Claudio 
 mightily abus'd ; and Don John is tlie author of all, 
 who is fled and gone : *' Will you come presently?" 
 
 Beat. Will you go hear this news, signior ? 
 
 Bene. J will live in thy heart, die in thy lap, and be 
 bury'd in thy eyes ; and, moreover, I will go w ith 
 thee to thy uncle. [Exeunt. 
 
 SCENE III. 
 
 *' A Church. Enter Don Pedro, Cl audio, end 
 ** Attendants with Music and Tapers. 
 ** Claud. Is this the monument of Leonato ? 
 *' Attcn. It is, my lord. 450 
 
 liij «CLiiUDIO
 
 UOa MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. JSiy, 
 
 " Claudio reads. 
 <* Done to death by slanderous tongues 
 
 ** Was the Heroy that here lies : 
 *' Death y in guerdon of her wrongs y 
 
 ** Gives her fame which never dies : 
 •* So the lijcy that dy'd with shame, 
 
 ^* Lives in death with glorious fame. 
 
 *< Hang thou there upon the tomb, 
 <' Pruising lier wlien I an-^ dumb.— 
 *' Now musick soundj and sing your solemn hymn, 
 
 *' S O N G. 
 
 *■'■ Pardony Goddess of the nighty <^6af 
 
 *' Those that slew thy virgin knight ; 
 " For the which y with songs of woe, 
 "^' Round aboift her tomh they go. 
 
 ** Midnight, assist our moan j 
 
 *' Help us to sigh and groan, 
 *' Heavily, heavily: 
 
 ^' Graves yawn and yield your deacL 
 
 ^-^ Till death be uttf red, 
 " Heavily, heavily. 
 
 <' Claud. Now, unto thy bones good night ! 479 
 " Yearly will I do this rite. 
 
 *' Pedro. Good morrow, masters ; put your torches 
 
 out : 
 <' The wolves have prey'd ; and look, tlie gentl' 
 day 
 ; ' - «^ Before
 
 MV. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. log 
 
 *' Before the wheels of Plioebus, round about 
 
 ** Dapples the drowsy east with spots of grey : 
 ♦* Thanks to you all, and leave us ; fare you well. 
 " Claud. Good morrow, masters ; each his several 
 
 way. 
 ** Pedro. Come, let us hence, and put on other 
 weeds ; 
 *' And then to Leonato's we will go. 479 
 
 .** Claud. And Hymen now with luckier issue 
 speeds, 
 <^ TJian ihis, for whom we render'd up this woe ! 
 
 {Exeunt.'* 
 
 SCENE IV. 
 
 X^EONATo's House. Enter Leonato, Benedick, 
 Margarkt, Ursula, x\ntonio. Friar and Heko, 
 
 Friar. Did not I tell you she was innocent ? 
 
 Leon. So are the prince and Claudio, who accui'd 
 her, 
 Upon the error that you heard debated : 
 But Margaret was in some fault for this ; 
 Although against her will, as it appears 
 *' In the true course of all the question." 
 
 Ant. Well, I am glad that all things sort so well, 
 
 Bene. And so am I, being else by faith enforc'd 
 To call young Claudio to a reckoning for it. 499 
 
 Leon. Well, daughter, and you getulewomen aU, 
 Withdraw into a chamber by vourselves j 
 
 And,
 
 J04 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ASi F^ 
 
 And, when I send for you, come hither mask'd j 
 The prince and Claudio promis'd by this hour 
 To visit me : — You know your office, brother; ^ 
 
 You must be father to your brother's daughter, 
 And give her to young Claudio. [Exeunt Ladies, 
 
 Ant, Which I will do with confirm'd countenance. 
 
 Bene. Friar, I must entreat your pains, I think. 
 ' Friar. To do what, signior ? 500 
 
 Bene. To bind me, or undo me, one of them. — 
 Signior Leonato, truth it is, good signior. 
 Your niece regards me with an eye of favour. 
 
 Leon. That eye my daughter lent her; 'tis most 
 true, 
 
 Bene. And I do with an eye of love requite her. 
 
 Leon, The sight whereof, 1 think, you had from 
 me. 
 From Claudio and the prince ; But what's your wili? 
 • Bene. Your answer, sir, is enigmatical : 
 But, for my will, my will is, your good v^ill 
 Jvlay stand with ours', this day to be conjoin'd 510 
 In the estate of honourable marriage ; — 
 In which, good friar, T shall desire your help. 
 
 Leon. My heart is with your liking. 
 
 Friar. And my help. 
 *' Here com«s the prince, and Claudio." 
 
 Enter Don Pedro a??(af Claudio, with Attendants. 
 
 ^ Pedro. Good morrow to this fair assembly. 
 
 Leon. •' Good morrow, prince j good morrow, 
 "Cliiudipi" 
 
 We
 
 Jl^F. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHIKG. Vc33 
 
 We here attend you ; Are you yet determined 
 To-day to marry with my brother's daughter? 
 
 Claud. I'll hold my mind, were she an Ethiope. 523 
 
 Ixon. Call her forth, brother, here's the friar ready. 
 
 \^Exit Antonio, 
 
 Pedro, Good morrow, Benedick : Why, what's the 
 matter, 
 That you have sucli a Febniary face, 
 So full of frost, of storm, and cloudiness > 
 
 Claud. I think, he thinks upon the savage bull :- " 
 Tush, fear not, man, we'll tip thy horns wdth gold. 
 And all Europa shall rejoice at thee ; 
 As once Europa did at lusty Jove, 
 When he would play the noble beast in love. 
 
 Baie. Bull Jove, sir, had an amiable low ; 530 
 
 And some such strange bull leapt your father's cow, - 
 And got a calf in that same noble feat, 
 Much like to you, for you have just his bleat. 
 
 Re-enter Antonio, with Hero, Beatrice, Mar- 
 garet, ajid Ursula, viask'd. 
 
 '* Claud. For this I owe you : here come other 
 reck'nings." 
 Which is the lady I must seize upon ? 
 
 Ant. This same is she, and I do give you her. 
 Claud. Why then she's mine; Sweet, let me see 
 
 your face. 
 Leon. No, that you shall not, till you take her 
 hand 
 Before this friar, and swear to nivarr)' her. 
 
 Claud,
 
 J06 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. jiSl K 
 
 Claud. Give me your Iiand before this holy friar ; 
 I am your husband, if you hke of me. 5|i 
 
 Hero. And when I hv'd, I was your otlier wife : 
 
 \Unmaskvi(T, 
 And when you lov'd, you wTere my other husband. 
 
 Claud. Another Hero ? 
 
 Hero. Nothing certainer : 
 One Hero dyM defil'd ; but I do live, 
 And, surely as I live, I am a maid. 
 
 Pedro. The former Hero ! Hero, that is dead ? 
 , Leon. She dy'd, my lord, but whiles her slander liv'd. 
 
 Friar. All this amazement can I qualify j 550 
 
 When, after that the holy rites are ended, 
 I'll tell you largely of fair Hero's death: 
 Mean time let wonder ^ecm familiar, 
 And to the chapel let us presently. 
 
 Bene. Soft and fair, friar. — Which is Beatrice ? 
 
 Beat., I answer to that name j What is your will ? 
 
 Bene. Do not you love me ? 
 ■' Beat. Why, no, no more than reason. 
 
 Bene. Why then your uncle, and the prince, and 
 Claudio 
 Have been deceived ; they swore you did, 560 
 
 Beat. Do not you love me ? 
 
 Bene. Troth, no, no more than reason. 
 
 Beat. Wliy, then my cousin, Margaret, and Ursula, 
 Are much deceiv'd ; for they did swear you did. 
 
 Bene. They swore, that you were almost sick for me. 
 
 Beat. They swore, that you were wcU-nigh dead 
 fqr me, 
 
 Bene^
 
 ^SIF, MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ioj 
 
 Bf/ie. 'Tis no such matter : — Then, you do not 
 love nie ? 
 
 Bfat. No, truly, but in friendly recompence. 
 
 Itoft. Come, cousin, I am sure you love tlie gen- 
 tlenum. 
 
 Claud. And Til be sworn upon't, that he loves her ; 
 For here's a paper, written in his hand, 571 
 
 A halting sonnet of his own pure bram, 
 Fashion'd to Beatrice. 
 
 Hero. And here's another, 
 Writ in my cousin's hand, stolen from her pocket, 
 Containing her afteilion unto Benedick. 
 
 Bene. A miracle ! here's our owii Ijand^ against our 
 hearts! — Come, I will have thee j but, by this light, 
 I take thee for pity. 579 
 
 Beat. I would not deny you ; — but, by tliis good 
 day, I yield upon great persuasion ; and, partly, to save 
 your life, for I was told, you were in a consumption. 
 
 Bene. Peace, I will stop your mouth. — 583 
 
 [Kissing her, 
 
 . Pedro. How dost tliou, Benedick the married man ? 
 Bene. I'll tell thee what, prince ; a college of wit- 
 ci'ackers cannot flout, me out of my humour : Dost 
 thou think, I care for a satire, or an epigram ? No : 
 if a m.an will be beaten with brains, he shall wear 
 notiiing handsom.e about him : In brief, since I do 
 purpube to marry, I will think nothing to any purpose 
 that the world can ^ay against it ; and therefore never 
 tloiit at me for what I have said against it : for man is 
 a giddy thing, and'tliis .i^.niy conciusion. — For thy 
 
 part.
 
 lot 
 
 MUCH Ado about nothing. 
 
 JcTK 
 
 part, Claudio, I did tliink to have beaten thee ; but 
 in that thou art like to be my kinsman, hve unbruis'd, 
 and love my cousin, 596 
 
 Claud. I had well hoped, tliou would'st have denied 
 Beatrice, that I might have cudgeH'd thee " out of 
 *' thy single life, to make thee a double dealer ; which, 
 *' out of question, thou wilt be, if m.y cousin do not 
 *' look exceeding narrowly to thee." 601 
 
 Bene, Come, come, we are friends : — let's have a 
 dance ere we are marry'd, tliat we may lighten our 
 own hearts, and our wives' heels. 
 
 Leon. Weil have dancing afterwards. 
 
 Bene. First, o' my word ; therefore, play,^ musick.— 
 Prince, thou art sad ; get thee a wife, get thee a wife : 
 there is no staff more reverend than one tipt with horn. 
 Enter Messenger. 
 
 Mess. My lofd, your brother Joim is ta'en in flight, 
 And brought with armed men back to Messina. 610 
 
 Bene. Think not on him till to-morrow : I'll devise 
 thee brave punishments for him. — Strike up, pipers. 
 
 Dance. {^Exeunt omncs:, 
 
 THE END.
 
 ANNOTATIONS 
 
 B Y 
 
 SAM. JOHNSON E3 GEO. STE EVENS, 
 
 AND 
 
 THE VARIOUS COMMENTATORS 
 
 UPON 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, 
 
 WRITTEN BY 
 
 WILL. SHAKSPERE. 
 
 SIC ITUR AD ASTRA. 
 
 L O X D O i\ : 
 
 Printed for, and under the DireBion of., 
 John Bell, lBriti0!);IlibrarE5 Strand, 
 Ilooksellcr to His Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, 
 M DCC LXXXVII.
 
 ANNOTATIONS 
 
 UPON 
 
 MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 
 
 ACT I. 
 
 Muck Ado about Nothing,'] IN NO GEN (the mother 
 cf Hero), in the oldest quarto that I have seen of this 
 play, printed in 1600, is mentioned to enter in two 
 several scenes. The succeeding editions have all con- 
 tinued her name in the Dramatis Personae. But I 
 Iiave ventured to expunge it ; there being no mention 
 of her through the play, no one speech address'd to 
 her, nor one syllable spoken by her. Neither is there 
 any one passage, from which we have any reason to 
 determine that Hero's mother was living. It seems, 
 as if the poet had in his fa^t plan designed such a 
 character : which, on a survey of it, he found would 
 be superfluous j and therefore he left it out. 
 
 Theobald. 
 
 A i j ^^'^^
 
 4 ANNOTATIONS UPO?I AB T, 
 
 Line y, ' of any sort, — ] Sort is rank. So, in 
 
 Chapman's version of the i6tli book of Homer's 
 Odyssey .* 
 
 ** A ship, and in her many a man of sort.'^ 
 
 Steveens. 
 Sort is rather distitiBion. Henley. 
 
 22. -joy could not shew itself modest enough with- 
 out a badge of bitterness .'\ This is judiciously express'd. 
 Of all the transports of joy, that which is attended 
 with tears is least offensive ; because, carrying with it 
 this mark of pain, it allays the envy that usually at- 
 tends another's happiness. This he finely calls a 7;?o- 
 dest ]oyy such a one as did not insult the observer by 
 an indication of happiness unmixed with pain. 
 
 Warburton. 
 Such another expression occurs in Chapman's ver- 
 sion of the tenth book of the Odyssey ; 
 
 <* our eyes wore 
 
 ** The same wet badge of weak humanity.'* 
 This is an idea which Shakspere seems to have 
 been delighted to introduce. It occurs again in 
 Macbeth : 
 
 ** - . -my plenteous joys 
 
 ** Wanton in fullness, seek to hide themselves 
 
 «* In drops of sorrow r Steevens. 
 
 27. no faces truer] That is, none honestery 
 
 none more sincere. Johnson. 
 
 30. — is signior Montanto returned — ] Montante, m 
 
 Spanish, is a huge two-handed swordj given, with much 
 
 humour.
 
 Acll. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 5 
 
 humour, to one the speaker would represent as a 
 boaster or bravado. Warburton. 
 
 Montanto v,'a.s one of tlie ancient terms of the fencing- 
 school. So, in Every Man in his Humour: " — your 
 punto, your reverso, your stoccata, your imbrocata, 
 your passada, your montanto,'^ Sec. Again, in the 
 Merry Wives of Windsor : 
 
 <' thy reverse, thy distance, thy montant.''^ 
 
 Steevens. 
 32. — there was noru such in the army of any sort.] 
 Not meaning there was none such of any order or de- 
 gree whatevery but that there was none such of any 
 quality above the common . Warburton. 
 
 38. He set up his billsy &-c.] In Ben Jonson's Every 
 Man out of his Hufjtoury Shift says : 
 
 *' This is rare, I have set up my bil/s without 
 discovery." 
 Again, in Swetnam Arraign* dy 1620: 
 
 *' I have bought foils already, set up bills^ 
 " Hungup my two-hand sword," &c. 
 Again, in Nash's Have with you to Saffron-Waldeny Sec. 
 1596: 
 
 « — setting up bills like a bearward or fencer, what 
 fights we shall have, and what weapons she will meet 
 me at." 
 
 The following account of one of these challenges, 
 taken from an ancient MS. of which some account is 
 given in a note on the first act and first scene of the 
 Utrry Wives of Windsor ^ may not be unacceptable to 
 
 the
 
 6 ANNOTATIONS UPON A& I. 
 
 the Inqiiisitlvq reader, f Item, achallenge playde be- 
 fore the King's majestic (Edward VI.) at Westminster, 
 by three maisters, Willym Pascall, Robert Greene, 
 and W. Browne, at seven kynde of weapons. That 
 is to saye, the axe, the pike, the rapier and target, 
 the rapier and cloke, and with two swords, against all 
 alyens and strangers, being borne without the King's 
 dominions, of what countrie so ever he or they were, 
 geving them a Avarninge by theyr Mils set up by the 
 three maisters, the space of eight weeks before the 
 sayd challenge was playde; and it was holden four 
 severall Sundayes, one after another." It appears 
 from the same work that all challenges " to any 
 maister within the realme of Englande being an Eng- 
 lishe man," were against the statutes of the ** Noble 
 science of Defence.'' 
 
 Beatrice means, that Benedick published a general 
 challenge, like a prize-fighter. Steevens. 
 
 39. — challenged Cupid at tkejlight ; — ] To challenge 
 at the. flighty was a challenge to shoot with an arrow. 
 Flight Ineans an arrow, as may be proved from the 
 following lines in Beaumont and Fletcher's Bonduca : 
 
 *' not tlie. quick rack swifter : 
 
 " The virgin from the hated ravish cr 
 
 " Not half so fearful : not c flight drawn homey 
 
 '* A round stone from a sling.'''' 
 
 But it is apparent from the following passage in the 
 Civil Warsoi' Daniel, B. VIII. st. 15. that a.fight was 
 not used to signify an arrow in gcneraly but some 
 
 particular
 
 Acl I. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 7 
 
 particular kind of arrow j I believe one of an unusual 
 length : 
 
 j ** and assigned 
 
 I *' The archers theirj?z"g-/z/-shafrs to shoot away ; 
 
 ** Which th' adverse side (with sleet and dimness 
 
 blind, 
 " Mistaken in the distance of the way), 
 *' Answer with their s/:ca/- arrow's, that came 
 
 short 
 *' Of their intended aim, and did no hurt.'* 
 Holinshed makes the same distinction in his account 
 of the same occurrence, and adds, that xYit?,eJlights 
 were provided on purpose. Again, in Holinshed, 
 p. 649, — *' He caused the soldiers to shoot their 
 fights towards the lord Audlies company."' 
 
 Mr. Toilet observes, that the length of 2ifdght-shot 
 seems ascertained by a passage in Leland's Itinerary, 
 1769, Vol. IV. p. 44. *' The passage into it at ful se 
 is ^Jlite-shot over, as much as the Tamise is above 
 the bridge." — It were easy to know the length of Lon- 
 don-Bridge ; and Stowe's Survey may inform the cu- 
 rious reader whether tlie river has been narrowed by 
 embanking since the days of Leland. 
 
 The bird-bolt is a sliort thick arrow v.ithout po'nt, 
 and spreading at the extremity so nuicli, as to leave a 
 flat surface, about tlie breadtii of a shilling. Such are 
 to this day in use to kill rooks with, and are shot 
 from a cross-bow. So, in Maraton's Wkat Ycu WiU, 
 1607 : 
 
 <* —irno ranee
 
 ANNOTATIONS UPON A61 I, 
 
 ignorance should shoot 
 
 ** His gross-knobb'd bird bolt. " 
 
 Again, in Love in a Maze, 1632 : 
 
 *< Cupid, 
 
 " Pox of his bird-bolt ! Venus, 
 
 " Speak to thy boy to fetch his arrow back, 
 
 " Or strike her with a s/iarp one !'' 
 
 Steevens. 
 He challenged Cupid at the flight, and my uncle's fool 
 challenged him at i/^f bird-bolt.] The flight was an ar- 
 row of a particular kind : — In the Harleian Catalogue 
 of MSS. Vol. I. n. 69. is " a challenge of the lady 
 Maiee^s servants to all comers, to be performed at 
 Grcenwiche — to shoot standart arrow, or Jlight."' I 
 find the title-page of an old pamphlet still more ex- 
 plicit : "A new post — a marke exceeding neces- 
 sary for all men's arrows : whether the great man's 
 fight, tJie gallant's rcver, the vvise man's pricke-shaftf 
 the poor man's but-shafty or the fool's bird- bolt.'''' 
 
 Farmer. 
 
 The Jlight, which in the Latin of the middle ages 
 
 was Ccdled Jlecla, was a fleet arrow with narrow fea- 
 
 tliers, usually employed against rovers. See Blount's 
 
 Ancient Tcmires, T^^"g. 
 
 A bolt seems to have been a general term for an 
 arrow. So, in Shirley's Love's Cruelty : «' When the 
 keepers are none of the wisest, their bolts are sooner 
 shot." 
 
 There tlie bolt is supposed to be employed against 
 
 deer-
 
 APt I. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 9 
 
 deer-stealers. The word is still used in the common 
 proverb : AfooVs bolt is soon shot. 
 
 That particular species of arrow which was em- 
 ployed in killing birds, appears to have been called a 
 bird-hoXr.. Ma LONE. 
 
 An arrow employed in war was never termed a bolt. 
 Bolt, therefore, could not have been a general term for 
 an arrow. Steevens. 
 
 46. he'll be meet with yoUy ] J his is a 
 
 very common expression in the midland count'es, and 
 signifies, he'' II be your match, he"* II be even with you. 
 
 So, in TEXNOrAMIA, by B. Holiday, 1618 : 
 " Go meet her, or else she'll be meet with me.'* 
 
 55. 'SMxx^c'di with all honourable virtues.^ Stujf'd, 
 
 in this first instance, has no ridiculous meaning. Mr. 
 Edwards obseives that Mede in his Discourses on Scrip, 
 ture, speaking of Adam, says, *' — he whom God 
 hud stuped with so many excellent qualities " 
 
 Edwards's MS. 
 
 Again, in The Winter'' s Tale : 
 
 *' whom you know 
 
 " Of stuffed sufficiency.''' 
 
 Un homme bien ctofe, signifies, in French, a mari 
 in good circumstances. S r E E v e N s . 
 
 57. — he is no less than a stuff 'd man: but for the 
 stuffing — well, wc are all mortal.] Mr. Theobald 
 plumed himself much on the pointing of this passage ; 
 which, by tlic way, he might learn from Davenant : 
 but he says not a word, nor any one else tint I know 
 of; about tjie reason of tliis abruption. The truth is, 
 B Beatrice
 
 10 ANNOTATIONS UPON AB L 
 
 Beatrice starts an idea at tlie words stiiff'd man; and 
 prudently checks herself in the pursuit of it. K stuffed 
 man was one of the many cant phrases for a cuckold. 
 In Lilly*s Mida^y we have an inventory of Mottoes 
 moveables. — ** Item, says Petulus, one paire of homes 
 in the bride-chamber on the bed's head. — The beast^s 
 head, observes Licio ; for Motto is stuff' d in the head^ 
 and these are among unmoveable goods/* Fa rm er. 
 
 ^5' -four of /lis ^ve wits ] In our author's 
 
 time zoit was the general term for intelleftual powers. 
 So, Davics on the Soul * 
 
 << Wit, seeking truth, from cause to cause ascends-, 
 
 ** And never rests till it the fir si attain ; 
 *' Will, seeking good, finds many middle ends^ 
 " But never stays till it the last do gain-''* 
 And, in another part : 
 
 ** But, if a phrenzy do possess the brain, 
 
 *^ It so disturbs and blots the form ofthings, 
 ** As fantasy proves altogether vain, 
 
 *' And to the wit no true relation brings, 
 *< TJien doth the wit, admitting all for true, 
 
 ** Build fond conclusions on those idle grounds.'^ — 
 Tlie wits seem to have been reckoned five, by 
 analogy to the live senses, or the five inlets of ideas. 
 
 Johnson. 
 
 67. wit enough to keep himself WAP>.iM, &c.] 
 
 $uch a one has wit enough to keep himself warviy is a 
 proverbial expression. 
 
 So, in the Wise Woman of Hogsden, 1638: ** You 
 
 are tlie v/ise woman, are you ? and have wit to keep 
 
 3 yourscf
 
 Jd I. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHJNG. II 
 
 yourself warm enough, I warrant you." To bearatjy 
 thing for a dijfe.rcncc^ is a term in heraldry. So, in 
 Hamlet, Ophelia says : 
 
 ** you may wear yours with a dijfercnce.'''' 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 74. he wears his Luih ] Not religions pro- 
 
 ies:)ion, but profession of friendship ; for the speaker 
 gives it as the reason of her asking, who was now his 
 companion F that Ae had every menth a new sworn brother. 
 
 Warburton. 
 
 7.-5' ^if-li- i^'(^ fie>^f' block] A block is the mould 
 
 on which a hat is formed. So, in Decker's Satiro- 
 mastix : 
 
 " Of what fashion is this knight's wit? of what 
 block?'' 
 See a note on IL Learf a6t iv. sc. 6. 
 
 The old writers sometimes use the word block for 
 tlie liat itself. Ste evens* 
 
 yj. the gentleman is not in jour books.] TJiis 
 
 is a phrase used, I believe, by more than understand 
 it. To be in one's books, is to be in one's codicils or will, 
 to be among friends set do wn for legacies, Johnson. 
 I ratlier think that the books alluded to, are memo- 
 randum books, like the visiting-books of tlie present 
 age: so, in Decker's //<?/;«/ /F^^/-^, Pai't IL 1630: 
 '' I am sure her name was in my Table-Book 
 once." 
 Or, perhaps, the allusion is to matricula*ion at the 
 university. 
 
 i^t \i\ Aristippus, or i\\Q Jovial Philosopher ^ 1G30: 
 B ij " You
 
 12 ANNOTATIONS UPON AS! F, 
 
 • '* You must be matriculated, and have your name 
 recorded in Al6o Academia.'' 
 
 Again, — •' What, have you enrolled him z;? Allfo P 
 Have you fully admitted him into the Society ? — to be 
 a member of the body academick ?"'' 
 
 Again, ** And if I be not entered, and have my 
 name admitted into some of their l>ooks, let," Sec. 
 
 And yet I think the following passage in tlie Maid's 
 Revenge f by Shirley, 1639, ^^'^^1 sufficiently support 
 my first supposition : 
 
 " Pox of your compliment, you were best not write 
 in her Table- Books. ^' 
 
 It appears to have been anciently the custom to 
 chronicle the small beer of every occurrence, whether 
 literary or domestick, in these TabU-Books. 
 So, in the play last quoted : 
 
 ** Devolve itself! — that word is not in my Tabk" 
 Books " 
 
 Hamkty likewise has, — " my tables,^'' &c. 
 Again, in the Whore of Babylon^ 1607: 
 " — — Campeius ! — Babylon 
 "His name hath in her Tables.^* 
 Again, in Acolastus^ 3. comedy, 1540. 
 
 " — We weyl haunse thee, or set thy name into our 
 Jelowship boke, with clappyngeof handes," &c. 
 
 I know not exactly to what custom this last quoted 
 passage refers, unless to the album : for just after, the 
 same expression occurs again: that ** — from hence- 
 forthe tliou may'st liave a place worthy for thee in our
 
 ABI. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. I3 
 
 zvhyte: from hence tliou may'st have thy name written 
 in our boke,'* 
 
 It should seem, from tJie following passage in tlie 
 Taming of a S/irew, that tin's phrase might have ori- 
 ginated from the Herald^ s OJfice : 
 
 " A herald, Katel oh, ^wt me in thy boohs !'^ 
 After all, the following note in one of the Harleian 
 MSS. No. 847, may be the best illustration; 
 
 " W. C. to Henry Fradshara, Gent, the owner of 
 this book : 
 
 ** Some write their fantasies ia verse 
 
 «< In theire bcokes where they friendshippe shewe, 
 
 <* Wherein oft tymesthey doe rehearse 
 
 *' The great good will tliat they doe owe," Sec. 
 
 StE EVENS. 
 
 The gentleman is not in your books.] This phrase has 
 not been exactly interpreted. To be in a vian's books, 
 originally meant to be in the list of his retainers^ Sir 
 John Mandevile tells us, " alle the mynstrelles tliat 
 comen before the great Chan ben witholden with him, 
 as of his houshold, and entred in his bookesy r.s for his 
 own men." Farmer. 
 
 This expression, I make no doubt, took its rise 
 from the custom mentioned by Dr. Farmer, That in 
 all great families, the names of the servants of the 
 household wtre written in boohs kept for tliat purpose, 
 appears from the following passage in A new Tuck to 
 cheat the Devil, a comedy, 1639: ''See, master 
 Treatwell, that iiis name be enrcUed among niy other 
 B iij servunU—'
 
 14 ANNOTATIONS UPON A7 /. 
 
 servants — Let my steward receive such notice from 
 you." 
 
 A servant and a lover were in Cupid's Vocabulary, 
 synonymous. Thus, in Marston's M^/^c^^w^^??/, 1604: 
 ** Is not Marslial Makcrooiriy my servant in reversion, 
 a proper gentleman:" 
 
 Hence the p'r.rase — to be in a person'' s books — was ap- 
 plied equally to the lover and the menial attendant. 
 
 Ma LONE. 
 
 81. — ymnig squarer ] A squarer I take to be a 
 
 cholerick, quarrelsome fellow, for in this sense Shak- 
 spere uses the word to square. So, in the Midsummer 
 Kight''s Dreamy it is said of Oberon and Titania, tliat 
 thty never meet but they square. So the sense may be, 
 Js there no hot -blooded ^j/oi/M tfiat will keep him company 
 through all his mad pranks F Johnson. 
 
 102. Tou embrace your charge ] That is, your 
 
 burden^ yowr incumbrance. Johnson, 
 
 121. such food to fad zV, as signior Bene- 
 dick .?] A kindred thought occurs in Coriolanus^ acT: ii, 
 scene 1. 
 
 *' Our very priests must becom.e mockers^ if they 
 encounter such ridiculous subjects as you are." 
 
 StE EVEN'S. 
 
 156. I thank you: ] The poet has judiciously 
 
 marked the gloominess of Don John's character, by 
 making him averse to the common forms of civility. 
 
 Sir J. Hawkins. 
 
 183. to tell vSy Cupid is a good hare-Jindcr, 
 
 &c.] I know not whether I conceive the jest liere in- 
 tended.
 
 Acl I. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHIXG. I5 
 
 tended. ' Claudio liints liis love of Hero. Beneditk 
 asks, uliether he is serious, or whttiicr he only means 
 to jest, and tell them that Cupid is a good harc-fmdtr^ 
 and Vulcan a rare carpenter. A man praising a pretty 
 laJy in jest, may shew the quick siglit of Ciipi*.!, but 
 wliat has it to do with the carpentry of Vulcan ? Per- 
 haps the thought lies no deeper than tliis, Do you 
 mean to tell us as new what we alt know already ? 
 ; J O K X S O X , 
 
 ' I believe no more is meant by tliose hidicrcjus ex- 
 pressions tiian this — Do you mean, says Benedick, 
 to amuse us with improbable stories ? 
 
 An ingenious correspondent, whose signature is 
 R. W. explains the passage in the same sense, but 
 more amply : *' Do you mean to tell us that love is 
 not blind, and that fire will not consume what is com- 
 bustible?" for both these propositions are implied 
 
 in making Cupid a good hare-Jinder, and Vulcan (the 
 God of fire) a good carpenter. In other words, would 
 you convince me^ whose opinion on this head is well- &nowHf 
 that you can be in love without being blindy and can play 
 with tlujlamt of beauty without being scorched. 
 
 StE EVENS. 
 
 . I explain the passage thus : Doycu scojf and mock in 
 telling us that Cupidy who is blindy is a good harc-finder^ 
 which requires a quick eye-sight ; and that I u.'cany a 
 blacksmith J is a rare carpenter F loLLEi. 
 
 185. to go in the song f] i.e. to join with you 
 
 in your song — to strike in with you in the song. 
 
 Sfii EVENS.
 
 l6 ANNOTATIONS UPON Acl I, 
 
 197. wear his cap with suspicion ?'\ That is, 
 
 subject his head to the disquiet of jealousy. 
 
 Johnson, 
 In the Palace of Plcasurcy p.- 233, we -have the fol- 
 lowing passage : " Al they that zoeare homes be par- 
 doned to weare xXioiv capps upon their heads." 
 
 Henderson, 
 
 200. sigh away Sundays.'] This expression 
 
 most probably alludes to the stri6l manner in which 
 the Sabbath was observed by the Puritans, who usually 
 spent that day in sighs and gruntingSf and other hypo- 
 critical marks of devotion. Steevens. 
 214. Claud. If this were so, so were it uttered.] 
 Claudio, evading at first a confession of his passion, 
 says ; if I Iiad really confided such a secret to him, 
 yet he would have blabbed it in this manner. In his 
 next speech, he thinks proper to avow his love ; and 
 when Benedick says, God fordid it should be so, i. e. 
 God forbid he should even wish to marry her ; Claudio 
 replies — God forbid I should not wish it. Steevens, 
 
 235. hut in the force of his will,] Alluding 
 
 to the definition of a heretick in the schools. 
 
 Warburton. 
 
 ^39- — but that I will have a ^rec he at winded in 
 
 my forehead,] That is, / will wear a horn on my forehead., 
 XL'hich the huntsman may blow.. A recheate is the sound 
 by which dogs are called back. Shakspcre had no 
 mercy upon' the poor cuckold, his horn is an inex- 
 haustible subject of merriment. Johnson-. 
 Boj in the Pactum from Parnassus: 
 
 a —When
 
 AB I. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHI\G. 1/ 
 
 *' ^When you blow the death of your ^o\ in the 
 
 field or covert, then you must sound three notes, witli 
 three winds; and reclieatj mark, you, sir, upon the 
 same three winds." 
 
 ■ *' Now, sir, wlien you come to your stately gate, 
 as you sounded the rechtat before, so now you must 
 sound tlie relief three times." 
 
 Again, in the Book of Huntynge^ Sec. bl. let. no date, 
 «< Blow the whole rcchate with three wyndes, the first 
 wynde one longe and six shorte. The seconde wynde 
 two shorte and one longe. The thred wynde one 
 longe and two shorte." 
 
 Among Bagford's Collections relative to Typo- 
 graphy, in the British Museum., 1044, c. ii. in an 
 engraved half sheet, containing the ancient Hunting 
 Noies of England, &;c. Among these, I find. Single, 
 Double, and Treble Rechcats, Running Rechcat, 
 Warbling Reckeatj another Recfieat with -the tongue 
 very hard, another smoother Recheat, and another 
 warbling Rccheat. The musical notes are affixed to 
 them all. Stehvexs. 
 
 A rec/icate is a particular lesson upon the horn, to 
 call dogs b::ck from the scent : from the old l-icnch 
 word rcut, which was used in the same sense as n-- 
 traiie. Hanmer. 
 
 240. hang my bugle in an invisible ba/dncA,] 
 
 JBi/gle, i.e. buglc-hcrn or hunting-horn. Ihe mean- 
 ing seems to be— or that 1 should be compelled to 
 (.arry any liorn that 1 must wish to remain invisible, 
 
 and
 
 iS ANNOTATIONS UPON Atil, 
 
 and that I should be ashamed to hang openly m my 
 belt or baldrick. 
 
 It is still said of the mercenary cuckold, that h.e 
 carries his horns in his pockets. Stes v ens. 
 
 25;3. notable argiment.'] An eminent subject tor 
 
 satire. Johnson. 
 
 2^6. in a bottle like a caty ] As to the cat 
 
 and botcky I can procure no better information than 
 the following, v.-hich does not exactly suit v.itli the 
 text: 
 
 ■ In some counties of England, a cat was formerly 
 closed up with a quantity of soot in a wooden bottle 
 (such as that in which shepherds carry their liquor), 
 and was suspended on a line. He v.'ho beat out the 
 bottom as lie ran under it, and was nimble enough to 
 escape its contents, was regarded as the hero of this 
 inhuman diversion, Steevens. 
 
 257. and he that hits me^ let him be clap^d on the 
 
 shoulder^ andcaWd Adam.] But why should he there- 
 fore be call'd Adam? Perhaps, by a quotation or two 
 we may be able to trace the poet's allusion here. In 
 Law- Tricksj or, Who would have thought it (a comedy 
 written by John Day, and printed in 1608), I find this 
 speech: Adam Belly a substantial outlaw, and a passing 
 g-ood archer, ^'f/ no tobacconist. By this it appears, that 
 Adam Bell, at that time of day, was of reputation 
 for his skill at the bow. I find him again mentioned 
 in a burlesque poem of Sir William Davenant's, 
 called, The Long Vacation in London, Theobald. 
 
 Adaiji
 
 yf.7 /. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 1() 
 
 Adam Bell, Clym of the Clough, and William of 
 rioiidesly, were, says Dr, Percy, three noted out- 
 
 . s, whose skill in Archery rendered them former- 
 
 ::3 famous in the North of England, as Robin Hood 
 .i'.d his fellows were in the midland Counties. Their 
 place of residence was in the forest of Englewood, not 
 far from Carlisle. At what time they lived does not 
 appear. The author of the common ballads on T7ie 
 P'jJigrcey Education J and Marriage of Robin Hoed, makes 
 them contemporary with Robin Hood's father, in or- 
 der to give him tlie lionour of beating them. See 
 Reliques of ancient Poetry j Vol. I. p. 143, where the 
 ballad on these outlaws is preserved. Steevens. 
 
 260. In tiine the savage bull doth bear the yoke.'] This 
 line is taken from the Spanish Tragedy, or Hieronymoy 
 SiC. i6o^j, which itself, with a slight variation, is 
 taken from Watson's Sonnets, 4to. bl. let. printed 
 about 1,580. See Note on the last Edition of Dods- 
 ley's Old Plays, Vol. XII. p. 387. Steevexs. 
 
 269. if Cupid hath 7iot spent all his quiver in Ve- 
 nice,] All modern writers agree in representing Venice 
 in the same light as the ancients did Cyprus. And it 
 is this charafter of the people that is here alluded to. 
 
 Warburton. 
 
 284. guarded zoith fragments,'] Guards were 
 
 ornamental lace or borders. So, in the Merchant if 
 Venice : 
 
 " give him a livery 
 
 *' More guarded than his fenovvs.*'' 
 Again, in Henry IV. Part I. 
 
 *« —velvet
 
 90 ANNOTATIONS UPON AB I, 
 
 *' ■ — ' — velvet guards and Sunday citizens." 
 
 S T E E V E N S . 
 
 286. ere you Jlout oldendsy &c.] The ridicule 
 
 here is to the formal conclusions of Epistles dedicatory, 
 and Letters. Barnaby Googe thus ends his dedication 
 to tlie first edition of Palengenius, i2mo. 1560 : "And 
 thus ccmimittyng your Ladiship with all yours to the 
 tuicion of the moste merciful! Gody I ende. Frcni 
 Staple Inne at London, the eighte and twenty oi' 
 March." Reed, 
 
 317. The fairest grant Z5 the necessity :~\ i. e. no one 
 can have a better reason for granting a request than 
 the necessity of its being granted. VVarburton. 
 
 Mr. Hayley v;ith great acuteness proposes to read. 
 The fairest grant is to necessity. Steevens. 
 
 336. a thick-pleached alky] Thick- pleached is 
 
 thickly interwoven. In Antony and Cleopatra: 
 
 *' with pleached arms, bending down 
 
 ** His corrigible neck." Steevens, 
 
 353. Cousin, you know — (and afterwards) good 
 
 cousin ] Surely, brother and cousin never could have 
 
 had the same meaniivg : yet, as this passage stands at 
 present, Leonato appears to address himself to An- 
 tonio (or as he is styled in the first folio, the old raanj^ 
 his brother, whom he is made to call cousin. 
 
 It appears that several persons, I suppose Leonato's 
 kinsmen, are at tliis time crossing the stage, to whom 
 he here addresses himself. Accordingly, the old 
 
 copy reads, not cousin, but 
 
 *' Cousins J you know what you have to do."
 
 AB I, MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 21 
 
 You all know your several offices ; take care to assist in 
 making preparations at this iitsj time for ivy nczo guests. 
 1 would tiieicture read Cvusins inboUi ^'hices. 
 
 Ma LONE. 
 
 3,57, Don John'] Tlie folio lias Sir John. Ma lone. 
 
 Whaty the good jer, my Lrd 1] We oliould read, 
 goujere. Steevexs. 
 
 368. 1 cannot hide what I am:'] This is one 
 
 of our author's natural touches. An envious and un- 
 social mind, too proud to give pleasure, and too sul- 
 len to receive it, ahvays endeavours to hide its malig- 
 nity from the world and from itself, under the plain- 
 ness of simple honesty, or the dignity of haughty 
 independence. Johnson, 
 
 373. claw no man in his humour.'] To claw is to 
 
 flatrer. So the pope's claw-backs^ in bishop Jewel, 
 are the T^oye's flatterers. Tiie sense is the same in the 
 proverb, Mulus mulum scabit. Johnson, 
 
 In liylscn on Usuryy 1571, p. 141. 
 
 *' — ■ — therefore I will clawe him, and saye well 
 might he fare, and Godd's blessing have he too." 
 
 Reed. 
 
 382. / had rather be a canker in a hedgCy than a 
 rose in his grace ;] A canker is the canker rose, dog 
 ■ie, cyncshatusy ov hip, Johnson. 
 
 So, in Hey wood's Love''s Mistress, 1636 : 
 
 ** A rose, a lily, a blew-bottle, and a cunher 
 fiwer.'''' 
 Again, in Sl.akspere's 51th Sennet : 
 
 C *' The
 
 S2 ANNOTATIONS UPON ASl II, 
 
 <* The canker blooms have full as deep a die 
 " As the perfumed tinclure of the rose." 
 I think no change is necessary. Steevens. 
 
 The former speech, in my apprehension, shews 
 clearly that the old copy is right. Conrade had said : 
 " He hath ta'en you new into his grace, where it is 
 impossible that you should take root but by the fair 
 weather that you make yourself." To this Don John 
 replies, with critical correftness : ** I had rather be a 
 canker in a hedge, tlian a rose in his^racg.** We meet 
 a kindred expression in Macbeth : 
 
 ** Welcome hither : 
 
 *' I Iiave begun to plant thee, and will labour 
 " To make thee full of grczuing.''^ 
 Again, in K. Henry VI. Part III. 
 
 " V\\ plant Plantaganer, rcot him up who dares." 
 
 Malonf." 
 
 415. in sad conference 'jI Sad in this, as in 
 
 other instances, signifies j^rzowj. Steevens. 
 
 424. both sure, ] i. e. to be depended on. . 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 ACT II, 
 
 line 4. Hear T-BUR N\D an hour after,} 
 
 Tiie pain commonly called the heart-burn^ proceed 
 
 fro
 
 ■?//. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHIXG. 23 
 
 ni an acid humour in tlie stomacli, and is there- 
 :e properly enough imputed to tart looks. 
 
 JOHNSOX. 
 
 30. — — w woollen.] Thus the modern editors. 
 The old copies read in the woollen. Stee v ens. 
 
 &9. — if the prince be too important,] Lnpcrtant 
 l.ere, and in many other places, is importunate. 
 
 Johnson. 
 
 84. Balthazavy'] The quarto and folio add — or 
 i'.mbjohn. Steevens. 
 
 or dumb John. 1 Here is another proof, that wlien the 
 
 at copies of our author's plays were prepared for 
 r^ie press, the transcript was made out by the ear. 
 ■ ■ the MS. had lain before the transcriber, it is very 
 
 likely tiiat he should have mistaken Don for dumb : 
 : -It, by an inarticulate speaker, or inattentive hearer, 
 tb.ey might easily be confounded. Ma lone. 
 
 In answer to this remark, it is well observed by Mr. 
 
 :ed, that Don John's taciturnity has been already no - 
 
 cd. It seems therefore not improbable, that the 
 auihor himself might have occasionally applied the 
 epithet dumb to him. Henley. 
 
 gj. Pedro. Speak low^ &c.] This speech, which 
 is given to Pedro, should be given to Margaret. 
 
 Revisal. 
 
 98. Balth. V/ell^ I would you did like mc.^ This, 
 and the two following little speeches, which I have 
 placed to Balthazar, are in all the printed copies 
 given to Benedick. But, 'tis clear, the dialogue lieie 
 ought to be betwixt Balthazar and Margaret : Benc- 
 Cij diek,
 
 24 ANNOTATIONS UPON AEl II. 
 
 dick, a little lower, converses with Beatrice : and 
 so every man talks with his woman once round. 
 
 Theobald. 
 304. amen.l I do not concur with Theobald in his 
 arbitrary disposition of t!;ese speeches. Balthazar is 
 called in the ol 1 copies dumb Jofiriy as I have already 
 observed ; and therefore it should seem, that he was 
 meant to speak but little. Wlien Benedick says, 
 the hearers may cry, ameiiy we must suppose that he 
 leaves Margaret and goes in search of some other 
 sport. Margaret, utters a wish for a good partner. 
 Balthazar, who is represented as a man of tJie fewest 
 words, repeats Benedick's Amen, and leads lier off, 
 desiring, as he says in the following short speecli, 
 to put liimsclf to no gi eater expence of breath. 
 
 StE EVENS. 
 
 Tliis whole note is, I apprehend, founded on a 
 mistake ; or, in the stage- direftion in the old copy, 
 at the beginning of tins scene, was, I believe, an ac- 
 .cidental icpetition; and dumb, I suspe6t, was writ- 
 ren instead of Do/?, ti:roug]v the mistake of the tran- 
 scriber, whose ear deceived Iiim. 
 
 I tjiink it extremely probable, that the regulation 
 proposed ^y Theobald, and the author of tl e Revisal, 
 is right. Malone. 
 
 ]i6. -, his dry hand ] A ^^^7 hand was an- 
 ciently regarded as tlie sign of a cold constitution. To 
 this Ivjaria, in Twelfth Night, alludes, act i. sc. 3. 
 
 STEtVENS. 
 
 128. Hundred merry Tales', ] The book, 
 
 to which Shakspere alludes, was an old translation of 
 
 Les
 
 Acll!^ MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. £3 
 
 l.cs cent- Nonvelles Nonvelles. Tlie original was pub- 
 lished at Paris, in the black letter, before the yeaf 
 J ,500, and is said to have been written by some of the 
 royal family of France. Ames mentions a translation 
 cf it prior to the time of Sliakspere. 
 
 In the London Chaunticleres, 1659, this work, amon<T 
 others, is cry'd for sale by a ballad-man. *' The 
 Seven Wise Men of Gotham ; a Hundred Merry Tales ; 
 ifcoggin's Jests," &c. * 
 
 Again, in the Nice Valour y Sec. by Beaumont and 
 Fletcher : 
 
 (< ii^Q Almanacks, 
 
 *' ThQ Hundred Novels y and the Books of Cookery." 
 
 Of this collection there are frequent entries in the 
 register of the Stationers' Company. Tlie first I met 
 \Nith v/as in January 158 J. Steevexs. 
 
 This Book was certainly printed before the year 
 1,57,5, and in much repute, as appears from the men- 
 tion of it in Langham's Letter. Again, in T/ie Eng- 
 l:sh Courtier and the Cuntrey Gentleman^ bl, let. 1586. 
 
 Sign. H. 4. ** wee want not also plerisan/ mad- 
 
 lieaded knaves that bee properly learned and well 
 reade in diverse pleasant bookcs and good authors. 
 As Sir Guy of Warwicke, theFoureSonnes cf Amen, 
 the Ship of Fooles, the Budget of Demaundes, the 
 Hundredth Merry Talcs, the Booke of Rycldles, and 
 many other excellent writers both witty and plcasaunt." 
 It has been suggested to me, tliat there is no other 
 reason than the word hundred to suppose this book a 
 translation of the Cent Nouvdles Neuvcllcs. Reeu. 
 
 Ciij Jj6.
 
 26 ANNOTATIONS UPON AB 1h 
 
 136. — — his gift is in devising impossible slanders ;] 
 Impossible slanders are, I suppose, such slanders as, 
 from their absurdity and impossibility, bring their own 
 confutation with tliem. Johnson. 
 
 138. his villany\ — — ] By which she means 
 
 his malice and impiety. By his impious jests, she in- 
 sinuates, he pleased libertines ; and by his devising 
 slanders Qi\\\t\w^ he angred them. Warburton. 
 
 156. /zw bearing.]*/, e. his carriage, his de- 
 meanour. So, m Measure for Measure : 
 
 '* How I may formally in person bear me.'* 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 174. Therefore^ &c.] Lety which is found in the 
 next line, is understood here. Malone. 
 
 176. < -beauty is a witch y 
 
 Against whose charms faith melteth into blood.'] 
 i. e. as wax, when opposed to the fire kindled by a 
 witch, no longer preserves the figure of the person 
 whom it was designed to represent, but flows into a 
 shapeless lump ; so fidelity, when confronted with 
 beauty, dissolves into our ruling passion, and is lost 
 there like a drop of water in the sea- Steevens. 
 
 185. usurer s chain .?] Chains of gold in our 
 
 author's time, usually worn by wealthy citizens, in the 
 same manner as they now are by the aldermen of 
 London. See The Puritan, or Widow of JVatling- 
 Streety aft iii. sc. 3. Albumazar, act i. sc. 7. &:c. Reed. 
 
 Usury seems about this time to have been a common 
 topick of invetlive, I have three or four dialogues, 
 paiquils, and discourses on the subject, printed before 
 
 the
 
 ■J?//. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. §7 
 
 the year 1600. From every one of these it appears, 
 tiiat the mercliants were the chief usurers of the age. 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 203. — it is the bascy though bitter disposition of 
 ''] itriccy that puts the world into her persoTtfl That is. 
 It is the disposition of Beatrice^ who takes upon her t» 
 f^rsonaie the worlds and therefore represents the world as 
 saying what she only says herself. 
 
 Base, though bitter. I do not understand how base 
 r:;d bittersire inconsistent, or why what is bitter should 
 not be base. I bcheve, we may safely read, It is the 
 base, the ^?V/(?r disposition. Johnson. 
 
 The base thoiigh bitter, may mean the ill-natur'd 
 though zvitty. Steevens. 
 
 210. as melancholy as a lodge in a warren;] A 
 
 parallel thought occurs in the first chapter of Isaiah, 
 where the prophet, describing the desolation of Judah, 
 says: *' The daughter of Zion is left as a cottage in 
 a vineyard, as a lodge'xa a garden of cucumbers," &c. 
 I am informed, that near Aleppo, these lonely build- 
 ings are still made use of, it being necessary, that the 
 jfields where water-melons, cucumbei'S, Sec. are raised, 
 should be regularly watched. 1 learn from Tliomas 
 Kewton's Htrball to the Bible, 8vo. 1587, that " so 
 soone as the cucumbers, lS<:c. be gathered, tlicse 
 lodges are abandoned of the watchmen and keepers, 
 and no more frequented." From these forsaken 
 buildings, it should seem, the prophet takes his com- 
 parison. Steevens. 
 
 Lod^ei
 
 £8 ANNOTATIONS UPON A611L 
 
 Ledges \\'Q.\'t formerly common in our warrens^ and 
 in many of them tl;ey may still be seen ; so that Shak- 
 spere^need not liave gone for this to a cucumber-gar- 
 den in Judaea. Henley. 
 
 212. — cf this young lady ;] Benedick speaks of 
 Kero as if she were on the stage. Perhaps, both she 
 and Leonato, were meant to make their entrance 
 witli Don Pedro. When Beatrice enters, she is 
 spoken of as coming in with only Claudio. 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 241. such iva^oiiWAQ convey anccy ] Impossi' 
 
 hie may be licentiously used ior unaccountable. Beatrice 
 has already said, that Benedick invents impossible 
 slanders. 
 
 So, in tlie Fair maid cf the Inn, by Beaumont and 
 Fletcher : 
 
 ** You would look for some most impossible 
 antick." 
 Again, in the Roman Aclcvy by Massinger : 
 
 " = to lose 
 
 " Ourselves, by building on impossible hopes." 
 
 I believe the meaning is zoith a rapidity equal to 
 
 that (^jugglers, who appear to perform impossibilities. 
 
 Conveyance was the commori term^ in our author's 
 time for slight of hand. Malon e. 
 
 Dr. Warburton reads impassable, and this agrees 
 with what follows — *' that I stood like a man at a 
 mark, with a whole army shooting at me." * * *, 
 
 263. — bring you the length of prester John's foot ^ 
 fetch you a hair off the great Cham's beard j j i. e. I will 
 
 under-
 
 j^c} II. MUCH ADO ABOUT XOTIIIXG. 29 
 
 'dertake the liardest task, rather than have any con- 
 crsation with lady Beatrice. Alhidiiig to the diffi- 
 culty of access to eirher of tiiose nior.archs, but more 
 "irticularly to the former. 
 
 So Cartwright, in liis comedy call'd The Siege, or 
 L one's Convert y 1 64 1 : 
 
 '* bid me take the Parthian king by the beard : 
 
 ~ draw an eye-tooth from the jaw royal of the 
 1 crsian monarch." Steevens. 
 
 270. my lady''s Tongue."] Thus the quarto 
 
 i5jo. The folio reads tins lady tongue. 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 290. civil as an orange.'] This conceit occurs 
 
 ! 'lewise in Nash's four Letters confuted, 1592. *' For 
 le order of my life it is as civii as an orange.'*'' 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 291. of that jealous complexion.] Thus the 
 
 c larto 1600. The folio reads, of di jealous complexicn. 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 014. Thus goes every one to the world but I, and 1 am. 
 
 i-buTTid\] What is it, to go to the world? perhaps, 
 
 ' enter by marriage into a settled state ; but why is 
 
 tiie immarry'd lady sun-burnt? I Ijelieve we should 
 
 read, Thus goes every one to the wood but J, and I am. 
 
 sun-burnt. Thus does every one but I find a shelter, 
 
 and I am left exposed to wind and sun. The nearest 
 
 way to the wood, is a phrase for the readiest means to 
 
 any end. It is said of a woman, who accepts a worse 
 
 match than those which she had refused, tliat she has 
 
 passed through the wood, and at last taken a crooked 
 
 stick.
 
 30 ANNOTATIONS UPON AEt II, 
 
 Stick. But conjeiSlural criticism has always something* 
 to abate its confidence. Shakspere, in All's Well that 
 Ejid''s Welly uses tlie phrase, to go to the world, for 
 marriage. So that my emendation depends only on the 
 opposition of wood to sun-burnt. Johnson. 
 
 I am sun-burnt, may mean, I have lost my beauty, 
 and am consequently no longer such an objed as can 
 tempt a man to marry. Steevens. 
 
 342. — - — sh^ hath often dreamed (/" unhappiness,] 
 Thus Beaumont and Fletcher, in their comedy of the 
 Maid of the Mill: 
 
 ** — — il/y dreams are like my thoughts, honest and 
 
 irinocnit : 
 ** 2owrj(Zrc unhappy.'" 
 2. e. wild, wanton, unlucky, Warburton. 
 
 361. to bring signior Benedick, and the lady 
 
 Beatrice, into a mountain of affcBion, the one with the 
 ether.'] A mountain of affeBion with one another is a 
 strange expression, yet 1 know not well how to change 
 it. Perhaps it was originally v/ritten, to bring Bene- 
 dick and Beatrice into a mooting of affcBion 5 to bring 
 them not to any more vicotings of contention, but to a 
 mooting or conversation of love. This reading is con- 
 firmed by the prepostion with ; a jnountain with each 
 othtr, or ojjeciion with each ether, cannot be used, but 
 a mooting with each other is proper and regular. 
 
 Johnson. 
 
 Uncommon as tlic word proposed by Dr. Johnson' 
 may appear, it is used in several of the old plays 
 So, in Glapthorncs Wit in a Constable, 1639 : 
 
 **— onc^^
 
 AdlL MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 01 
 
 o ■* 
 
 *' one who never 
 
 *' Had mooted in the hall, or seen tlie revels 
 *' Kept in the house at Christmas." 
 Again, in the Return from Parnassus^ 1606: 
 
 '* It is a plain case whereon I viocted in our 
 temple.'* 
 Again, *' — at a TKcoting In our temple." Ibid. 
 
 And yet all that I believe is meant by a mountain of 
 offtElicn^ is a great deal of affcBion. 
 
 In one of StanykirsCs poems, is the following phrase 
 to denote a large quantity of love : 
 
 " Lii'mpsOilGxe promist, nothing perrorm'd,"&c. 
 Again, in the Renegade, by Massir.ger : 
 
 *' 'tis but parting with 
 
 *' A 7ncuntain of vexation." 
 .Thus In K. Henry Fill. " a sea of glory." In Hamlst, 
 <' a sea of trouble." Again, in Howers History of 
 Venice : '* xhow^Xhey sttmountains of miseries heaped 
 on one's back." Again, in Bacon's History of King 
 Henry VH. " Perkin sought to corrupt t!ie servants to 
 th.e lieutenant of the tower by mountains of promises." 
 Again, in the Ccmedy of Errors: *' — the mountain of 
 mad flesh that claims marriage of mc." Little can 
 be inferred from Shakspere's offence against grammar. 
 J\^r. Malone observes, that, *' Shakspere has many 
 phrases equally harsh. He who would liazard such 
 expressions as a storm of fortunes , a vale of years, and 
 a tempest of provocation, would not scruple to write a 
 -mountain cf ajfe^lion.'" Steevens. 
 
 375-
 
 gs ANNOTATIONS UPON A61 //. 
 
 375. a noi^/t strain, ] i. t descent, lineage. 
 
 So, in the Fairy Queen, B. IV. c. viii. s. 33. 
 
 << Sprung from the auncient stocke of prince's 
 straine,^* 
 Again, B- V. c ix. s. 32. 
 
 " Sate goodly temperaunce in garments clene, 
 «' And sacred reverence yborne of heavenly 
 strene " 
 416. Bora, Go theriy jind me a meet hour to drazo 
 Don PcdrOf and the count Claudioj alone : tell them that 
 you know Hero loves me \— Offer them instances., which 
 shall bear no less likelihood than to see me at her chamber.- 
 window; hear me call Margarety Hero \ hear Margaret 
 term me Claud io ; and bring them to see this, the very 
 night before the intended wedding ;] Tlius the whole 
 stream of the editions from the first quarto downwards. 
 I am obliged here to give a short account of the plot 
 depending, that the emendation I have made may 
 appear the more clear and unquestionable. TJie bu- 
 siness stands thus : Claudio, a favourite of the Ar- 
 ragon prince, is by his intercessions with her father, 
 to be married to fair Hero 9 Don John, natural bro- 
 ther of the prince, and a hater of Claudio, is in his 
 spleen zealous to disappoint the match. Borachio, a 
 rascally dependant on Don John, offers his assistance, 
 and engages to break off the marriage by this stra- 
 t:5gem. " Tel! the prince and Claudio (says lie) that 
 Hero is in love with me\ they won't believe it: ofier 
 them proofs, as, that they shall see me converse with 
 her in licr cl.amber-vvindow. 1 am intliegood graces 
 
 of
 
 A51 II. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 35 
 
 of her waiting-woman, Margaret; and I'll prevail 
 with Margaret, at a dead hour of niglit, to personate 
 her mistress Hero j do you then bring tlie prince and 
 Claudio to overhear our discourse j and thev shall 
 have tj'.e torment to liear ?ne address Margaret by the 
 name of Hero ; and her say sweet things to me by the 
 
 name of Claudio." This is the substance of Bo- 
 
 rachio's device to make Hero suspected of disloyalty, 
 and to break otf her match with Claudio. But, in 
 the name of common sense, could it dis; lease Claudio, 
 to hear liis mistress making use of Ais name tenderly ? 
 If he saw another man with her, and heard her call 
 him Claudio, he might reasonably think her betrayed, 
 but not have the same reason to accuse her of disloy- 
 alty. Besides, how could her naming Claudio, make 
 the prince and Claudio believe that she lov'd Bo- 
 rachio, as he desires Don John to insinuate to them 
 that she did ? The circumstances weighed, there is no 
 doubt but the passage ought to be reformed, as I have 
 settled in the text — kear me call Margaret, Hero; hear 
 Margaret term me Borachio. Theobald. 
 
 I am not convinced that this exchange is necessaiy, 
 Claudio would naturally resent the circumstance of 
 hearing another called by his own name ; because, ia 
 that case, baseness of treachery would appear to be 
 aggravated by wantonness of insult ; and, at the same 
 time he would imagine the person so distinguished to be 
 £ar<2c/izo, because Don John was previously to have in- 
 formed both him and Don PedrOf that Borachio was tlic 
 f;ivoured lover. Stelvfns.
 
 34 ANNOTATIONS UPON AEl IL 
 
 457. carving the fashion of a new doublet.lTKis 
 
 folly, so conspicuous in the gallants of former ages, is 
 laughed at by all our comick writers. So in Greene's 
 FarcwtU to Folly, 1617: ** — ^We are almost as fan- 
 tastick as the English gentleman that is painted naked, 
 with a pair of sheers in his hand, as not being re- 
 solved after what fashion to have his coat cut." 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 The English gentleman in the above extraft alludes 
 
 to a plate in Borde's Introduction. Reed. 
 
 ^60. orthographer ; ] The old copies read 
 
 '—orthography. Steevens. 
 
 ' 474* — ^'^''■^ ^'■^'"^ ^^-^"^ 5//^// be of what colour it please, 
 &c. ] Perhaps Benedick alludes to a fashion, very 
 common in the time of Skakspere, that of dying the 
 hair. 
 
 StuhBs, in hh Anatomy of Abuses, 1595, speaking of 
 the attires of women's heads, says : " If any have 
 haire of her ozone naturall growing, which is not faire 
 yncngh^ then will they die it in divers collours.'^ 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 481. Pedro. See where Benedick hath hid himself? 
 
 Claudio. 0, very zoell, my lord: the inusick ended, 
 
 zceUlft the kid-fox with a penny -worth. '\ i. e. we will 
 
 be even with the fox now discovered. So the word 
 
 kid, or kidde, signifies in Chaucer: 
 
 **Thesoothfastness that now is hid, 
 
 ** Without coverture shall htkid 
 
 ** When I undoen have this dreming." 
 
 Romaiint of the Rose, 2171, Sec. 
 ** Perceiv'd
 
 'SI II. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 35 
 
 *' Perceiv'd or shcw'd. 
 
 ** He kidde anon his bone was not broken." 
 
 "Troilus and Cresseidey lib. i. 208. 
 *' With that anon sterte out daungere, 
 *' Out of the place where he washiddej 
 *< His malice in his cheere was kidde.^' 
 
 Romaunt of the Rose^ 2130, 
 
 Grey. 
 
 It is not impossible but that Shakspere chose, on this 
 
 occasion, to employ an antiquated word; and yet, if any 
 
 future editor should choose to read — hid fox, he may 
 
 observe that Hamlet has said — *'//zV/e fox andall after.'* 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 A kid-fox seems to be no more than ^. young fox or 
 
 cub. Remarks. 
 
 539. Stalk oUf stalk oriy the fowl sits.'] This is 
 
 an allusion to the stalking-horse ; a horse either real or 
 factitious, by which tlie fowler anciently shelter'd him- 
 self from the sight of the game. 
 So, in the Honest Lawyer y 1616: 
 
 ** Lye there thou happy warranted case 
 *< Of any villain. Thou hast been my stalking- 
 horse 
 <' Now these ten months." 
 Again, in the 25th Song of Drayton's Polyolbion : 
 
 *' One underneath his horse to get a slioot doth 
 stalk:' 
 Again, in his Muses Elysium: 
 
 <' Then underneath my horse, I stalk my game 
 
 to strike." Steevens. 
 
 Dij Again,
 
 36 ANNOTATIONS UPON AB II, 
 
 Again, in New Shreds of the Old SnarCj by John Gee, 
 quarto, p. 23. 
 
 <* iMetbinks I behold the cunning fowler, such 
 
 as I liave knowne in the fenne countries and els- 
 vvliere, that doe shoot at woodcockes, snipes, and Avildc 
 fovvle by sneaking behind a painted cloth which they 
 can-ey before them, having pictured in it tlie shape of 
 a horse ; which, while the silly fovvle gazeth on, is 
 knockt downe with hale shot, and so put in the fowler's 
 budget." Mr. Reed, in addition to tliis quotation, 
 might have referred to the Aviceptologie Fran^oise; 
 where the author, after giving directions for a similar 
 contrivance, observes : — c'est dans ce moment, ovi la 
 vache artijicielle devient aux animaux ce que, d'apres 
 Viigilc, fut aux Troy ENS le fameux chev^al de bois. 
 
 Henley. 
 
 548. but that she loves him with an enraged ajfec* 
 
 tion: — it is past the infinite of thought. '\ The sense is, 
 / know not what to think otherwise, but that she loves him 
 with an enraged aJfe£lion: It (tliis affedtion) is past the 
 infinite of thought. Infinite is used by most careful 
 writers for indefinite : the speaker means, that thought, 
 tb.ough in itself unbounded, cannot reach or estimate 
 the degree of her passion. Johnson. 
 
 The meaning I tliink is but with what an en- 
 raged affedion she loves him, it is beyond the power of 
 thought to conceive. Ma LONE, 
 
 ^^6. This says she now when she is beginning to write 
 to him : for she'll be up twenty times a nigh.t ; and there 
 she'll sit in her smock, 'till she have writ a sheet of 
 
 paper :]
 
 Acl II. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 37 
 
 paper :] Shakspere has more than once availed him- 
 self of such incidents as occurred to him from history, 
 &c. to compliment the princes before whom iiis pieces 
 were performed. A striking instance of flattery to 
 James occurs in Macbeth ; periiaps the passage here 
 quoted was not less grateful to Elizabeth, as it appa- 
 rently alludes to an extraordinary trait in one of the 
 letters pretended to have been written by the hated 
 Mary to Bothwell ; 
 
 ^' I am nakity and ganging to sleep, and zit I cease 
 not to scribble all this paper, in so meikle as rest is 
 thairof." T/iat isy I am naked, and going to sleepe, 
 and yet I cease not to scribble to the end of my paper, 
 much of it as remains unwritten. Henle y. 
 
 587. Oy she tore the letter into a thousand half-pence j] 
 A farthing and perhaps a halfpennyy was used to sig- 
 nify any small particle or division. So, in the cha- 
 racter of the Prioress in Chaucer : 
 
 *' That in hire cuppe was no fer thing sene 
 ♦* Of grese, whan she dronken haddle hire 
 draught." 
 
 ProL to the Cant. Talesy late edit. v. 133. 
 Steevens. 
 
 615. have duff'd ] To dajf is the same as 
 
 to daff'y to do offy to put aside. So in Macbeth : 
 << to ^2^ their dire distresses." 
 
 Steevens. 
 626. contemptible spirit.'] That is, a temper in- 
 clined to scorn and contempt. It has been before re- 
 marked, that our author uses his verbal adjedive 
 D i ij with
 
 gS ANNOTATIONS UPON AB III, 
 
 with great licence. There is, therefore, no need of 
 changing the word with sir T. Hanmer to contemptuous. 
 
 Johnson- . 
 
 In tlie argument to Darius^ a tragedy, by lord Ster- 
 
 line, 1603, it is said, that Darius wrote to ///fA:tf??</fr 
 
 *' in a proud and contemptible va^mi&r.'" In this place, 
 
 contemptible certainly means contemptuous. 
 
 Again, Drayton, in tlie 24th Song of his Poholbiout 
 speaking in praise of a hermit, says, that he, 
 
 " 1 he mad timiultuous world contemptibly forsook, 
 ** And to his quiet cell by Crowland him betook." 
 
 Steevens. 
 6:6, was sadly borne. "^ i.e. was seriously car- 
 ried on. St£EV ENS. 
 
 ACT III. 
 
 tine 3. i- ROPOSING zvith the prince and Claudio f^ 
 Proposinn is conversing, from the French word — pro- 
 pose discourse, talk. Srt evens. 
 .37. As haggards of the rock.] Turbervile, in his book 
 of Falcon}yy 1575, tells us, that *'• the haggard doth 
 come fioni foreign parts a stranger and a passenger;'* 
 and lathaniy who wrote after him, says, that ♦' she 
 keeps in subjection the most part of ali the fowl that 
 fiy, insomuch, tliat the tassel gentle, her natural and 
 chiefest companion, dares not come near that coast 
 where she usctli, nor sit by the place wh.re she stand- 
 
 eih.
 
 A61 III. MUCA ADO ABOUT NOTHING, 39 
 
 eth. Such is the greatness of her spirit, s/ie will not 
 admit of any society^ until such a time as nature work- 
 eth," &c. So, in The tragical history of Didaco and 
 Violent a J 157 6: 
 
 " Perchaunce she's not of haggard's kind, 
 *' Nor heart so hard to bend," Sec. 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 44. To vvisli him ] i. e. recommend or desire. 
 
 So in The Honest Whore ^ 1604 : . 
 
 *' Go wish the surgeon to have great respect." 
 
 Reed.' 
 
 47* as full, &C.'] A full bed means a rich wife. 
 
 So in Othello : 
 
 " What a yi^// fortune doth the thick-lips owe ?'* 
 &c. Steevens. 
 
 - 54. Misprising ] Despising, contemning. 
 
 Johnson. 
 
 To misprise is to undervalue) or take in a wrong 
 
 light. Steevens. 
 
 64. spell him backward : ] Alluding to the 
 
 pra*5tice of witches in uttering prayers. 
 
 The following passages containing a similar train of 
 thought, are from Lilly's Anatomy of Wity 1581. 
 
 ** If one be hard in conceiving, they pronounce him 
 a dowlte : if given to studie, they proclaim him a 
 dunce: if merry, a jester: if sad, a saint: if full of 
 words, a sot : ii without speech, a cypher : if one ar- 
 gue with him boldly, then is he impudent : if coldly, 
 an innocent : if there be reasoning of divinitie, they 
 4 cry,
 
 40 ANNOTATIONS UPON AB III* 
 
 t^ry* Q"3e supra nos, nihil ad nos : if of hiiinanitic,. 
 sententias loquitur carnifex." 
 
 Again, p. 44. b. ♦' — if he be cleanly, they [wo- 
 men] term him proude; if meene in apparel, a slo- 
 ven; if tall, a lungis : if short, adwarfe: if bold, 
 blunt: ifshame-fac'd, acowarde, &c. P. 55. If she 
 be well set, then call her a bosse : if slender, a hasill 
 twig : if nut brown, black as a coal : if well colour'd, 
 a painted wail : if she be pleasant, then is she wan- 
 ton : if sullen, aclowne: ifhonest, then is she coye.'* 
 
 Steevens. 
 66. If black, zohyy nature^ drawing of an antick. 
 
 Made a foul blot :^-^ ] The antick was a 
 
 bufibon characler in the old English farces, with a 
 blacked face y and a patch-work habit. What I would 
 observe from hence is, that the name of antick or an^ 
 tique, given to this charafter, shews that the people 
 bad some traditional ideas of its being borrowed from 
 i\\t. aiicient mimcsy who are thus described by Apu- 
 leius, ** Mimi ccntunculo, fuligine facicm obduEii.''' 
 
 Warburtox. 
 69. This comparison might have been borrowed 
 from an ancient bl. let, ballad, entitled, A Comparison, 
 if the Life of Man. 
 
 *' 1 may compare a man againe 
 " Even like unto a twining vanCj 
 *' That changeth even as doth the wind; 
 <* Indeed so is man's fickle mind." Steevens. 
 79. — press me to death — ] I'liC allusion is to an 
 iincicnt punishment of our law, Qd\\Qi\ peine fort et dure,\ 
 
 \^Iiich]
 
 /icl III. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 4I 
 
 which was formerly infl.cted on those persons, who, 
 being indicled, lefused to plead. In consequence of 
 their silence, they were pressed to death by an heavy 
 weight laid upon their stomach. This punishment 
 the good sense and humanity of the legislature have 
 within these few years abolished. Malone, 
 
 83. IVhicli is as bad as die with tickling.] The au- 
 tlior meant that tickling should be pronounced as a 
 trisyllable, tickeling. So, in Spenser, B. II. Canto 12. 
 " The while sweet Zephirus loud whisteled 
 ** His treble, a strange -kind of harmony ; 
 " Which Gayon's senses softly tichlcd,'"'' &c. 
 
 Malone. 
 
 99. argument ] This word seems here to 
 
 signify dzsccurse, or, the poiuen of reasoning. 
 
 Johnson. 
 107. She's linidy ] She is ensnared and en- 
 tangled as a sparrow with birdlime. JOH]:':soN. 
 So, in the Spanish Tragedy : 
 
 " Which sweet conceits are /mV with sly deceits.'* 
 
 The folio reads She's taen, Steeyens. 
 
 1 10. Whatjire is in mine ears ? ] Alluding to a 
 
 proverbial saying of the common people, that their 
 cars burn, when others are talking of them. 
 
 Warburton, 
 
 The opinion from whence this proverbial saying is 
 
 derived, is of great antiquity, being thus mentioned 
 
 by Pliny : " Moreover is not this an opinion generally 
 
 received, That wlien our tars do glow and tingle^ 
 
 some
 
 42 ANNOTATIONS UPON A8 III, 
 
 some there be that in our absence do talke of us.-' 
 Phileinon Holland^s Translation, B. XXVIII. p.' 297, 
 and Browiis Vulgar Errors. Reed. 
 
 115. Taming my wild heart to thy lovi?ig hand ; ] This 
 image is taken from falconry. She had been charged 
 with being as wild as haggards of the rock ; she there- 
 fore says, that wild as her heart is, she will tame it to 
 the hand. Johnson. 
 
 124. Nay, that would be as great a soil in the new 
 gloss cf your marriage, as to shew a child his new 
 coat, and forbid him to wear it.] So, in Romeo and 
 Juliet: 
 
 ** As is the night before some festival, 
 
 *< To an impatient child, that hath new robes, 
 
 *' And may not wear them." Steevens. 
 
 130. the little hangman dare not shoot at him :~\ 
 
 This character of Cupid came from the Arcadia of sir 
 Philip Sidney: 
 
 " Millions of ycares this old drivell Cupid 
 lives ; 
 ** While still more wretch, more wicked he doth 
 prove : 
 <* 'Till now at length that Jove him office gives, 
 *' (At Juno's suite who much did Argus love) 
 " In this our world a hangman for to be 
 *' Of all those fooles that will have all they 
 see." B.II. ch. 14. Farmer. 
 
 131. as a hell, and his tongue is the clapper \ 
 
 &c.] A covert allusion to the old proverb : 
 
 **As^
 
 AB III. MUCH ADC ABOUT NOTHING. 43 
 
 *' As tlie fool thinketh 
 ** So the bell clinketh." Steevens. 
 
 150. There is no appearance o/" fancy, &c-'\ Here is 
 a play upon the wordyancy, which Shakspere uses for 
 /otr, as well asfor )^WOT5«r, caprice^ ox aff eolation. 
 
 Johnson. 
 154. — c// slops.] Slops are large Xoo^t brctdus ox 
 trowsersy worn only by sailors at present. They are 
 mentioned by Jonson, in his Alchymist ; 
 
 " six great slops 
 
 " Bigger than three Dutch hoys.'"'' 
 Again, m Ram Alley y or Merry Tricks^ 1611: 
 
 '* three pounds in gold 
 
 '* These slops contain." St E evens. 
 
 164. — and the old ornament cf his cheek hath already 
 stufF'd tennis-balls.] So, in A wonderful^ strangey and 
 miraculous astrological Prognostication for this Year of 
 our Lord 1591 ; written by Nashe, in ridicule of 
 Richard Harvey: " — they may sell their haire by 
 the pound to stuffe tcnnice balks.'' St E evens. 
 
 Again, m Ram Alley, or Mcny Tricks y 1611. 
 ** Thy beard shall serve to stujfxhost balls by which. 
 I get me heat at Tenice." 
 Gentle Crafty 1600. 
 
 " He shave it off, and stifc tenice balles with it.'* 
 
 Henderson. 
 
 186, She shall be biirici zuith her face vpzjards.'\ 
 
 Thus the whole set of editions ; but what, is there any 
 
 way particular in tliis > Are not all men and women 
 
 buried ^o ? Sure, tlie pcet means, in opposition to 
 
 tlie
 
 4i ANNOTATIONS UPON AB Ilh 
 
 tlie general rule, and by way of distinction, with her 
 heels upwards, or face downwards. I have chosen the 
 first reading, because I find it the expression in vogue 
 in our author's time. Theobalev, 
 
 I This emendation, M'hich appears to me very specious, 
 is rejefted by Dr. Warburton. Johnson. 
 
 T heobald's conjecture may, however, be supported 
 by a passage in The Wild Goose Chace of Beaumont and 
 Fletcher : 
 
 " love cannot starve me : 
 
 ** For if I die o'th' first fit, I am unhappy, 
 ** And worthy to be buried with my heels upwards.*^ 
 The passage, indeed, may mean only — She shall be 
 Juried in her lover'' s artns. So, in The Winter'' s Tale : 
 '•^ Flo. What ? like u corse ? 
 *' "Per. No, like a bank for love to lie and 
 play on ; 
 
 ^* Not like a corse : or if, — not to be buried^ 
 
 ** But quick and in my arms.^^ Steevens. 
 
 223. Leonalo's HerOy your HerOy every man's Hero.'] 
 JDryden has transplanted this sarcasm into his All for 
 Love". 
 
 " Your Cleopatra j Dolabella's Cleopatra ; every 
 man's Cleopatra." Steevens. 
 
 258. Well, give them their charge^ ] To charge 
 
 his fellows, seems to have been a regular part ot the 
 duty of the constable of tlie W^tch. So, in A Neza 
 Trick to cheat the Devily 1639; *' My watch is set— 
 charge given — and all at peace." Again, in The Insa- 
 tiate Co'jnteiSj by Marston, 1603 : ** Come on, my 
 
 iiCv-irtsj
 
 Examples of Ancient Bills, 
 
 mentioned in Much ado about Notkingi
 
 Acl Ilh MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 45 
 
 hearts J we are the city's security — I'll give you your 
 charge. Ma lone. 
 
 293. bills be not stolen /] A bill is still carried 
 
 by the watchmen at Litchfield. It was the old weapon 
 of English infantry, which, says Tempie, gave the 
 Tnoit ghastly and deplorable wounds. It may be called 
 seen risfa Icata. Johnson, 
 
 These weapons are mentioned in Glapthorne's Wit 
 in a Constable^ 1 639 : 
 
 ^' ^\Vell said, neighbours ; 
 
 *' You're chatting wisely o"er your bills and 
 lan'.horns, 
 
 " As becomes watchmen of discretion." 
 Again, in Arden of Feversham, 1592 : 
 
 " the watcii 
 
 *' Are coming tow'rd our house with glaives and 
 
 bills:' 
 
 For examples of ancient bills, see the print. 
 
 Steevens. 
 317. If you hear a child cry, &:c ] It is not im- 
 possible but that part of this scene was intended as a 
 burlesque on The Statute of the Streets, imprinted by 
 Wolfe, in 1595. Among these I find the following; 
 
 22. ** No man shall blowe any home in the nigh% 
 within this cittie, or whistle after the houre of nyne 
 of the clock, in the night, under the paine of impri- 
 sonment." 
 
 23. *' No man shall use to goe witli visoures, or 
 disguised by night, under the like paine of iinpriion- 
 jjient." 
 
 B 84.
 
 46 ANNOTATIONS UPON A& III, 
 
 24. ** Made that night-walkers, and evisdropers, 
 like punishment." 
 
 25, *' No hamniar-man, as a smith, apewterer, a 
 founder, and all artificers making great sound, shall 
 not worke after the houre of nyne at night," &c. 
 
 30. ** No man shall, after the hour of nyne at 
 night, keepe any rule, whereby any such suddaine out- 
 cry be made in the still of the night, as making any 
 affray, or beating his wyfe, or servant, or singing, or 
 revyling in his house, to the disturbaunce of his neigh- 
 bours, under payne of iiis. iiiid." &c. Sec. 
 
 Ben Jonson, however, appears to have ridiculed 
 this scene in the Induction to his Bartholomew- Fair : 
 
 ** And then a substantial watch to have stole in upon 
 'em, and taken them away with mistaking words^ as 
 the fashion is in the stage practice." Steevens. 
 
 369. ■ thou art wiconf.rni'd : ] i. e. un- 
 practised in the ways of the world. Warburto.n, 
 
 387. rt^chy painting ; ] Is painting stain'd 
 
 by smoke. So, in Hail's Beer Pofs Invisible Comedy^ 
 2618 : 
 
 <<: —he look'd so reechily 
 
 *' Like bacon hanging on the chimney's roof." 
 From Recan, Anglo-Saxon, to reek, fiunare, Lat. 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 388. sometime, like the shaven Hercules, &c.] 
 
 The shaven Hercules, meant Hercules when shaved to make \ 
 hirn look Like a woman, while he remained in tl-e service 
 of Ompliale, his Lydian mistress. Steevens. 
 
 389.
 
 A51 111. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 47 
 
 389. smirched ] Smirched is soiled, ob- 
 scured. So, in As you Like It^ act i. sc. 3. 
 
 " And with a kind of umber smirck my face." 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 42,3, zoean a bck.'\ So in the Return from Par- 
 
 7:aisiis, 1600 : 
 
 ** He whose thin fire dwells in a snioky roofo, 
 
 '* Must take tobacco, and must wear a lock.'" 
 
 See Dr. Warburton's Note, act v. sc. 1 . Steeve n s. 
 
 426. Conr. Masters^ Masters, Sec] In former 
 copies : 
 
 Conr. Masters. 
 
 2 Watch. Tou'il be made bring Deformed forth, I war- 
 rant you. 
 
 Conr. Masters never speak, we charge you, let us obey 
 you to go with us. 
 
 The regulation xvhich I have made in this last 
 speech^ though against the autliority of allthe printed 
 copies, I flatter myself, carries its proof with it. 
 Conrade and Borachio are not designed to talk absurd 
 npnsense. It is evident, therefore, that Conrade is 
 attempting his own justification ; but is interrupted in 
 it by the impertinence of the men in office. Theobald. 
 
 441. rabato ] A neckband; -di'^iff. Rabat, 
 
 French. Hanmer. 
 
 RabatOy an ornament for the neck, a collar-band, 
 or kind of rulf. Fr. Rabat. Menage saith it comes 
 from rabattre to put back, because it was at first no- 
 thing but the collar of the shirt or shift turn'd back 
 towards the shoulders. Hawkins. 
 
 E i j This
 
 4^ ANNOTATIONS UPON AB, lit* 
 
 This article of dress is frequently mentioned by our 
 ancienr coniick writers. 
 
 So, in the comedy of Law Tricks^ &c. 1608 : 
 *' Broke broad jests upon her narrow heel, 
 *' Pok'd her rabatosy and survey'd her steel.''* 
 Again, in Decker's Satiromastix, 1602: — '< He would 
 persuade me that love was a rabatOy and liis reason 
 was, that a rabato was worn out with pinning," &-c. 
 
 Again, in Decker's Untrussing the Humourous Poet : 
 What a miserable thing it is to be a noble bride ! 
 There's such delays in rising, in fitting gowns, in pin- 
 ning rf^a/ow, in poakingj'" 8cc, 
 
 The first and last of these passages will likewise serve 
 for an additional explanation of thQ poking- sticks of steely 
 mentioned by Autolycus in the Winter's Tale. 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 479* Light oHove ; ] This tune is mentioned 
 
 in Beaumont and Fletcher's Tioo Noble Kinsmen, Tlie 
 gaoler's daughter, speaking of a horse, says, 
 *' He gallops to the tune of Light o'love.'* 
 It is mentioned again in the Two gentlemen of Verona ^ 
 
 " Best sing it to the tune of Light o'love."' 
 And in the Noble gentleman of Beaumont and Fletcher. 
 
 Steevens* 
 
 Light
 
 Acl ///. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ^^ 
 
 Ljcr/it o'lote.'\ 1 his is the name of an old dance tune 
 \vliich has occurred ah"eady in the Two Gentlemen qf 
 rerona : I have lately recovered it from an ancient 
 MS. and it is as follows : 
 
 i 
 
 # 
 
 5Z3C^*~^" 
 
 i 
 
 w^ 
 
 —J- 
 
 ^^^^^i 
 
 ^ 
 
 i 
 
 -^-ii^ 
 
 ^. 
 
 ^^^^^m 
 
 p 
 
 Sir John Hawkins. 
 
 484. ?io barns.'] A. quibble between iarns, re- 
 positories of corn, and bairns^ the old word for cliil- 
 dren. Johnson. 
 
 So, in the Winter's Tde : *' Mercy on us, a barn! a 
 very pretty <5ar;z/" Steevens. 
 
 489. Hey ho! 
 
 Marg. For a hauikj a horsey or a husband ?] '■^ Heigh 
 
 ho for a husband^ or the willing maid';> wants made 
 
 Eiij knawn^"
 
 50 ANNOTATIONS UPON A8 III, 
 
 known," is the tide of an old ballad in the Pepysian 
 CoUecliion, in Magdalen- College, Cambridge. 
 
 Malone. 
 491. For the letter that begins them all, H.'\ This is 
 a poor jest, somewhat obscured, and not worth the 
 trouble of elucidation. 
 
 Margaret asks Beatrice for what she cries, hey ho ; 
 Beatrice answers, for an //, that is for an ache or pain. 
 
 Johnson, 
 Hey wood, among his Epigrams, published in i^^Gy 
 lias one on the letter H, 
 
 *'* H is worse among letters in tlie cross-row : 
 *< For if thou find him either in thine elbow, 
 *' In tliine arm, or leg, in any degree ; 
 <* In thine head, or teeth, or toe, or knee ; 
 ** Into what place soever H may pike him, 
 ** Wherever thou find ache thou shalt not like 
 liim." Steevens. 
 
 492, turn'd Turk ] i. e. taken captive by 
 
 love, and turned a renegado to his religion. 
 
 Warburton, 
 This interpretation is somewhat far-fetclied, yet, 
 perhaps, it is right. Johnson. 
 
 Hamlet uses tl'iC same expression, and talks of his 
 fortune's turning Turk. To turn Turk was a common 
 phrase for a change of condition or opinion. So, in 
 The Honest Whore, by Decker, 1616: 
 
 " If you turn Turk again," &c. Steevens. 
 
 513. some moral ] That is, some secret mean- 
 ing, like the moral of a fable, Johnson. 
 A A moral
 
 Acl III. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 5I 
 
 A vwral is the same as a morality ^ one of the earliest 
 kindsof our dramatick performances. So, in Greene's 
 Groatswortk of Wit y 1621 : " — It was I that penned 
 i]\Q Moral of Man's Wity the Dialogue of Dives ,'" &c. 
 *' The people make no estimation 
 " Of morals, teaching education." 
 A player, on this occasion, is tlie speaker, and these 
 performances were full of double meanings and con- 
 ceits. Again, in Decker's Gids Honidook, 1609 • 
 *' — bee it pastoral or comedy, moral or tragedy. — '* 
 
 St£ EVENS. 
 
 524. lie eats his meat without grudging: ] 
 
 I do not see how this is a proof of Benedick's change 
 of mind. It would aftordmore proof of amorousness 
 to say, he eats not his meat without grudging ; but it is 
 impossible to fix the meaning of proverbial expres- 
 sions : perhaps, to eat meat without grudging, was the 
 same as, to do as others do ; and the meaning is, he is 
 content to live by eating like other mortals, and will be 
 content, notwithstanding his boasts, like other mortals, to 
 have a wife. J OH N S O N . 
 
 547. honest as the skin h:tween his hrows.'\ This 
 
 is a proverbial expression. Steevens. 
 
 So, 'u\Ga)nmerGurton'sNt'dle, 1575: 
 
 *' I am as true, I would thou knew, as skin hc" 
 tzctem thy brows . " R E E D , 
 
 548. ■ / am as honest as any man living, that is an 
 
 eld man, and no hontster than L] There is much lui- 
 niour, and extreme good sense under the covering oi 
 this blundering expression. It is a sly insinuation, 
 
 that
 
 52 ANNOTATIONS UPON AB.I1I, 
 
 tliat length of years, and the being miicli hacknicd in 
 the ways of vieriy as Shakspere expresses it, take off the 
 gloss of virtue, and bring much defilement on tlie 
 manners. For, as a great wit says. Youth is the season 
 of virtue: corruptions grozu luitk years y and 1 believe the 
 oldest rogue in England is the greatest. W a R P. u r T O N . 
 
 Much of this is true, but I believe Shakspere did 
 
 not intend to bestow all this reflection on the speaker. 
 
 « Johnson. 
 
 55"^' palabrasy ] So, in the Taming the 
 
 Shrew y the Tinker says, pocas pallabrasy i. e. few 
 words. A scrap of Spanish, which might once have 
 been current among the vulgar. Steevens, 
 
 It occurs likewise in the Spanish Tragedy : 
 «< Pocas Palahrasy milde as the lambe." 
 
 Henley, 
 
 .570. It is a world to seel^^ i, e. it is wonderful to 
 see. So, in All for Money, an old morality, 1594 : 
 " It is a world to see how greedy they be of money." 
 The same phrase often occurs, with the same meaning, 
 in Holinshed. Steevens. 
 
 ^']\. wdly God's a good man ;] So, in the old 
 
 Morality, or Interlude of Lusty Juventus, 1561, and 
 again, in A mery Gate of Robin Hoode, bl, let. no date. 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 572. • — an two ?nen ride, &-C.] This is not out of 
 place, or without meaning. Dogberry, in his vanity 
 of superior parts, apologizing for his neighbour, ob- 
 r.'?i-ves, that of tzvo men on an horse j one must ride behind. 
 
 The
 
 Acl IV. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 53 
 
 The Jirst place of rank or understanding can belong 
 but to onCf and that happy one ought not to despise his 
 inferior. Johnson. 
 
 Shakspere might have caught this idea from the 
 common seal of the Knight's Templars ; tne device of 
 which was tzuo riding upon one horse. An engraving of 
 the seal is preserved at the end of Matt. Paris Hist. 
 Ang. 1640. Steevens. 
 
 ACT IV. 
 
 Line 22. 00 ME be of laughing^ ] This is a 
 
 quotation from the Accidence. Johnson. 
 
 41. — = luxurious bed .'I That is, lascivious. 
 
 Luxury is the confessor's term for unlawful pleasures 
 of the sex. Johnson. 
 
 So, in K. Lear : 
 
 *' To't luxui-jj pell mell, fori lack soldiers." 
 
 Steevens. 
 Again, in Li/e and Death of Edward II. p. 129. 
 ** Luxurious Queene this is thy foule desire." 
 
 Reed. 
 
 54- zvord too large ;] So he uses large jests 
 
 in this play, for licentious^ not restrained within dm 
 bounds. Johnson. 
 
 5^' 1 will wv'ite against its'] So, in Cym- 
 
 beline, Posthumus speaking of women, says, 
 
 «< rii
 
 51 ANNOTATIONS UPON Acl IF. 
 
 *^ I'll zurite against than^ 
 
 *' Detest them, curse them." Steevens. 
 
 Co. • chaste as the bud — ] Before the 
 
 air has tasted its sweetness. Johnson. 
 
 78. kindly pozvcr'\ That is, natural power. 
 
 Hindis nature. Johnson. 
 
 97. liberal villain,'] liberal here, as in many 
 
 places of these plays, means, frank beyond honesty or 
 decency. Free of tongue. Dr. Warburton imnecessa- 
 rily reads, illiberal. Johnson. 
 
 So, in the Fair Maid of Bristow, 1605 • 
 ** But Vallinger, most Wke a libei-al v'lUiun, 
 " Did give her scandalous ignoble terms." 
 Again, in The Captain, by Beaumont and Fletcher : 
 *' And give allowance to your libei-al jests 
 " Upon his person." Steevens. 
 
 Tills sense of the word liberal is not peculiar to 
 Shakspere. John Taylor, in his Suite concerning 
 Players, complains of tlie << many aspersions very 
 liberally, unmannerly, and ingratefully bestowed upon 
 him." Farmer. 
 
 10,5. What a Hero hadst thou been] I am 
 
 afraid here is intended a poor conceit upon the word 
 Hero. Johnson. 
 
 111. conjecture ] Conje6lure is here used 
 
 for suspicion. Malone. 
 
 114. Hath no man''s dagger here a point fur me ?] 
 *' A thousand daggers, all in honest hands ! 
 ** An^ have not I a friend to stick one here V 
 
 Venice Preserved, 
 Stei 
 
 ;evens. I 
 
 130. 1
 
 Aclir. MUCH ADO ADOUT NOTHING. 55 
 
 1 30. The story that is printed in her blood ?] That is, 
 the story which her blushes discover to be true. Joh^cson. 
 
 13.5. . Grieved /, / had but one ? 
 
 Chid I for that at frugal nature's frame ? 
 Oy one too much by thee ! ] Frame is con- 
 trivance, order, disposition of things. So, in the 
 Death of Robert Earl of Huntington^ 1603 : 
 
 *' And therefore seek to set each thing \n frame.''* 
 Again, in Holinshed's Qro/z/c/^f, p. ^y^. *' — tlicre 
 v.-as no man that studied to bring the imrtilie is> 
 fra::icr 
 
 Again, in Yidsii^i ^Verses on Montaigne: 
 
 " extrafts of men, 
 
 *' Though in a tvowhledi frame confusedly set." 
 Again, in Much Ado about Nothing : 
 
 <* Whose spirits toil m frame of villanies." 
 
 Steevens, 
 144. But mine, and mine llov'd^ and mine I praised f 
 
 And mine that I was proud on ; j Tlie 
 
 speaker utters his emotion abrubtly, But Tniney and 
 mine tliat / loSdi Sec. by an ellipsis frequent, per- 
 haps too frequent, both in verse and prOiC. 
 
 Johnson. 
 186. Friar. Lad^', what man is he you are accus'd 
 cf?~\ The friar had just before boasted his great skill 
 in fishing out the truth. And, indeed, lie appears 
 by this question to be no fool. He wiis by all the 
 while at the accusation, and heard no names mention- 
 ed. Why then should he ask her what man she was 
 accused of? But in this lay tlie sublilty of Jiis exami- 
 
 i-.atioa.
 
 ^6 ANNOTATIONS UPON AEl IV. 
 
 nation. For, had Hero been guilty, It was very pro- 
 bable that in that hurry and confusion of spirits into 
 which the terrible insult of her lover had thrown her, 
 she would never have observed that the man's name 
 was not mentioned ; and so, on this question, have 
 betrayed herself by naming the person she Avas 
 conscious of an affair witli. The friar observed this, 
 and so concluded, tliat were she guilty, sbe would 
 
 piobably fall into the trap he laid for her. 1 only 
 
 take notice of this, to shew how admirably well 
 Shakspere knew how to sustain his characlers. 
 
 WaRBUPvTON. 
 
 196. bent of honour ;] Bent is used by our 
 
 author for the utmost degree of any passion, or 
 mental quality. In this play before, Benedick says 
 of Beatrice, her ajjtEiion has its full bent. The expres- 
 sion is derived from archery ; the bow has its benty 
 wlicn it is drawn as far as it can be. Johnson, 
 
 213. Tour daughter here the princes left for dcad\\ 
 In former copies. 
 
 Your daughter here the princess left for dead r, 
 But how comes Hero to start up a princess here ? We 
 have no intimation of lier father being a prince ; and 
 this is the first and only time she is complimented uith 
 tiiis dignity. The remotion of a single letter, and of 
 the parenthesis, will bring her to her own rank, and 
 the place to its true meaning : 
 
 Tour daughter here the princes I ft for dead : 
 i. e. Don Pedro, prince of Arragon ; and his bastard 
 brotlicr, who is likewise called a prince. Thlobald. 
 
 216.
 
 Aa IF. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 57 
 
 iii6. ostentation-,'] Show, appearance. 
 
 Johnson. 
 
 231. 'WtrarA the value \ ] i.e. We 
 
 exa igerate ti.e value. The allusion is to rack-rents. 
 The same kind of thought occurs in Antony and Uco^ 
 patra : 
 
 *' What our contempts do often hurl from us, 
 *' We wish it ours ac,ain." Steeven9. 
 
 The following passnge in the Widow's Tears y by 
 Chapman, 1612, strengthens Mr, Steevens's interpre- 
 tation : 
 
 ** One joint of him I lost,.. .was much more worth 
 " Than the rack value of thy entire body." 
 
 Malonf. 
 2fi2. The smallest twine may leadmc.'\ This is one of 
 our author's observations upon life. Men over- 
 powered with distress, eagerly 1-sten to the first offers 
 (.>f relief, close with every scheme, and believe every 
 promise. He tliat has no longer any confidence in 
 himself, is glad to repose his trust in any other that 
 will imdertake to guide liim. Johnson. 
 
 ^^-j. Manent Benedick and Beatrice.'] The poet, in 
 my opinion, has shewn a great deal of address in this 
 s.ene. Beatrice liere eniiases her lover to revenge 
 the injury done her cousin Hero : and without tliis 
 very natural incident, considering the character of 
 Beatrice, and that the story of her passion for Bene- 
 dick was all a fable, she could never have been easily 
 or naturally broi'.ght to confess she loved him, not- 
 withstanding all the foregoing preparation. And yet, 
 F on
 
 58 ANNOTATIONS UPON A8 IF. 
 
 on this confession, in this very place, depended the 
 whole success of the plot upon her and Benedick. 
 For had she not owned her love here, tliey must have 
 soon found out the trick, and then the design of bring- 
 ing the4ii togetlier had been defeated ; and she would 
 never have owned a passion she had been only tricked 
 into, had not her desire of revenging her cousin's 
 wrong made her drop her capricious humour at once. 
 
 Warburton. 
 
 304. J aril gone, though I am here; ] i. e. I am 
 
 out of your mind already, though I remain here in 
 person before you. Steevens. 
 
 312. in the height a villain, — ] So in Hen. VIIL 
 
 *' He's traitor to the height.''' 
 
 Steevens, 
 
 326. c;?J counties I ] County was the an- 
 cient general term for a nobleman. See a note on the 
 County Paris in Romeo and Juliet. Steevens. 
 
 ;:''27. a goodly count-comfecl: ; ] i. e. a 
 
 specious nobleman made out of sugar. Steevens. 
 
 ;^;;i. and vicn are only turned into tongue, and 
 
 trim ones too ;] The construclion of the sentence is — 
 not only men but trim ones, are turned into tongue, 
 i, e. not only common but clever men, &c. Steevens. 
 
 348 Scene IL] The persons, throughout tliis scene, 
 liave been strangely confounded in the modern edi- 
 tions. The first error has been the introduction of a 
 Town-Clerky who is, indeed, mentioned in I'le stage- 
 dire6Hon, prefixed to this scene in the old editions 
 (Enter the ConstablcSy Borachio, and the Town-Ckrke in 
 
 gownes),
 
 Jcl IF. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. ^9 
 
 gozvnes), but no where else; nor is there a single 
 speech asciibed to him in those editions. The part, 
 vvhich he might reasonably have beenexpeiSted to take 
 upon this occasion, is performed by the Sexton ; who 
 assists at, or rather directs, the examinations ; sets 
 them down in writing, and reports them to Leonato. 
 It: is probable, therefore, I think, x\\7iX the Sexton hixs 
 been styled the Town-Clerk^ in the stage- dire 6lion 
 abt)ve mentioned, from his doing the duty of such an 
 officer. But the editors, having brought both Sexton 
 and Town- Clerk upon the stage, were unwilling, as it 
 seems, that the latter should be a mute personage ; 
 and therefore they have put into his mouth almost all 
 the absuxdities which the poet certainly intended for his 
 jgnorant constable. To rectify this confusion, little 
 more is necessary than to go back to the old editions, 
 remembering that the names oi Kempe and Cozxjleyy two 
 celebrated actors of the time, are put in this scene 
 for the names of the persons represented j viz. 
 Kempe for Do^kcrry^ and Cowley for Verges. 
 
 Tyrwhitt. 
 
 I have followed Mr. T}T\vliitt's regulation, v,hichis 
 undoubtedly just; but have left iVIr. Theobald's notes 
 as I found them. St ee yens. 
 
 365. Both. 21.7, 5z>, wc hope. 
 
 To. CI. Write down — that they hope they serve God: — 
 and write God first ; for God defend but God should go be- 
 fore such villains ! ] This short passage, whicii is 
 
 truly humorous and in character, I have added from 
 
 the old quarto. Besides, it supplies a dei'eit: for 
 
 Fij v.ith.
 
 6o ANNOTATIONS UPON Jd IF. 
 
 without it, the Town-Clerk asks a question of tlic 
 prisoners, and goes on without staying for any answer 
 to it. Theobald. 
 
 The omission of this passage, since the edition of 
 1600, may be accounted for from the stat. 3 Jac. I. 
 c. 21. the sacred name being jestingly used four times 
 in one line. Blackstone. 
 
 378. 'Fore Gody they art both in a talt; :'\ This is afi 
 admirable stroke of humour : Dogberry says of the 
 prisoners that they are false knaves, and from that 
 denial of the charge, which one in his wits could not 
 be supposed to make, he infers a communion of coun- 
 sels, and records it in the examination as an evidence 
 of their euilt. Sir J. Hawkins. 
 
 If the learned annotator will amend his comment 
 by omitting the word guilty and inserting the word in~ 
 nocnicyy it will (except as to the supposed inference 
 of a communication of counsels, which should like- 
 wise be omitted or correfted) be a just and pertinent 
 remark. Remarks. 
 
 384. To. CI. Yea^ marry, thafs the easiest way: 
 •—Let the watch come forth :~\ This easiest, is a sophisti- 
 cation of our modern edirors, who were at a loss t» 
 make out the corrupted reading of the old copies. 
 The quarto in i6co, and the first and second editions 
 in folio, all concur in reading ; Yea, marry, thaththt 
 eftest way. Sec. A letter happened to slip out at press 
 in the first edition ; and 'twas too hard a task for the 
 subsequent editors to put it in, or guess at the word 
 imder this accidental depi-avation. There is no doubt 
 
 but
 
 Acl V. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 6l 
 
 but the author wrote, as I have restor'd the text j 
 Tsay marryj that's the deftest zuay, ScQ. i. e, the 
 readiest, most commodious -wdy. Theobald. 
 
 Mr. Tlieobaid might have recollected the word 
 dc/tiy m Macbeth : 
 
 • • '• Thyself and office deftly show." 
 Shakspere, I suppose, design" d Dogberry to corrupt 
 this word as well as many others. S fee yens. 
 
 ACT V, 
 
 Line 16. 1 F such a one will smile and stroke his beard ^ 
 
 I n sorrow wag ! cry hem, when he should groan ; j 
 ^;?^and iny hastily or indistinctly pronounced, might 
 easily have been confounded, supposing (wliat there 
 is great reason to believe) that these plays were copied 
 for the press by the ear. 
 
 By this reading a clear sense is given, and the latter 
 part of the line is a paraphrase on the former. 
 
 To cry hem v.as, as appears from the passage cited by 
 Mr. Tyrwhitt, a mark of festivity. So also from 
 Love'' s Cruelty, a tragedy by Shirley, 1640: 
 
 *' Cannot lie Lugh and hem and kiss his bride, 
 *' But he must send me word :" 
 Agr^in, in The Second Part of Henry IV. 
 
 '* We have heard the bells chime at midniglit . 
 
 Tiiat we have, that we have;— our watch-word was, 
 hem J bo\s." 
 
 F i i i On
 
 62 ANNOTATIONS UPON ASi F, 
 
 On the other hand, lo cry woe, was used to denote 
 grief. 
 Thus, In the IVinter^s Tale : 
 
 " but the last, O Lords, 
 
 *' When I have srdd, cry woe.'" 
 
 With respeft to the word wagj the using it as a 
 verb, in the sense of to play the wag, is entirely in 
 Shakspere's manner. There is scarcely one of his 
 plays in which we do not find substantives used as 
 
 verbs. Thus we meet to testimony, to boy, to 
 
 couch, to grave, to beach, to voice, to paper, to 
 page, to dram, to stage, to fever, to fool, to palate, 
 to mountebank, to god, to virgin, to passion, to 
 monster, to history, to fable, to wall, to period, to 
 spaniel, to stranger, &c. &c. Malone. 
 
 I think our author vvould hardly have used wagy a 
 verb in the sense reccnimended, lest his present sen- 
 timent should have been liable to misappreiiension, he 
 having employed the same verb, v/ith its common 
 signification, in many other places. Ste evens, 
 
 Here is a manifest corruption. The tenour of the 
 context is undoubtedly this : " If u man in such 
 melancholy circumstances will smile, stroke his beard 
 with great complacency, and ia the very depth of af- 
 fliclion cheerfully cry han when he should groan,'' 
 kz. I, therefore, with the least departure from tlie 
 old copies, and in entire conformity to the acknow- 
 ledged and obvious sense of the passage, venture to 
 conecl thus i 
 
 If
 
 ASI v. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 63 
 
 If such a one -will smile and stroke his beard, 
 And sorrowi^ig cry hem, when he should groan. 
 Scrrowingy to say no more, was a participle extremely 
 common in our author's age. Rowe's emendation of 
 this place is equally without meaning and witliout au- 
 thority. Sorrowing was here, perhaps, originally 
 written Sorrowinge^ according to the eld manner of 
 spelling ; which brings the correction I have pro- 
 posed still nearer to the letters of the text in early 
 editions. Warton. 
 
 To cry, care away! was once an expression of 
 triumph. So, in AcolastuSy a comedy, 1329 : "I 
 rnay nowe say. Care away e I'* Again, ibid. " Nowe 
 grievous sorrows and care away!^^ 
 
 Sorrow wagge I may be such another phrase of ex- 
 ultution. 
 
 What will be said of the conceit I shall now offer, 
 I know not ; let it, liowever, take its chance. We 
 might read. 
 
 If such a one will smile, and stroke his beard, 
 Ar.d, sorry wag ! cry hem 1 when he should 
 groan. — 
 \. e vnfctiliyig humourist I to cmplcy a note of festivity ^ 
 cjhen his sighs ought to express concern. Both the words 
 1 would introduce, are used by Shakspere. Falstaff" 
 falls the prince, sweet wag ! and the epithet sorry is 
 applied, even at this time, to denote any moderate de- 
 viation from propriety or morality ; as, for instance, 
 3 sorry fellow. Othello speaks of a sait and sorry 
 rheum. The prince, in the Fust Part of K. Henry II^. 
 
 act
 
 64 ANNOTATIONS UPON AEl V, 
 
 aclii. sc. 4. says " — they cry^ han I and bid you 
 play it off." This sufficiently proves the exclamation 
 to have been of a comick turn. Steevents. 
 
 That all the conjectures on this difficult passage may 
 be colletted together, Mr. Reed adds that of the 
 author of The Remarks, who proposes to read : 
 
 And, sorrow zuaggeryy hem, when he should 
 groan. 
 2. e. sorrow becoming waggery; or, converting sor- 
 row into waggery, hem. To this he subjoins : ** I 
 believe this will be at least as unsatisfactory as any of 
 the preceding, and I confess that none of them bring 
 conviftion to my mind. Against such as depend on 
 an alteration of the text, I acknowledge myself pre- 
 judiced, being convinced, from a review of the con- 
 je6lures of former criticks, on passages once as little 
 understood as the present, but now clearly established, 
 without varying from the old copies, that innovations 
 are seldom necessary. An explanation, I think, is 
 only wanted, and the following is offered with much 
 diffidence. I would read : 
 
 And sorrow wag', cry hem! when he should 
 groan, 
 2. e. sorrow v^ag {dismiss, shake c^), cry hem! {use a 
 note of festivity) when he should groan. The diffi- 
 culty seems to be only in the word wag, which may, 
 without much violence, be presumed to be used in the 
 sense I have affixed to it, by a writer of such licence 
 as our author. That it had not a ludicrous meaning 
 formerly, maybe proved from its frequent occurrence
 
 A5 V, MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 65 
 
 in the translation of the scriptures. See particularly 
 St. Matthew, ch. xxvii. ver. 39. and other places 
 might be pointed out. I take this opportunity to ob- 
 serve, that the various and discordant opinions about 
 th'.s passage, should teach both the present and future 
 race of commentators, to be less dogmatical than we 
 frequently find them on a subje>5t wherein there is so 
 little certainty as that of conjectural criticism." 
 
 I believe notliing more is requisite to the recovery 
 of the right reading, than a corredion of the old 
 pun6hiation ; 
 
 And, sorrow zvagge ! cr>' ; — hem, when he should 
 groan; — Henley, 
 
 1 8. make misfortune drunk 
 
 With candle -wasters ;] This may mean, either 
 wash away his sorrow among tliose who sit up all 
 night to drinkj and in that sense maybe styled wasters 
 of candlss ; or overpower his misfortunes by swallow- 
 ing fiap-dragons in his glass, which are described by 
 Falstaif as made oi candies' ends. Steevens. 
 
 This is a very difficult passage, and hath not, I 
 til ink, been satisfactorily cleared up. The explana- 
 tion I shall offer will give, I believe, as little satis- 
 faction ; but I will, however, venture it. Candle- 
 wasters is a term of contempt for scholars : thus Jon- 
 son, in Cynthia's Revels, a6t iii. sc. 2. '* spoiled by a 
 whoreson book- worm, a candle-waster.''^ In the Ayi^ 
 tiquarvy a6l iii. is a like term of ridicule : ** He should 
 more catch your delicate court-ear, than ail your 
 fccdd-scratchers, thumb-bitcrs, lamp-wasters of them 
 
 all."
 
 GG ANNOTATIONS UPON Acl V. 
 
 all/' Tlie sense then, v/hich I would assign to Shak- 
 spere, is this: " If such a one will patch grief with 
 proverbs — case or cover the wounds of his grief with 
 proverbial sayings — make misfortune drunk with 
 candle-zoasters — stupify misfortune, or render himself 
 insensible to the strokes of it, by the conversation or 
 lucubrations of scholars ; the produtlion of tiie lamp, 
 but not fitted to human nature. Patchy in the sense 
 of mending a defecl: or breach, occurs in Hamlet, a6t v. 
 scene i. 
 
 " O, that that earth, which kept the world in 
 awe, 
 
 ** Should patchy, wall, to expel the winter's flaw." 
 
 Wh ALLEY. 
 
 33. than advertisement.'] That is, than admcrd- 
 
 tion^ tha.n 7noral instru^lion. Johnson. 
 
 38. However they have writ the style of gods,] Sa- 
 piens ilte cum Diis ex pare vivit. Senec. Ep. 59. 
 Jupiter quo antecedit viriim bonum ? diutius bonus est. 
 Sapiens nihilo se minoris astimat. — Deus non vincit sa- 
 ^itt\\.Qm felicitate. Ep. 73. Wahburton- 
 
 By the style of gods ^ is meant an exalted language ; 
 such as we may suppose would be written by beings 
 superior to human calamities, and therefore regarding 
 them with negle61: and coldness. 
 
 Beaumont and Fletcher have the same expression in 
 the first of tJieir Four Plays in One : 
 
 " Athens doth make women philosophers, 
 ** And sure their children chat the talk of gods. '^ 
 
 Steevens. 
 39-
 
 AS} V. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. Gj 
 
 39. And made a pisk at chance and sufferance.] 
 Alludes to tlie famous apathy of the stoles. 
 
 Warburton. 
 
 The old copies read push. Mr, Pope, I believe 
 
 made the change. Ma lone. 
 
 85. Canst thou so dafte mc ? =.] To dafe and 
 
 drjfe ai-e synonymous terms, tliat mean, to pitt off : 
 A\ hich is the very sense required here, and what Leo- 
 nato would reply upon Claudio's saying, he would 
 have nothing to do with him. Theobald. 
 
 Theobald has well interpreted the word. Shak- 
 spere uses it more tlian once : 
 
 " The nimble footed mad-cap prince of Wales, 
 *' And his comrades that dajf^d tlie world aside." 
 Again, *' — I would have dnjf'doihtv respects," kc. 
 Again, in the Lover'' s Complaint: 
 
 *' There my white stole of chastity I dcff'd.'' 
 It is perhaps of Scottish origin, as I find it in Ane 
 verie excellent and deleBabill Treatise intitulitFtilLOTUs, 
 &c. Edinburgh, 1603: 
 
 *' Their daffing does us so undo." St e evens. 
 87. Ant. He shall kill two of usj Sec.'] T\\\s brother 
 Anthony is the truest picture imaginable of human 
 nature. He had assumed the character of a sage to 
 comfort his brother, o'erwheJmed with grief for his 
 only daughter's affront and dishonour ; and had 
 severely reproved him for not commanding his passion 
 better on so trying an occasion. Yet, inimediately after 
 this, no sooner dees he begin to suspecl that his ags 
 and valcur are sligiitcd, but he falls into th.e most 
 
 intemperate
 
 GS ANNOTATIONS UPON AB V^ 
 
 intemperate nt of rage himself: and all he can door 
 say is not of power to pacify him. This is copying 
 nature with a penetration and exa^ness of judgment 
 peculiar to Shakspere. As to the expression, too, of 
 his passion, nothing can be more highly painted. 
 
 Warburton, 
 
 102. Scambling^ — ] i.e. scrambling. The word is 
 more than once used by Shakspere. See Dr. Percy's 
 note on the first speech of the play of A'. Henry V^ 
 and likewise the Scots proverb, " It is well kcn'd 
 your father's son was never a scarnbler .''^ A scamhlcr^ 
 in its literal sense, is one who goes about among his 
 friends to get a dinner ; by the Irish caiTd a coshereu 
 
 Steeven's, 
 
 111. zi^e zoill 7iot wdkz yonr patience. 1 This 
 
 conveys a sentiment that the speaker would by ^n® 
 means have im.plied. That the patience of the tw^ 
 old men was not exerc!:ised, but asleep, which up- 
 braids them for insensibility under tlieir wrong. Shak- 
 spere must have wTote, 
 
 ~ ■ zue zmll not wrack — — 
 
 i.i. destroy your patience by tantalizing you. 
 
 War BURTON, 
 
 This emendation is very specious, and perhaps is 
 riglit ; yet the present reading may admit a congruous 
 n:!eaning with less difficulty than many other of Shak- ' 
 spere's expressions, ; 
 
 1 he old men have been both very angry and oufra- j 
 geous ; the prince teils them tliat he and Chuidio vuli « 
 not v^ake their patience j will not any longer -oixc tlieni 
 
 to I
 
 Acl V, MUCH ABO ABOUT NOTHING, 69 
 
 to indure the presence of those whom, though they 
 look on them as enemies, they cannot resist. 
 
 Johnson. 
 
 Wake^ I believe, is the original word. The fero- 
 city of wild beasts is overcome by not suffering them 
 to sleep. We will not wake your patience^ therefore 
 means, we will forbear any further provocation. 
 
 Henley. 
 
 1,51. Nay^ then give him another staffs &c.] An al- 
 lusion to tilting. See note, As You Like It, act iii, 
 sc. 4. Warburton. 
 
 '^55' to turn his girdle.'] We have a proverbial 
 
 speech, IJ' he be angry, let him turn the buckle of his 
 girdle. But I do not know its original or meaning. 
 
 Johnson. 
 
 A corresponding expression is used to this day in 
 Ireland — If he be angry, let him tie up his brogues. 
 Neither proverb, I believe, has any other meaning 
 than tins : If he is in a bad hum.our, let him employ 
 himself till he is in a better. 
 
 Dr. Farmer furnishes me with an instance of this 
 proverbial expression as used by Claudio, from Win- 
 %vood's Memorials, fol. edit. 1725, Vol. 1. p. 453. 
 See letter from Winwood to Cccyll, from Paris, 1602, 
 about an affront he received there from an English- 
 man : *' I said what I spake was not to m.ake him 
 angry. He replied, if I were angry, / might turn the 
 buckle of 7ny girdle behind me." So likewise Cowley, 
 On the Govcrn?nent of Oliver Cromwell : *' — The next 
 month he swears by the living God, that he will tuj\a 
 theui out of doors, and he does 30 in his princely way 
 G of
 
 70 ANNOTATIONS UPON AB V* 
 
 of tl-weatenlng, bidding them, " turne the buckles of 
 their girdles behind them." St£EVENS» 
 
 A writer in the Gentleman'' s Mag. 1783, says, large 
 belts were worn with the buckle before, but in 
 wrestling the buckle was turned behind, to give the 
 adversary a fair grasp at the belt; therefore turning 
 the buckle behind was a challenge. Reed. 
 
 167. bid — ] i. e. asked. Thus in Titus An-' 
 
 dronicusy a.6\ i. sc. 2. 
 
 " I am not bid to wait upon this bride." 
 
 And in the A'ezv Testament : 
 
 *' — they that were bidden were not worthy." 
 
 * * * 
 
 169. Shall I not fnd a woodcock too P] A wood- 
 cock was a proverbial term for a foolish fellow. So 
 in the Lofidon Prodigal^ a comedy, 1G05 • ** Woodcock 
 o' my side ! " The same words also occur in Law Tricksy 
 a comedy, by John Day, 1608. Malone. 
 
 177. a zuise gentleman \\ This jest depending 
 
 on the colloquial use of words is now obscure; per- 
 haps we should read, a raise gentleman^ or a man. wise 
 enough to be a coward. Perhaps wise gentleman was in 
 tliat age used ironically, and always stood for silly 
 fellow. Johnson. 
 
 210. What a pretty thing man is.) when he goes in his 
 doublet and hose, and leaves off his wit /J It was esteemed 
 a mark of levity and want of becoming gravity, at 
 that time, to go in the doublet and hose, ajid leave off the 
 cloak, to which this well-turned expression alludes, 
 Ihe thought is, that love makes a man as ridiculous, 
 3 and
 
 zA'l V. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. yt 
 
 and exposes him as naked, as being in tlie doublet and 
 hose without a cloak. Warburton. 
 
 214. Buty soft youy let be J ] The first folio 
 
 rfeads : 
 
 But soft you; let wze be ; pluck, &c. 
 The second folio reads : 
 
 But soft you let me see ; pluck up, &c. 
 which is, I believe, the true reading. Malone.- 
 
 Let be J is the true reading. It means, let things re- 
 main as they are. I have heard the phrase used by 
 Dr. Johnson himself. Steevens. 
 
 The same expression occurs in Matt, xxvii. 49. 
 
 HENLEVt 
 
 So, in Henry VIII. act i. sc. 1 . 
 
 Again, Winter's Tale, a6l v. sc. 3. Reed. 
 
 235. one meaning well suited.'] That is, one 
 
 meaning is put into many different dresses j the prince 
 having asked the same question in four modes of 
 speech. Johnson. 
 
 301. And she alone is heir to both ofus)'\ Shakspere 
 seems to have forgot what he had made Leonato say, 
 in the fifth scene of the first act to Antonio, How now, 
 brother 'j where is my cousin ycur son ? hath he provided 
 themusick? Anonymous. 
 
 311. Who J I believcy was pack'd in all this wrong,"] 
 i. e. combined ; an accomplice. So, in lord Bacon's 
 Works, Vol. iv. p. 269. edit. 1740. *' If the issue 
 shall be this, tliat whatever shall be done for him, 
 shall be thought to be done by a number of persons 
 
 that shall be laboured and packed ." Malone. 
 
 G ij So,
 
 72 ANNOTATIONS UPON A61 V^ 
 
 So, in King Lear : 
 
 ** — snuffs and packings of the dukes." 
 
 Steevens^ 
 355. To have no man come over me ? why, shall I aU 
 ways keep below stairs ?'\ So, in Marston's Insatiate 
 Countessy 1603: 
 
 " Alas ! when we are once o'th fldiing hand, 
 
 "A man may easily come over us/* Collins* 
 
 363. /give thee the bucklers.'] I suppose that to give 
 
 the bucklers is, to yield, or to lay by all thoughts of de-, 
 
 fence, so clypeum abjicere. The rest deserves no com» 
 
 ment. Johnson. 
 
 Greene, in his Second Part oi Coney Catching, 1592, 
 
 uses the same expression : — " At this his master 
 
 laught, and was glad, for further advantage, to yield 
 
 the bucklers to his premise." 
 
 Again, in A Woman never Fex'd, a comedy by Row- 
 ley, 1632 : 
 
 *' into whose hands she thrusts the weapons first, 
 
 let him take up the bucklers.'''' 
 
 Again, in Decker's Satiromastix : 
 
 " Charge one of them to take up the bucklers 
 ** Against that hair-monger Horace." 
 Again, in Chapman's May-Day, 1611: 
 
 ** And now I lay the bucklers at your feet." 
 Again, in Every Woman in her Humour, 1609 • 
 
 ** — if you lay down the bucklers, you lose the 
 vi6lory.'* 
 Again, in P. Holland's translation of Pliny's Nat. 
 Hist. B. X. c, 21. " — it goeth against his stomach 
 
 (the
 
 ASl F, MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING. 73 
 
 (the cock's) to yceld the gantlet and give the bucklers,''' 
 
 Steeven.s. 
 
 422. in the time of good neighbours ;J i. e» 
 
 When men were not envious, but every one gave 
 another his due. The reply is extremely humorous. 
 
 Warburton. 
 427. Question? — IVhy^ an hour, &c.] i. e. What a 
 question's there, or what a foolish question do you 
 ask? Warburtox, 
 The phrase occurs frequently in Shakspere, and 
 means no more than— jow ask a question^ or that is the. 
 question. Remarks. 
 4,51. Done to death ] This obsolete phrase oc- 
 curs frequently in our ancient writers. Thus, ia 
 
 Mdirlow's Lust's Dominions, 1657: 
 
 <* His mother's hand shall stop thy breath, 
 *' Thinking her own son is done to death.'' 
 
 Ma LONE. 
 
 461. 772ose that slew thy virgin knight {\ Knight, ia 
 its original signification, rnQzus Joilower or pupii, a.nd 
 in this sense may be feminine- Helena, in Mi's Well 
 that Ends Wtllf uses knight in the same signification. 
 
 Johnson. 
 
 Virgin knight is virgin hero. In the times of chi- 
 valry, a virgin knight was one who had as yet 
 achieved no adventure. Hero had as yet achieved no 
 matrimonial one. It may be added, th^t a virgin 
 knight wore no device on his shield, having no right 
 to any till he had deserved it. 
 
 SOy
 
 74 ANNOTATIONS tJPON A61 K 
 
 So, in the History of ClyomoUy Knight of the Golden 
 Shieldy &c. 1599: 
 
 ** Then as thou seem' st in thy attire a virgin knight 
 
 to be, 
 *< Take thou this shield likewise of white" Sec, 
 It appears, however, from several passages in Spen- 
 ser's Faery Queen, B.I. c. 7. that an ideal order of this 
 name was supposed, as a compliment to queen Eliza- 
 beth's virginity : 
 
 ** Of doughtie knights whom faery land did raise 
 ** That noble order hight of maidenhead.''* 
 Again, B. II. c. 2. 
 
 " Order of maidenhead the most renownM." 
 Again, B. II. c. 9. 
 
 ** Andnumbredbe mongst knights of maidenhead.** 
 On the books of the Stationers-Company, in the year 
 
 1594, is entered, ** Pheander the may den knight.^* 
 
 Steevens. 
 
 608, 710 staff more reverend than one tipt with 
 
 horn.] This passage may admit of some explanation 
 that I am unable to furnish. By accident I lost seve- 
 ral instances I had coUedted for the purpose of throw- 
 ing light on it. The following, however, may assist 
 the future commentator. 
 MS. Sloan, 1691, 
 " That a fellon may wage battaile, with th' order 
 thereof." 
 
 " by order of the lawe both the parties must at 
 
 theire own charge be armed withoute any yron or long 
 armoure, and theire heades bare and bare-headed and 
 
 bare-
 
 A3 V, MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING, 75 
 
 bare-footed, every one of them having a baston ^orwc-:^ 
 at ech ende of one length," &c. Steevens. 
 
 So, in Britton, Pl&as cf the Crown, c. xxii. s. 18. — 
 " Next let thenn go to combat armed without iron and 
 without linen armour, their heads uncovered and 
 their hands naked and on foot, with two bastons tipped 
 with horn of equal length, and each of them a target 
 of four corners, without any other armour, whereby 
 any of them may annoy the other j and if either of 
 them have any other weapon concealed about him, and 
 therewith annoy his adversary, let it be done as shall 
 be mentioned amongst combats in a plea of land.'* 
 
 Reed, 
 
 THE END.
 
 This book is DUE on the last 
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